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In the Heart of It

Acceptance in Defeat

By Christine PattersonPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
2

This locket represents my oppression. All of the citizens of New Hope had to wear one, each with their own identifying number marking us as underclass peasants. We didn't have the money or the status not to be burdened with the organ made out of copper and painted red. Some say that pre-war was amazing. You could drink and dance and be with friends all day if you wanted to. Food and water were abundant, people weren't trying to rape and kill for pennies. Entertainment was an actual thing. I was too young to remember that world being only 4 at the time. I say that whatever had been before the Heart War of 2045 didn't matter because none of us were getting out of this existence alive. There was no nuclear war, there was no fighting on homeland or on peoples own soil. No, it was the body that raged a war and we as a humanity needed to figure why everyones hearts were stopping with no warning and no justification. Scientists tried to figure out what was happening, top leaders all over the planet desperately trying to find the "cure" before their time was up as well. Sooner or later we were all going to die but it was all from the same thing, the heart failure. Obesity, health issues, complications from childbirth, car crashes, or accidents it didn't matter. Our bodies were in amazing condition with the chance to heal at rapid speed. We were all strong, we were all more than able bodied at top physical condition and that applied to the young and old alike. There was one caveat though, no one lived past 70. People were losing their minds trying to figure out the cause and the solution but to no avail. Half the population died out within the first 3 months. After that, another quarter and when this mystery plague finally took it's last heaving breath, there were only 900,000 souls left. That was 60 years ago and no one is really trying anymore, it's just reality. A day to day fact that we live with and accept. We can still have children but it's difficult to conceive. Even drugs don't work to help with it. Most of us choose not to have children anyway. Why would we bring another being into this crap, miserable pain of an existence? The food and water is heavily rationed for no reason other than greed and power by those higher ups called the Archangels. Bottom feeders who use us as pack mules and slaves disguised by a fake smile and fake kindness. Archangels had one purpose and that was to control us. There was still enough left of the world in which we could all live by ourselves and not be bothered by a neighbor. We could live off our own land and raise our own food but humanity was corralled into a new territory, heavily watched and guarded. The idea came from one man, a lone survivor of his family who became hateful and cruel. Robert Pennington thought if humanity stayed together that we would have a higher chance of survival. Instead of letting us branch out and flourishing, our lives becoming full of meaning and success, community needed to come first. Pennington sold this farce to the rich and powerful and made allies. He was an average man with average dreams and resented the elite, wishing to be them. On paper it seemed genuine and good when in actuality it was a ruse drenched in hell. Only those deemed worthy by himself personally adopted the title and started running the show. Most of us willingly went because we had nothing and nobody. The false hope of community and humanity working hand in hand was too tempting. It was only after years of working the soil and being the Archangels maids, butlers cooks, servants, and slaves did we come to realize what New Hope really was, a jail sentence. They placed heart shaped lockets on us with numbers to keep track. What once was a symbol of love and peace is now another tool of destruction. Those that tried to fight were killed by the Archangels army known as the Followers. We are all equally strong but they have weapons and state of the art technology to bring us down. Our one saving grace through the days is the heavily alcohol laden swill we get. Just like the egyptians, we are lulled into the same drunken calmness each night and woken up by it. It consumes our lives and is a currency for the lower classes. I only have 6 years left before I'm taken down for good. I could go before that but my prayers were never answered of an early death. One day I hope someone sees through the haze to fight and win for a better life. Until then, I'm gonna keep drinking and keep my head down. I have no fight left in my soul, sometimes it's better to accept that which we cannot change and live another day. Really, that's all we have.

Short Story
2

About the Creator

Christine Patterson

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