Children of Destiny: Part ONE

I heard a scream. Then an angry male voice shouting. Then more screaming and cries for help, but I couldn't make out from who. My mind was going dark, the screams seemed to reach everywhere, from every house, windows were shattered. People screamed. Mothers cried. And I couldn’t see my mother. The room was full of black smoke. My ears and eyes burned. Then a felt a thump, as someone dragged me by the shoulders out onto the pavilion. I feared everyone was dead. When I woke up I wretched into a bucket, my eyes refocused as mom bent over to hold me said that every male, including boys no matter how young, were taken away from Meridia.

    They took my brother away. I knew we would never see him again. I wanted to understand. I cried at nights thinking, praying. I would tell Mom that I wanted to participate. I knew that the war was all the mattered. The war. There is an old saying which is that, "God shelters everyone, even the scum of the Earth." I knew that even though I’d never seen one; that the giant spider machines and planes also had to be a part of this foreign world I had never seen.

    I saw it all in my head. Spiders, planes, big oil monsters gobbling up the ocean. In these nightmares I also saw my brother, Bobby. He was standing in the wreckage of a battle. White crosses and rubble followed him everywhere he went. He would sit in one of these giant machines, and he would watch another free society go up in flames. Because burning bodies were the price-tag attached to his future, he forgot all about his family.
CHAPTER TWO: The Endless Deluge

    Three years later and their economy rapidly transformed. Where ordinary citizens could at last rush to the top and stare down at their minions. The Great Foundation prospered and was branded into every essence of life. The Great Foundation was finalized by a former US president who had ties to the Russian KGB, and wanted to control everyone.     He called it, a world at peace, where no war or violence existed. He wanted to rewrite history and shape the minds of every presence on earth. Yet the crazed religious suicides and violent dissent sparked a separation. After the Race-War was initiated by a branch of the CIA united with the World Health Organization and defense contractors to coerce everyone into DNA testing and social experimentation.

     The Race War hit the American U.S and Canadian population first, then South America. Instead, a great awakening turned into endless tyranny and eventually silence. For soon those elect few decided that they were God-chosen to sweep this planet of her soul. Believing it was their time to quell the fever of freedom and rise of rebellion, they would deal an unforgotten blow to this dissent, and pave their golden paradise with the death of the millions of resisters. Those chosen few went unscathed, and yet all would soon turn and beg for
their salvation as this mass epidemic of sickness swept the planet and nearly
destroyed all life. And so the earth was remade. When the survivors couldn't take it anymore, they begged on their knees to the Royal Elect to be saved. Then taken in to the remaining hospitals to be brainwashed, conditioned, and "cured". Some few would pay millions for a BlackMarket cure, and
a very few would steal the formula, forever in hiding until their children left them into the world happily.
    
    "The only price for truth is our happiness, and to get happiness we pay for perfection,” once said a great and powerful member of The League of Dreams. I could go on for decades about how we became so corrupt, but I must continue my story. It was nearly four years after my brother was taken that we learned that Meridia was under attack, and we needed to flee. We didn't know that the world sought to exterminate our families, and that the children had been chosen for future combats. All transportation in America is restricted. Too expensive for minorities to afford. They are strictly for the chosen few and military police. The rest of us?

    Well, if you're not bound through an RFID Ink Code, you'll be arrested on sight.You can only travel with a Handler or a Lead who has the Official Clearance. If you do not get your hand stamped with your electronic ID, then you are subject to arrest and confinement without representation and identity theft. If you are not wanted in the system or unable to enforce it, you're an extreme outlaw, rebel, or terrorist.
    So, thus began our journey to the very place we feared and hated. My mother bought us tickets to board a large boat which would carry us across the water to The East Coast of AMERICA. it was so dark inside the ship, but at night I swore I saw a star. We were very scared that once we got to AMERICA, they would send us back home. The air was cool at night, but our hope warmed us and our curiosity seemed to keep the tears away. We were leaving, alone.
    We were two small young girls, outcasts, with no idea of where we were going.There was always a hope that “The ONE” was still striving within me. The beat of my heart pounded with the rhythm of the ocean. I knew I would find peace. It went Crash, crash, crunch, crunch, thump thump. We were carried like baby crabs out into the threatening sea. We would have had more time to prepare if we had known sooner. But, news caught on slowly to Meridia.
How could these horrible men be coming again? This time in search of not just little boys, but young girls to fight their wars. "They're stealing our
children!"

