The Winning Piece

Here is my winning piece, we hope you like it!  The FPS Future Scenario topic was "Propaganda" and we were tasked to write a 1,500 word short story.  It took a lot of grumpy mood swings and my grandmother asking me if i was all right.  I thought of this because I wanted to write about society's view on perfection and wondered if i could incorporate propaganda.  I plotted this with my mom while we washed the dishes.  

 The quote at the very top is a paraphrase of Thomas Jefferson's quote, "I prefer dangerous freedom to peaceful slavery." I found the quote very interesting, and it served as inspiration for my story; the rest of the scenario is entirely my own.
Enjoy!

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The Elysium of Freedom

The Nohara sisters are on the run, fearing becoming one of them. Ever since their mother told them to run, Eve has carried her younger sister all over America, running from the government and their lies, with each day a struggle to survive in a world that condemns free will.

   
      My mother once told me that a dangerous freedom is better than a peaceful slavery. She told me this the day I began my run. ‘I love you, Eve,’ she had murmured, kissing me on the forehead. ‘Now go. Take your sister and run. Run and don’t look back.’

     To this day, I am still running, trying to keep my sister and I alive in a world that demands our death. The government fears the ones like us, those who defy The Programme. They think that any sign of disobedience is the potential catalyst for the next war, so they hunt us down. All because we don’t want to live the ‘perfect life.’ But the perfect life is not so perfect when you are The Programmed, and the government controls everything you say and do; the perfect life is the perfect lie, when you realize that you are nothing but a doll, a puppet with no free will, living under a master bred from fear.

    The Programme is the government’s easy way out of the war. They realized they could not win the people with empty speeches and empty promises, so they took the cowardly path. ‘Tired of the war?’ they asked. ‘We can fix that! Grab your form today and join The Programme. America needs you!’ They waved consent forms in our faces with fine print so fine that we couldn’t see the flaws.

     Microchips are implanted in the right arm of every citizen who signed the form, and The Programme was set in action. The government, with one small chip, had access to the minds of all, able to Programme the people’s actions and speech from headquarters. With one small chip, the fire was dampened, tongues were maimed, and the wild animals were tamed. We regained our peace, but we were now quiet, docile, obedient little things, only saying and doing what we were meant to.

     Mother found out. She told us to run, wanting us to defy the oppression; in a dictated world, my mother sacrificed her own freedom, so that we had a chance at life. To this day, I am trying to make sure that her sacrifice does not go to waste.

~

 Tessa is curled up in a ball when I get back ‘home.’ At the moment, we are living in an abandoned apartment on Fifth. Everything is broken, and the walls are claimed by graffiti. It is shelter, however- something that is better than living in a damp alleyway.

     I sit down at the foot of the springy mattress, setting down my tatty messenger bag. I stroke Tessa’s hair gently, looking fondly at my sister. The .45 I gave her sits on the drawer, and I let out a heavy sigh. My eight year old sister is learning to wield guns and knives, living in a hell hole for sometimes days on her own.

     Tessa stirs gently and props herself up on one elbow. When she sees me, she instinctively reaches for her gun, my instructions clearly drilled in her head: ‘shoot first, ask questions later.’

Hey,’ I say with a weary smile. ‘It’s okay, Imouto. It’s just me, Eve.’

    ‘How do I know you haven’t been Programmed?’ she asks, still reaching for her gun.

   ‘Are you kidding?’ I ask teasingly, ruffling her hair. ‘They couldn’t catch Eve Nohara if they tried.’ Tessa looks uncertain, so I flash her a confident smile. I take the messenger bag and let the contents slide onto the bed. One pitiful loaf of bread, a canteen of lumpy stew, and a small flask of water.

     Tessa’s eyes light up and she sits up. My heart lurches, realizing that she’s been alone with no food for a few days now.

     ‘Here you go,’ I murmur, tearing the bread and giving her the bigger half. She takes it eagerly and pours herself some of the stew and begins wolfing it down, completely pushing aside the fact that it is stone cold.


     ‘Aren’t you hungry, Neesan?’ Tessa asks, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. I force a smile on my face and promise quietly,


     ‘I’ll eat later.’ Tessa looks uncertain, and her black eyes are concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ they seem to ask. I push aside my tears and bring her close to my chest. Tessa shouldn’t need to worry about me. In an ideal world, she would be running around playing. She would have rosy cheeks and warm skin, unlike her pale skin now that has never really known the sun. She would have scrapes up her knees and grass stains on her dress.


     She shouldn’t be living like this. Neither of us should be. I hate to think that if we do not get out of America, Tessa could be living like this for the rest of her life. Looking over her shoulder and running with callouses on her feet and crime on her hands. I wish I could get us out of this hell, into a different country like England or New Zealand, where the people still have their free will. Because if we don’t have our free will, what do we have? I hate this world where people are under the cruel, iron grasp of the government- and then because of The Programme, they cannot even fight back. I hate the fact that in America, our society is based on the idea of a ‘perfect’ citizen. The citizen who obeys their government, loves them, and agrees with them, but only because they’re Programmed to. I hate this world where ‘perfection’ is the solution to our war. Where ‘perfection’ is accepted. When will they realize that we are human? We are meant to have a fire in our hearts, a hunger to rise up against injustice, and a freedom to do what we want. We are meant to know mistake and flaw and learn from it- when they take that away from us, we lose what makes us human.

     ‘Neesan, why are you crying?’ Tessa asks quietly, kneeling to wipe the tears from my face. ‘Please don’t cry- daiseku desu.’

     ‘I love you too, Tessa-chan,’ I half laugh, half sob. I stroke her hair gently and hum quietly the lullaby our mother used to sing to us, back when things were simple and things were good. When our smiles meant something and our eyes were wide with curiosity. When we had home cooked food on our table, not stolen food, and when we could enjoy the daylight properly.

     I haven’t heard the lullaby since I was three years old, and my mother sang it to me before going to bed, and she brushed the knots gently from my hair and told me she loved me. It reminds me of the days when Tessa and I were happy, and it gives me the hope that things will once more get better. Hope that, maybe, one day, I can find a way to get us away from this country and to the joy of knowing freedom. A place where we can run around without fear of the government finding us and capturing us.

     Brushing away Tessa’s long black hair, I think of that world, smiling slightly to myself. A world of hope where curiosity is allowed. Where I can ask all the questions in the world without it being seen as an act of defiance. Where I can cut my hair as short as I like without the government fearing me as the catalyst of the new war. Where we will know not a dangerous freedom, but a peaceful freedom; where we won’t fear slavery and losing our humanity.

     I sing to comfort Tessa, as it is the last reminder of the life we left behind. I sometimes like to think my mother, despite being Programmed, is singing with us when we are singing. I will sing it when my lips taste icy cold water, when my feet know grass, and the shadows fade from beneath my eyes and hurt is no longer set to my mouth- a thank you to my mother for giving us this chance at life.

     Tessa curls closer to me, resting her head against my shoulder. We will pull through, I think to myself. We are Noharas- we are strong. Silently, I vow to myself that Tessa will never live a thief like me. She will never know the fear of running through the city, mercenaries on her tail. I will bring her to safety, to a world where she can thrive, even if I must do it with my dying breath. Because my sister deserves the world, and so much more.

     So even if it means I must risk my life another day, scrounging for food to ensure our survival, I will do it. I will rage against the dying night, and I swear that I will bring us both to the Elysium of freedom.

Artwork by Pilar Cruz