America 2028

Chapter One

"In this last waking morning I ask you, for the sake of my being, to be purely blunt. I do not want to wait around and waste some of the few minutes I have on intricate vocabulary and extensive detail. I do not need fancy explanations and step by step recollections; all I want is to hear you out precisely without a breath of unnecessary exertion.

Simply tell me what you've come to say and I will answer you with the same efficiency that you have shown. My time is dwindling, so please speak fast and make haste; I can feel a wretched cold, for it lingers anxiously beside me," choked Ron in stammered spurts of breath from his ottoman.

"Grandpa, I've taken many risks to come here today. I've been discrete in my travels just like you've always ordered and I'm almost certain no patrolmen have discovered me. I had to come; I needed to see you one last time. It breaks my heart that you aren't well.

But I must get to the point of this meeting. Soon you will no longer be here, and I need to know what actually happened to my parents," asked Jeremy, tears driving against his eyelid dams.

"There are a few things you need to know Jeremy. You have reached an age capable of understanding what it is I have been working on for the latter part of my life. I'm afraid I must begin with your parents, and the accident. Fifteen years ago, one year after they had sent you to live with your aunt Ellen, your parents had been investigating a rumor of corruption in the political system that if yielded true, would have changed the fate of our nation drastically.

They had thought that there were too many disappearances over the last ten years of major political figures and corporation leaders, and that it made no sense for all of these 'coincidences' to have never been reported to the public. There were no explanations, no obituaries, no graves.

As avid journalists they were intent on following this story no matter what they had to do. Mind that this was back when newspapers were allowed to be produced and the public had semi-insight into the happenings of the government. Then, after word had spread of their intentions, what seemed like random things started to change..." explained Ron as his voice trailed into an incoherent pitch.

"How do you mean, change?" asked Jeremy with a trembling voice.

"I'm not sure exactly; you're father was never one to confide in me much, and certainly not one to say anything that might trouble me in my old age. From what I could gather it seemed as if they both became very paranoid. They acted as if they were constantly under surveillance and they had to watch what they said, who they saw, where they were seen traveling.

They rarely talked to me in their last few months and I became very worried. Then one day I stumbled across your father at the supermarket and I was catapulted by shock. His face was sunken and his eyes were so distant; he had lost at least twenty pounds. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days and he was grumbling to himself as I approached. I called his name and he acted as if I hadn't even spoken. He then proceeded past me to the checkout as I repeatedly yelled after him. That was the last time I saw your father.

It wasn't until two weeks later that I noticed in the Obituaries a Rebecca and Paul Guthert whose life descriptions mimicked your parents own lives. I was confused, at first I thought it a coincidence, but then I realized it must have been a mistake. Paul and Rebecca's last names were Broderston like mine.

I called the paper, angry that they would have messed up their own employees' final memoriam. They told me in the nastiest tone that there was no mistake - it was just a mere concurrence. I accepted this, but as the years passed, with no word from either of your parents, I began to question the authenticity of that statement.

The stories were just too similar and I realized then that Rebecca and Paul Guthert were undoubtedly your parents. I knew in that instant that the obituary's automobile caused death was complete bullshit. There was no way that was how they actually died. Why would they cover up their identities if something so simple had occurred?

From that moment on I have dedicated my time to two things: surviving, aka staying below the government's radar and uncovering the truth. I think I've come very close to that by this point, but I cannot explain it to you at this time. I am very ill as you have mentioned, and I just want you to know that I love you and I will always look after you.

Over there on that table I have a stack of papers for you. A collection of journal entries and essays I've written throughout my late life that I feel will reveal to you everything you need to understand the truth. There is an address written of someone I'd like for you to meet with within the next week.

Now go, and show these documents to no one and if you have to, burn them after reading. If you were caught with them, I don't even want to think of what they might do to you. Leave now and be careful as you venture home; remain as discrete as possible. Use an alias if you get stopped. Goodbye and greatest luck with what you uncover," Ron wished his grandson a final goodbye.

"I love you too," cried Jeremy, unashamed by the tears streaming down his cheeks.