Chapter Three - A New Age

    Molly hid herself from the eyes following her everywhere. Molly had left The Treatment Center years ago, her home. She had forgotten her memories. She buried her face in a book, and for a moment she was lost to another place. She was there, in a massive city filled with spiraling kaleidoscopic towers, colorful architecture…nothing bland…nothing boring. She could hear the voice speaking to her from somewhere deep within, and soon enough her migraines took over. For years had the memory of a once-powerful city remained solely in our minds, while its broken walls, ruined towers, and highways lay buried deep within its filth.

    I lived in The City of Steel, far from the ancient buildings now crumbling to dust. There was no crime and no poverty. It was protected and had enough imported goods for us to live comfortably. Although it was considered one of our country's best cities, The City of Steel did not come with a happy story. This city was once the capital of the world empire before chemical warfare destroyed even false peace. Diseases wiped out thousands of lives.

    No matter how terrible it was, our country could not do anything to stop it. It spread and could have threatened other cities as well if it had not finally been gotten under control. People discovered the source of the virus. Days went by and nothing could be done about it. Day by day the death toll climbed the charts. The virus was unstoppable and nothing could be done to cure it. It was fatal to all. Finally, after days of silence and emptiness, our country got the germs under control. When this City was finally repopulated, it was renamed The City of Peace.

    Despite that it was over-polluted, it thrived. Despite its mechanical fumes and hazardous  chemical waste reservoirs, it was the most free of corruption and a safe place to live. Only the very wealthy lived there, in an almost surreal city, where the decapitated remains of our machines performed their daily tasks, machines we’d created for only us. We were asked to participate, cooperate, doing only what was necessary to survive. The City of Peace could be compared to an elephant graveyard with bones made of steel, and from the stench of toxic gas could one smell its rotting corpses.

    There was a time once when we had more opportunities to change the world we lived in. Then, before the beast had taken over our land and put us to work for it, had we not surrendered our hopes as we had yet trembled before its all seeing. There was once a time of peace, of disobedience, of freedom. And if you think about it, it is truly beautiful compared to the quietude of blind obedience. They were  individuals with choices. They could make up their own minds, and they didn't have to slave away just to live. They didn't live for this beast that still inhabits The City of Peace. But that was a time when things were still good.

    There is yet to be a standing history of cities long ago. Here, the words that have survived all wars in all but their meager and fragmentary form will be analyzed and reorganized. These were our secrets. Secrets, mingled with accumulated myths and legends of the coming beast. They are the conspiracies. Only now through electronic records can we decipher all that once had been of the great world's city. In these remnants of our ancestry, contain all that can be derived from references in the Order and the compilations of classical myths on human acts of justice. There's nothing left of our future, only the past remains in a form we are forced to dissect.

    As we march on towards full oblivion, centuries of human progress are being fed in through our machines…only with these bitter recollections that we gather, through our willpower and constant speculations, do we have the chance to ever unveil the real truth. As we collect and piece together bits of information, we are drawing ever closer to the ultimate truth about project oblivion.

    Will it ever be passed under the scrutiny of our future scholars? This is something that we all have hoped for. History still remains the same. And only through this compiling, can a world blinded by our own human folly change. We learn to recognize patterns that influence this new world we live in now.

    There were intervals of silence that our cultural influence seemed to perpetuate. Our City was hot with anger and protestors lined the streets with signs screaming for answers. And although their voices were not strong enough to shake the walls of their falling foundations, they were loud enough to be heard across the world.
     “The outsiders are must be exterminated.They need to be punished, and we all need to be safe.” As propaganda traveled far and wide through vast cities of the coast, reaching intersecting streets of the rich and spreading across the world, more and more questions washed ashore. People wanted to know, and it could not be kept a secret for much longer. A sudden surge of rebellion threatened our leaders’ agendas. All eyes were upon them now. The people became our leader's criminals. Somehow, the questions diminished like fading reflections, and eventually all surrendered silently.
    Somehow silence is all that we seem to remember.

