The Following
Nobody lived over the age of 40 in the year 2030. It was very simple how the mechanics of society worked, children were at the prime of their life at peak maturity, 18, and then died at the age of 30, when their body began to break down and grow older. The revolution had already been running for four years, children of the world taught the basics of life by their teachers, the directors.
Children were enlightened with what adults had missed, the directors taught their young minds the truth of the matter. Their adults, the pigs would lavish upon themselves great gifts, while their counterparts in foreign countries would suffer and starve. Adults would ruin the world, bury it in a pile of smoke and metal just so they could enjoy, in their lifetime air conditioning and cold food.
At first, the good children were loyal to their parents, refusing the teachers' ideas, until something happened.
Steve was a good child, and he noticed two different things that would happen. They would either be hurt by some unintended punishment, and from that day on would plot their breath of free, kind, air. They would believe the teachers, for they were truly the intellectuals of society, not their industry minded parents.
Steve laughed at the thought now. Teachers, who would have thought, those perpetual smiles were plotting the death of a angry parent, yelling at misunderstanding and the failure of their children. What a sick irony it was, that those with weak, submissive personalities would come to rule nations instead of classrooms.
Steve was 16 at the time of his parents death, he had known it would come, it was upon the lips of every child who felt short-changed. How aloof the teachers were, they were quick to kill informants of them, aloof enough with the children to succeed. Steve had even heard in some places, children were offered free grades to keep silent, how silly that was, now that school no longer existed except for the directors learning videos.
Steve, ever the philospher, considered that children just needed more attention, and as video games became more violenter and violenter they looked towards that for solace, but pressing a upon a plastic remote compared to the slaughter of real people was much more fun. Steve read books, having no affinity for video games, disgusted at the simplicity and repitition.
Although Steve saw many of his friends as comrades of the revolution, he himself was forced into the revolution, despite its logic and sensibility, he tried to save his parents by pretending it was only him in the house.
That worked.
Until the squad of teenagers came about, with their stolen m16's and shotguns yelling for all people within the house to evacuate.
It was bloody, their heads up against the chamber, until the trigger dropped. Out of the otherside of the head, the bullet issued, muffled by the flesh and skull of his parents, who pleaded for their lives. The leader of that group was Edmond, nickname Snake, he smiled at Steve when this happen and consoled a shocked Steve, telling him of the great things that were to come.
How kind Snake's eyes looked, shone with white glory blinded by those ideals of world peace, ending world hunger, and the brilliance of their directors. Steve knew that he hated those children, impressionable serfs to do the directors bidding. But more than that he hated the directors, for they were to blame for the death of his parents.
Everyone was armed nowadays, if someone wasn't they were dead within five minutes. Steve had a 9mm in his back pocket, a long army knife in a sheathe slung on his belt, and carried a box of ammo in his pocket with him always. He had already used the 9mm, he was a decent shot, and it was thankful he even had that. Some children even went out and tried to strangle others, the gunfights were terrible. They might have weapons, but they were still children.
It was easy to get the weapons, as nobody assumed a class field trip to a local library next to the marine base would be dangerous, then it was just up to the marines who assumed the children would be fine. Next thing they new on the local news a band of elite robbers had destroyed and robbed an arms factory.
Other countries Steve no longer had ideas about, they had either retracted all their news people away from revolutionary zones, or they themselves were revolutionized. Adults still lived, it was impossible to eradicate all of them. They hid from the children, it was now commonplace for an innocent seven year old to scream out and call armed twelve year olds, no child was innocent.
Steve made a meager living. Food was scarce and low quality, the only well-fed people were the teenagers with their directors, who would camp farms, working the farm with twice as many guards as workers. Children were segregated into groups, teenagers were the top of the food chain, the directors were always surrounded by at least five of their favorites. Little children on the other hand were the bottom, many of them dying from starvation and disease.
Children would be built into groups, perhaps two or three teenagers at the top, some ten to twelve year olds, and the best seven year olds. Nobody picked any six year olds, they would only slow down the group, weaken it. If someone was a loner like Steve, he better be fit, smart, and flexible. All the mediocre loners would be killed, claimed as enemies of the revolution, or unfit for the gene pool.
Those who did survive were legendary, they became the heroes of the age. Steve himself had heard about his own adventure, where he had tricked three teenagers and slaughtered them one by one, despite their assault rifles. Of course it was really a fourteen year old and two ten year olds with a pair of magnums. But they were hungry and saw him as prey, being a loner. Some loners would loan their services to the directors, obviously being of smart breed and considerable power upon the young ones with their heroic deeds.
That's what Steve did, he was a hunter. |
Submission Name: The Following