With that Jeremy left the ramshackle bi-level house with an aching heart that was soon joined by an overwhelming sense of trepidation. What could possibly be uncovered in his grandfather's essays? What secret was so massive that only a select few individuals were actually aware of it? And most of all, why had his grandfather picked him to continue his legacy?

Chapter 2

After thirty miles of hiking, buses and the subway, Jeremy finally reached his new age apartment complex. Ascending the stairs he arrived at a towering titanium doorway guarded by William, his friend from Ridgemont High.

"Hey Will, how are you tonight?" Jeremy casually asked.

"I'm good, just the same old shit standing here for hours on end," Will responded.

"Yeah it must be real tough being a watchman freezing your nuts off all night," Jeremy joked.

"Hey, not as tough as changing diapers! And at least you still have your nuts. You must've forgot, I haven't gotten mine back from Celia since the day we said 'I do'," chimed Jeremy.

They both laughed, amused with each other's company. Just as he was stepping through the door, Will began to eye his bag. Jeremy's body almost collapsed; his organs stopped functioning for an instant.

"So what do you got there in the bag? You know its procedure I ask," commented Will.

"Oh, just some paperwork from the office. You know, and a few bills I've been reviewing," lied Jeremy, fear seizing him. How would Will believe him if he barely believed the words that had just leapt from his mouth. "Need to take a look?" he asked, almost shaking.

"Oh come on Jeremy, like I'd waste my time checking your shit. All I have to do is ask, it's not in the fine print that I actually have to search, though they seem to imply it pretty strongly. Get on inside you goof, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, hah I'll see you then." Jeremy entered his building relieved and finally breathing at a normal rate. That had been as close as he ever wanted to come to being discovered. Yet, he thought as he entered the elevator and hit the 6th floor button, I'm being ridiculous; I don't even know what those papers say and I'm already freaking out. They could be random love letters to my grandma and I'm acting as if they're stolen Top Secret documents.

At last the elevator came to a halt and released him into the familiar hallway outside his apartment. He proceeded towards door 624 and unlocked it slowly, slightly hesitant that someone might be waiting to arrest him inside. Get over yourself, he thought, and forcefully opened the door content in discovering that everything was as he had left it.

"I guess I'm going to have to get this over with eventually. Might as well be sooner than later," he spoke as he slumped onto his plush couch and tossed his bag beside him. He lifted out the stack of papers and scattered them across the oak coffee table. Where to begin he wondered. One of the less aged documents stood out to him and he instinctively grabbed it and began to read:

"It's an hour since dawn and there's a chill in the air. The year is 2028 and only silence remains throughout this small, suburban town. The wind creeps over slanted rooftops and jetting chimneys with an eerie fondness. What were at a time busy streets stand still as the empty silence echoes down their curved paths.

Houses that were once considered homes lay rotting in small clusters, left abandoned to decay. Buildings with no purpose, lights that will never be used. Scattered in garbage piles and hidden in this mess live the town's only inhabitants. Rejects of the modern world, maggots and beetles that thrive from this waste; feeding off what once was and will never be again.

How could this town, Sayerville, that had stood for so many years past become this useless, this forgotten? It seems so recent that people were bustling about and nature was booming in terracotta.

It's hard to believe that it has come to this. It's harder to accept that there's no going back to how things were. Just a few short years have changed so much of our world. Whoever knew America would give in to this new era fascism.

Things weren't always this way though. Many a person had worked endless hours building this place from the ground up. Happiness wasn't uncommon and family was actually a priority. None of this industrialistic greed was around to poison the heart of man.

All these so called people can think about now is work, technology and promotion. The wealthier and more knowledgeable one is the safer they are. The time has arrived where man has turned against himself and compassion is a thing of the past.

It's amazing how ten miles outside this rundown Jersey town you'll find the fifth largest city on the east coast. Skyscrapers as they were once known cannot even begin to describe the buildings we occupy today. With a 100 stories considered short, and 500 of these massive lumps of metal in each major city, towns like Sayerville seem ridiculous to waste time on.

Anyone living in places like that are considered 'old school' and are always the first picked to go. And why shouldn't they be? In a living situation like that it's impossible to get anything accomplished, and if you're not producing enough you shouldn't be allowed to waste such precious space.