    When the intelligence of the attacks was put forth, who was concerned in it? Who had our interests in mind? It seemed our leader had had dreams of re-establishing democracy. Yet Democracy had failed. Now all our secret information would be gathered through trade. We collected memory sticks from friends with common interests through the underground network. Not all remained silent. A new underground order was in place. It was a group of people just like you and I, who would not be kept quiet and so together, formed a massive world-resistance, and called it the League of Dreams.

    My name is Molly; I once worked for the people who sought to destroy every dream ever created. Yet, my mission as a historian had not always been to erase the truth. I was once a part of a system that was specifically brought about to educate the people about their past. Things have changed since then.

The Airport

    Molly walked into the airport and headed directly to the changing room. A large policewoman checked her pockets. Then she removed her jacket. The woman checked the pockets of the jacket, and then commanded her to move along. Molly always hated that, even with body scanners people still had to remove clothing. Everyone did. This was the only way that they could be sure no illegal aliens, terrorists, or black market items could come aboard the plane. The plane took off as Molly looked down at the palm trees, streets, and city lights through the small window as they disappeared.
“Goodbye…” She whispered to the city as it gradually faded from sight.

Chapter Four - The Children of Destiny

    The Great World Order had come, and was welcomed by an authority on our future. After the United States had lost its power, nothing but chaos had remained for so long that people wanted and needed order. We had thirteen years of nothing but war and anarchy across the globe. Rebels led the takeover of lands across Earth. People were used for them as merely soldiers or tools.

    War and conquest had become such a routine of life. It was a game of who would wipe out whom first, and who would pay humanity’s price. Only those with enough control and power could ever ask those questions. It was our best choice when The Great World Order presented itself. Yet it was never a revolution. Everyone believed it would set them free and we were ready for peace. So we made the biggest or pettiest sacrifices to achieve it. We voted for it and ignored our fears of propaganda.

    The majority of populations across the world wanted World Order and peace.
And then it was as if we had forgotten, as if we had carried on without the slightest notion of our history. Only this time, it had no sectional representation, and there were no more nations. It had become everything the people hated, loathed, and wanted to destroy. It was all that we ever knew as kids. Every person over eighteen had a say and to vote on issues on the world’s issues. People had no reason busy as they were, to realize that this was still completely wrong.
    

    It worked like this, the socialists were ruled by the capitalists, and the capitalists were ruled by the Architects, the designers. The designers organized everything, every fundamental way we lived our lives from day-to-day. The designers had the most power on earth. In publications by the designers whose identities remain highly secret, they’ve said only that God was their divine motivator, their inspiration, and the source of the new foundation of progress. God is so much more than that.

    I believe now that God, if he is the true master Architect, is not the original God of our lost world. They were not motivated by an all loving God, a divine source in the stars. I never believed God was a dictator, and that’s partly because of where I’m from…where I’ve been outside cast off from all the respectable people. God isn’t a dream or a hope for mankind. God is not the puppet-master, and we are not his strings.

    The forces that have engineered our dreams and fueled our electric life for ages cannot be undone. And so the designers hide behind the shadows, the elites, the corporate leaders who claim that our new order is now the highest peak of civilization. No longer must we have to struggle to survive, the path has been laid out before us, brick by brick. It is the path of the future.

    In the Technocracy of The Foundation, we have martyred, murdered, and fed ourselves to our machines. These machines have carried out tasks no mortal could or would want to. They crippled lost nations, defeated empires, and brought peace to the world. Men toil behind the machinery, no longer casualties, but accessories. The scientists who create our machines lead our industries. Our industries lead our world.
    Our Foundation is just industry. What purpose is it? Those who did not serve God’s Foundation will never know such a purpose. The rest of us are worthless. The industrial revolution had begun as a revolution of progress, but as the Industrial age was turned counter-clockwise, an industrial dream turned into a nightmare, it turned against us.