The year is 2021. The world is in an age of technological growth and achievement. Atomic bombs are brandished at each other's throats, with the promise of mutually assured destruction as a deterrent for all-out war. Humans dominate the land and live in relative peace. However, the constellations have been watching this planet for some time....
A sixteen-year-old boy is born into the Augustin family as the only child of two caring parents.
"Watch where you're going, asshole," he says as he knocks me aside with his shoulder. He is a head taller than me and probably twice as wide, though he boasts a slim waist and a chiseled jaw. An all-too-stereotypical jock with the blonde hair to match. Though I don't think he does football, as one might expect. Some might even say that he's subverting the bully trope with his revolutionary defiance of typical jock sports.
I smirk while imagining him as a political activist fighting for jock rights. He turns around and sees me smiling.
Oh no.
I curse inwardly for my foolhardy decisions and pray that I won't get waterboarded this time.
God, Buddha, Zeus, Odin, someone save me.
"Griffon!" I turn around at the sound of my name and see a gorgeous girl running towards me. Completely out of my league. "Can you help me with the homework Mrs. Chan gave in my math class?"
"Uh, yeah," I reply. I give a slight smile. "But Cynthia, you should probably do your own homework from time to time."
She doesn't hear me. She's too busy staring over my shoulder at the person behind me.
"Hey Bradley," she chirps, twirling a strand of hair in her finger. She grins widely. "See you at Trevor's place?"
I hear a voice behind me, presumably from Mr. Bradley the Jock. "I'll bring Samantha and all of them as well, okay?"
I tune out at this point and decide that I should get out of there, just in case Bradley's good mood chooses to leave him. They don't notice it when I go. Why should they, though? They belong to their own friend group, and I shouldn't intrude on their fun.
I walk past the school's linoleum floors and metal lockers, exiting through the two doors that represent a breath of fresh air from the stuffy school environment. It's the end of the school day, and my parents are probably still at work, though they will also be released soon. I slowly go back home, my shoulders aching from a long day of carrying my backpack. I don't live very far away, so I typically walk home as a way of stretching my legs.
The apartment building my family lives in is pretty extensive, and all sorts of people live there. From jazz musicians to retail workers to painters, it gets pretty rowdy sometimes. I crank open the door to the building and see an older man reclining on a chair.
"How you doing, Griffon?" he asks. I smile at him.
"Same as always, I guess."
"Found a girlfriend yet?" he enquires, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. I shake my head.
He puts his newspaper down and takes off his reading glasses. "Look here, young man, girls will always swoon for boys with those blue eyes of yours. Always. That's a fact I learned through experience." He winks at me, his black eyes glimmering with good humor.
"You almost sound jealous," I tease. He grunts.
"Man," he starts. "Don't even think for one second your dumbass can compete with my good looks." He strokes his chin and gives a toothy smile. I laugh. "I ain't playing with you, boy. In my day, I had three girlfriends at your age."
"Yeah, yeah," I reply. "The number always increases every time you tell me this, Charles."
He waves his hand in dismissal. "You caught me. Now go and do your homework with that genius brain of yours."
He opens up his newspaper, shakes it once for good measure, and goes back to reading it. I march up the stairs leading to my family's apartment and open the door using the key hidden under the doormat. It's a typical hiding spot, but I trust the people here enough that I don't expect them to go looking around for things to rob. I enter my home-sweet-home and take in the cozy atmosphere.
I set down my backpack and dig through the numerous notebooks to take out my laptop from the clutter of knicknacks strewn throughout the bag. I scroll through web novels and choose one that seems interesting out of the mass of possibilities presented before me. Truly, we live in a consumerist society. This is about the only time I get before I have to start studying, and I find equanimity in that little peace before the storm.
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About half an hour passes in silence, with only the ticking of a nearby clock to keep me company.
Bzzz!
The doorbell buzzes, and I get up from reading to get the door.
"Oh! It's okay, Griffon! I've got it," a woman's voice says as I hear a key being inserted into the door lock. She pushes open the heavy door and walks in with several bags of groceries strapped to her. I hurriedly assist her in carrying the thick bags, pulling one off her shoulder and setting it carefully on the floor.
"Be careful, mom," I say. "Something might spill if you keep testing your luck like this."
She's a tall woman with a fairly athletic build, but her hand-eye coordination often fails her, and she drops things all the time. The wrinkles on her face are indicative of her age, displaying with full force her fifty years of life. Like my father, she has light-blue eyes, something that runs in the family.