Its 2028, a mere three decades since the new millennium and the population has already doubled to twelve billion. With a depleting water and food supply along with global warming, it's practically impossible to support this much life. After much debate, this 'new era fascism' as I referred to it has come up with what is really a simple solution: if you don't give back enough to this world that has supported you with the gift of life, you haven't earned your stay.

Basically, the weak, the elderly, the lazy, the challenged and the misfortunate are slowly being killed off as a result of this new governmental tactic to bring the world back to a comfortable state. They claim that it is in the interest of mankind, that it will trigger advancement and make us powerful. The Alma Heiner, our new government, tries so hard to progress but how can these improvements, such as longer life spans, be appreciated if we're being killed off before we're even sixty?

Poverty strikes the misfortunate ones usually just before they go. The only way to stand a chance is to do better than fifty-five percent of the people around you. It's really quite sad; a man can invent a new crayon color and his life will be prolonged, at least temporarily. When did life's objective change from passion and satisfaction to greed and destruction?

Driven by fear, all we are is the government's unknowing slaves working constantly towards some goal we'll never meet. We'll never be good enough; we'll never be exactly what they want and it's this imperfection that drives them mad.

They're constantly striving for their perfect prototype that's really unobtainable -a false reality. To them, all we are is an easily manipulated private workforce. We're at the point where we don't even know who we are anymore. We're not real people, only impressions of those who lived in a time long ago.

They abuse us and use us as if we were dispensable; if one breaks there are plenty more to choose from. Unsatisfied? Move on to better qualified people. What's worst of all is the fact that the civilians we are just stood by as the world mutated into this ruthless monster with no justice or reasoning.

We brought this upon ourselves, and now it's too late to do anything. We created this disaster and now we must deal with the torment of our own stupidity. They say it's for the best, that technological progress and environmental advancements are worth the lives some must sacrifice. But what happens when there's nobody left to indulge in all this good were creating? What will happen when everyone is dead and all that is left is them?

Maybe that's what they want; maybe that's what this is really about. Run the world like a concentration camp and once you have what you want from it get rid of everyone that is now useless. All that will be left is what they wanted and they'll finally have their perfect society, their own private luxury world, their precious utopia.

All the good we could have had, all the love we could have known, all the peace we could have made. All of that is gone now and the only ones smiling are the ones who began this fiasco, the ones who have been silently running the past two decades.

They got what they truly desired and what do we have? Nothing. Nothing to show for all the work we did. No memories of meaning from the lives we lived. That's all we are, all we ever have been and all we ever will be to them. Nothing.

Where did the love go; what happened to compassion? There's not a good thing left anymore, but in a world like ours there isn't much of anything left anyways. Those selfish leaders drove man to competition against himself where none was needed.

It shouldn't be this way and there are very few that can remember how things once were; how things are supposed to be. It's all one big lie, one big secret they think they can hide from us.

But some know. There are still some who can remember, some who understand. No matter how much you try to make them forget, no matter how much of the past you try to destroy, it will always be there and there are some who know that.

Those are the people in rotting houses only a story or two high struggling through life with no resources and no 'modern technology'. These are the people who know how beautiful life can be, how soft a birds chirp can sound, just how green Spring grass is and how aromatic budding flowers are.

None of this matters now, does it? We've destroyed any future we could have had. Give it a few more years like this and even those who know of the past will die away with their memories. The only people who could save us from ourselves are the ones no one will give a chance to speak up. The ones who won't be here ten years from now; the last of that special generation that holds within them the very key to life.

In the end, all that matters is that from the stupidity of what was considered the greatest species alive, the only one with the ability to feel emotion, to build and discover, came the very destruction of their population.

Man, so great in all his glory and intelligence was too ignorant to take notice of the end he was heading for. He set himself up and the fool he was went along with it blindly. Human beings, given so many luxuries, so many chances, would ironically be the ones to sit back and take this great gift they received for granted.

And that's why small towns like Sayerville are rotting away while the rest of the world collapses in on itself."

"Wait, what?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.