2209

By
The year is 2209, in Seattle, Washington. Late Night. National Guard members walk through the street, killing anyone they see that do not have permission to be outside. Teens play this one game called "Sprint 'n Shoot", where the teens run from their house to a neighbors/other friends house during that time, trying not to be caught by the National Guard members. The game is a dangerous one, since if the teens were seen doing this, then the National Guard would be forced to kill the teens and their families. So to save their families, the teens have to do a brave thing-say that they were trying to rob the houses. The teen gets killed, the family gets told, and then everything is goes on.
Tonight, however, is an awful night for one National Guard member Jerry Baker. Once a member of Seattle, Jerry has seen many things happen. He's killed teenagers, from thirteen, all the way to seventeen. But tonight, Jerry sees a sixteen year old running across the street. Jerry doesn't want to get the kid, but he is being watched from every angle. Jerry drags over to the kid.
"Kid, this is NOT allowed. What are you doing here?"
The kid looks down at his shoes. He thinks for a minute.
"Well, kid, what are you doing here? And who are you? You shouldn't be here!" Jerry gets out a small pistol, and hits the butt of the gun on the kids head.
"I am going to steal from this house." The kid replies, with tears welling up in his eyes. "My name is Mark."
Jerry is about to reply, when he sees a small, delicate figure come out of nowhere. The figure is a boy, about the age of six. His face is staring blank into space.
"No..." whispers Jerry. "Not a kid."
Mark tries to tell the kid to leave before Jerry sees him. Jerry tries to act like he didn't see the kid. He continues to talk to Mark.
"Really? You brought this kid out here-"
A booming, manly voice is heard throughout the city.
"JERRY BAKER." It yells. "I KNOW YOU SEE HIM. IN REQUIREMENTS TO THE TREATY WE HAD WITH THE US GOVERNMENT, INCLUDING THE NATIONAL GUARD, YOU MUST GET RID OF ALL OF THOSE WHO DO NOT OBEY THE RULES. DISPOSE OF THESE PEOPLE AT ONCE."
"Come on, sir," replies Jerry. "These kids are just plain stupid. Let them go. And the kid, he's not even a teen." Jerry tries to explain more, but Mark is sobbing too much. And the little kid is just staring into space, not knowing what is going on.
"YOU DO NOT ASK US QUESTIONS, JERRY. WE WANT BOTH OF THEM DEAD. KILL THE TEENAGER IMMEDIATELY."
Jerry cocks his pistol. "I'm sorry." He says. The gun is raised to Mark's head. Jerry however hesitates.
"I'm sorry Mike." Mark says silently.

The silence is shattered with a deafening noise.

Blood covers the window of a nearby house. Jerry looks away from the kid. Jerry starts to tear up.
"There? Happy?" He yells out into the distance. "I just killed a teenager, trying to have a fun time with his friends. A family is now without a child, and it's all because of the completely unnecessary censorship!"
More silence comes.
"Jerry." Says the voice, except now not as loud, "You know what you must do now."
Jerry grabs his gun. "I want to make this as quick and painless as possible," he whispers to the child. Jerry hugs him, wishing that he did not have to do this.
The gun cocks. It is placed by his forehead.
"Oh, and Jerry," says the voice, "Since of that unfortunate mishap you had with me, you aren't allowed to use your gun. You are going to have to use your hands."
"You have got to be kidding me." Jerry says in anger. "This is a six year old. He did nothing, but try to prove that he was brave. Just let him go, Sir, that was my fault."
"Oh, I will let him go." The voice is angry now. "Just he'll go, without the use of your gun."
The gun falls to the ground. Jerry tries to pick it up, but something denies him the ability to do so. It's impossible.
"You can't make me do this to him."
The voice laughs. "I'll be waiting for the cleanup crew to bring me the body."
The child looks at Jerry. He stares at him blankly. Jerry can't do this. But he has to. If not, then he will get killed. And so will the kid.
He grabs the kid by the neck."I'm sorry. It's got to happen. This is painful."
"I know." replies the kid in an innocent voice. "I don't need to look cool for my brother anymore, since he's gone. I'll be alright."
Jerry tears up.
"But, why? Why does this have to happen?"
Jerry tries to talk, but he chokes up. After a small while, Jerry finally answers.
"It's the God Damn rules nowadays. I'm sorry. If I don't kill you, they will kill me. And you."
"Why do you have to be so greedy, sir?"