"I'm okay," she responds with a grin. "You worry about us too much, Griffon." I nod. A part of me wishes my parents had conceived me earlier, as I wouldn't have to worry as much about the fact that they're getting older.
"How's it going, Griff?" my father asks as he walks in. He whistles as he sees the bags lying on the floor. "You should've called me and said that you were in the grocery store. I would've given you a hand." He kisses my mother and places an arm across her shoulder. My father is a short and slender man, akin to more of a scholarly type than anything else.
"I'm good, dad," I reply.
He squints at me. "What's bothering you?"
I sigh. Does he have a sixth sense for things like this?
"I don't really want to talk about it," I say, and I'm speaking the truth. It's a bit hard to talk about problems with my parents sometimes.
"Alright," he says, but I know he won't let this go. It'll go into his mental database of "things to bring up at a better time."
I go through the rest of the night with a stiff feeling in my gut.
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School starts again the next day, and I venture into this domain of hell as an outcast, someone who is isolated from his peers due to a variety of reasons that are too varied to properly explain. One reason may be that I skipped two grades, so people think of me as more of a homework tool than anything else. Another reason may be that I distance myself from others as a mechanism that prevents me from being hurt, a sign of my insecurity. The biggest reason is probably that I'm targeted by Bradley, the worst bully in school. Does he do it for fun? Is he like me, lashing out due to his insecurities? Either way, I don't really care.
He's just someone I'll never see again after I graduate.
The day goes by quickly, with me going through the robotic motions that have kept me going for years. Evade Bradley and his gang, go to the classes, listen to the teacher, do the work they hand out. It's as boring as ever.
As I'm about to leave the school building, Cynthia comes up to me. She looks like she's pouting. "Hey Griffon, you ditched me yesterday."
"Didn't think you'd notice," I reply blankly.
"Don't make me out to be an asshole," she says, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, can you help me with today's homework at least?"
I sigh. Aren't there other nerds that she can be harassing?
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Bradley glowering at me.
"Come with me," he says, shoving me forward and walking behind me.
"Hey, I was talking to him!" Cynthia shouts.
Bradley ignores her and pushes me into a set of stairs. "Start walking, bitch." I clamber up the stairs, eager to please my kidnapper. As we go up the steps, I start breathing harder, as it is further accentuated how unfit I am compared to Bradley.
Once we get to the top, I notice that we're on the roof of the school building. Why are we over here? Is he going to beat me in a quiet place where no one's watching? His entourage of five men emerge, completely overgrown for their age. They look at me and start holding back their laughter. In a swift motion, they all grab me, four of them holding onto each limb and the fifth cradling my head. Bradley lets go, and they carry me to the edge of the school roof.
"Wait, wait," I start panicking, kicking and screaming for someone to help.
Of course, no one does.
"Stay away from Cynth," Bradley whispers into my ear. Cynthia? Is that what all this is about?
"I'm not going to—" I try to scream, but someone covers my face with his shirt. They're giggling wildly as I'm blindly floating in midair, their arms holding me up.
Then, someone lets go.
"Oh, shit!" someone says. "I thought we were joking, bro."
"My bad. Let's get the fuck out of here." He sounds panicked, I notice, as my eyes are allowed freedom, and I see the ground below me edge closer and closer to impact.
I crash.
The pain is like an inferno spreading throughout my body, waves of nausea suddenly overcoming me. Then, everything goes black. For a moment, it feels as if I'm racing down a sled in the wintertime, being sucked down by the force of gravity.
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I wake up and feel some sort of ointment being applied to the side of my body. My back is lying on some hard surface. Is this a hospital bed? Is it even a bed at all? It feels far too lacking in, well, comfort for any convalescent to lay here without getting restless. My half-closed eyelids spot a big man with a goatee watching over me. Is this a doctor? No, that's impossible. That clothing looks far too antiquated.
Where am I?
I jolt up in surprise at my new surroundings, finally taking in the foreign landscape. Some sort of tent is around me, and the fresh smell of greenery tells me I'm no longer in the city. The man in front of me is startled at his patient's sudden motion, but quickly calms down and whispers in a quiet voice to me.
"Are you okay, Shan'er?" he asks.
For some odd reason, I find myself able to understand the rest of that sentence, but the last part boggled my senses a little. What did he say?
Shonner?
"Um, could you repeat that?" I ask him, an oddly feminine voice escaping my lips.
He looks confused, but does as I requested. "Are you okay, Shan'er?"
Shan'er? Who?