Chelsea Kurtz
Stories (1/0)
Behold, a book.
Rebel had never left the city. Seventeen years in society and there was never a reason to leave the city. The monumental sky scrapers that were once comforting, now felt like ghastly reminders of how difficult life could be when families ended up on the wrong side of societies' favor. Today, her mother found out she did not win the house seat as the incumbent. For the first time since she could remember the events of her life, her mother was lost. She sat in their flat, with a bottle of wine and false lashes unhinged; tears streaking through matte foundation. None of Rebel's so-called friends even rang her, no video calls, no virtual meet-ups. Her inbox was depressing and silent. Rebel wanted to cry with her mother but her mother would barely let her see her anyway. The only person who Ms. Angleterre would allow witness to a breakdown was her assistant, Jack. Rebel took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped outside in the icy November air. She shrugged her jacket over her shoulders tighter and flipped up her structured hood with face flaps to cover her. She didn't want to be noticed and she desperately wished she could turn off her recognition ping. As she walked past strangers, she tried not to make eye contact. She was afraid they would connect with her ping and recognize her handle. Someone did ping her because she heard someone snicker as they walked past, a moment later they yelled, "Sucks to Suck, Angleterre!" Rebel broke out into a sprint, using her embedded peripheral vision to guide her without looking up. After a while, she stopped to catch her breath and found herself at the metro station. She looked up and a stranger pinged her handle, they started booing at her, louder and louder until others joined in. She raced down the steps and found an empty car; she sat down. The train door slid shut and crept into motion. Rebel sniffled, holding back tears. She wanted to make a status update to everyone, a grand, 'fuck you'. She said, 'open Social Setting' to her earpiece and the platform appeared in the foreground. "New update", she commanded angrily. A new window appeared in her field of vision and the typing line blinked. "Fuck you all", Rebel said. Her earpiece responded, "prohibited language detected, please restate your sentence". "F-U-C-K you all", Rebel spelled it out this time. Her earpiece responded once again, "Prohibited language detected, please restate your sentence". Rebel screamed in frustration and closed the platform. She stood up and slammed her palms against the plexiglas. She plopped back into her chair with defeat written in her bones. Tilting her head back, she slipped into slumber.
By Chelsea Kurtz3 years ago in Futurism