Jerry eats. He gets his breakfast from the local food station. He sits down at a table in the eating facility. Other National Guard members join him at an eating table.
"Hey, did you hear about the new people?" Says one National Guard Member.
"No, what about them?" Asks another.
"I heard that they were ex-murderers." Everyone was talking, and having a good time. Except Jerry.
"Really? That's cool."
"No, it's not."
"Why not?"
"Because they're new, and you know what that means."
"Oh, they have to be under a year of surveillance, right?"
"Yeah. Why people move to this town, I wonder..."
"They don't choose it. The US government makes them come here."
"Damn them, they also screwed us into living here."
"I remember when we were allowed to listen to music and read any books we wanted, back in the good ol' USA. But here, everything has to be censored."
People laugh, talk about their nights, talk about their unloving spouses, and everything else.
Except Jerry.
Jerry stands up on the eating table. The members at the table look at him.
"Boys," he starts, "yesterday was the worst day of my life."
"Yeah, we heard last night. Everyone did!" Someone there blurts out. Everyone chuckles. Except Jerry.
"I had to kill to children, they did nothing. It's over. I'm tired that the Council of Raachm is trying to censor everything. We no longer are allowed to listen to music. We can't read any books, except if it's on the history of the Raacheminian Council. I'm tired of that. I don't think any of you remember what real music sounds like. If you can remember this kind, jazz, that would be great. I loved that kind. I would listen to it every night back in the US. At least, I would, before I came here to save everyone's butts. But since they came over here, everyone has been told wrong about them. They say that they are the Chosen Ones, but they are wrong."
Everyone at the eating table looked up at Jerry, with mixed emotions. They were confused.
“Jerry, what is it that you are suggesting?”
Jerry squatted down, and called everyone in so he could whisper.

“Boys,” he whispers in a patriotic way, “I say that we take back what is ours.”

--::Continued::--
--::Continued::--
Everyone at the eating table is quiet. A National Guard member who was just at the eating table quickly leaves the feeding facility. Another one just runs away, knocking down his food and several people in the feeding facility area.
A man walks up to Jerry. "Sir." Says the man. "Would you be kind enough to get off of the table, and take a walk with me somewhere?" A gun is slightly visible. It is pointed at Jerry.
Jerry steps down off the table. The man points toward a transportational device. This one has four circular shaped cylinders. A door opens towards the back. He is pushed into the device. The door is shut on him. Jerry tries to get out, but the door won't open.
The man gets in at the the front. He is in the process of thinking of something, when the device starts to make a noise. "Damn, gotta love these think-start cars." He says to himself, and the device starts to move.
Jerry is in the device for what seems like hours. He thinks about how he is going to get himself out of this mess. The man looks back at Jerry, also looking at where he is driving. "Don't worry," the man tells Jerry in a soothing voice. "Even though the Raachm council might seem tough, they aren't that awful. They just want to speak to you, nothing wrong."
Jerry is relieved. But he still wants to know why he is being called up.

Jerry is escorted by more men to a great palace. Doors open, showing him that there is a great room ahead. He walks in. A man with a spear and a tiny auto-burst stops them, and speaks in tounges to the men escorting Jerry. The escorters leave, and the spear man puts a blindfold over Jerry's eyes. "Don't worry," the man tells Jerry in a reassuring voice (not that reassuring, since he does have a very masculine voice), "we just need this on you because nobody can see the way to the Raachm Meeting Room. I don't get it either, but we must do what we are told." He starts to push Jerry from behind.
Jerry does not know what to think. He can't get his mind straight. So he starts to count the step cycles he takes.
Forward...1 step, 2, 3.....
Wait.
Go left. Straight. 1,2,.....3,4,5,...6...
Right. Straight..1,.2..
"Steps!" Yells the man.
Jerry lifts his legs.
Twelve. Twelve steps, there are.
At the end of the steps, Jerry is told by the man to wait. And Jerry waits for many grueling minutes. He thinks about a lot of stuff. But he mostly thinks about the kid's face. The blank stare when he was forced to kill the kid. The haunting of his innocent face. Jerry can’t take it anymore. He has to get that thing out of his head. Jerry rips off his blindfold.
There is darkness around him.
A door creaks open. Or so Jerry hears. A voice starts to talk. "Jerry. You have gone against the will that we have said that you do."
A flat plasma screen TV is lighten up. It lays about thirty feet from Jerry's face. It turns on. Static is shown on the screen of the TV. Another, different voice starts to talk. "You are NOT allowed to go against the orders of the Raachm council!" The TV becomes black. He still sees the outline of it. The screen turns on. A face is looking at Jerry.
A familiar face.





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