WhatsBroknAlice
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2011
- Posts
- 393
The year was 2092 and the current structure of the government was a constantly mutating form of various extremes.
The powers that be were in constant shift , taking control, fighting to maintain, or toppling one oppressive regime for the next.
A constant state of civil unrest had rocked the global economy and social climate for over 3 and a half decades.
The eventual settling of the masses had come only a short 10 years ago after one of the corporate powers that had taken control, had stopped negotiating. The world had stopped when the most powerful countries had aligned and all who spoke out against the regimes in each territory had been killed in a matter of weeks.
It had not taken long after the first line of tanks had not stopped for the college aged protestors who had lain in the streets. "That act had changed everything" many of the elderly who were still alive would be heard telling the young people in quiet voices. Conversations in living rooms, in late hours, frightened gazes cast towards windows, suspicious eyes on phones and computers.
All people who were not of the elite classes lived in constant fear and service of the corporations that their parents and grandparents and their grandparents parents had built from tiny shops.
People didn't speak up now and perhaps the most broken of the surviving geriatric generation were elderly women, who watched as the rights that their grandmothers and great grandmothers had fought to secure, became a distant memory. A story they told their children only to be cast incredulous glances. A young woman today, she knew the dangers of disagreeing with a man, even if he were from the same economical class. Curfews were strict, most older literature was now banned based on its tendency to incite civil unrest.
These premises led to tiny cells of rebels calling themselves freedom fighters. They were forced to live on the run, or underground, in secret camps, and nomadic clans. If one was caught supplying rebels with food, shelter, or clothing the aiding and abbedding charge would typically be enough to cost them their life or their freedom. One of the most common and frientening happenings in this society were the work camps. Privatized prisons of various types where men and women were enslaved and sold in large groups in shackles.
There were still trials and they were still held publicly though the jury was not of ones peers. There was an audience sitting now in what was known as a jury box. Criminals were made an example of, media covered government sanctioned public executions. Few lasted more than 6 months after joining up with the resistance before they were killed or arrested. The luck ones, were never heard from in open society again, creating new identities for use to fight against their oppressors. Graffiti could be occasionally seen in the streets giving people hope or encouragement but, the message was for the soldiers in the streets and their superiors. Buildings would occasionally explode with officials in them, weapons caches and caravans now and then would be taken by the hiding rebels.
One such Rebel was called Atlas, young like most of them she had earned more than a little respect in her 24 short years. By 14 the girl had been sentenced to a work camp for the crime of publishing propoganda and posession of an entire library worth of banned literature. The home she had grown up in was burned with her father inside.
It was not known how she had escaped the work camp and those who she associated with knew better than to ask.
She was not particularly tall standing just 5'5 or so at 119 pounds. At lean and well trained young fighter now. She had developed an impressive amount of skill at escaping and disposing of armed guards. Those she worked with were militant and committed to the goal of dismantling the current structure.Atlas herself was responsible for more than one key assassination, As well as redistribution of medical supplies and food to the civilians.
Atlas ducked behind a stack of crates filled with fresh fruits,veggies, and rice inside a warehouse "my exit is compromised" she whispered into the microphone of her tiny communication transmitter. She had comrades outside but they were not close enough to be of any use. "Negative, do not attempt to breach you will be caught" No reason for more of them to be caught.
She was pinned inside someone had set off an alarm and they would soon be searching the building and when they didn't find anyone they would sweep with heat seeking cameras and dogs. She could hear the overhead alarms blaring and reloading her firearms she prepared to make a run for the trash chute.
The powers that be were in constant shift , taking control, fighting to maintain, or toppling one oppressive regime for the next.
A constant state of civil unrest had rocked the global economy and social climate for over 3 and a half decades.
The eventual settling of the masses had come only a short 10 years ago after one of the corporate powers that had taken control, had stopped negotiating. The world had stopped when the most powerful countries had aligned and all who spoke out against the regimes in each territory had been killed in a matter of weeks.
It had not taken long after the first line of tanks had not stopped for the college aged protestors who had lain in the streets. "That act had changed everything" many of the elderly who were still alive would be heard telling the young people in quiet voices. Conversations in living rooms, in late hours, frightened gazes cast towards windows, suspicious eyes on phones and computers.
All people who were not of the elite classes lived in constant fear and service of the corporations that their parents and grandparents and their grandparents parents had built from tiny shops.
People didn't speak up now and perhaps the most broken of the surviving geriatric generation were elderly women, who watched as the rights that their grandmothers and great grandmothers had fought to secure, became a distant memory. A story they told their children only to be cast incredulous glances. A young woman today, she knew the dangers of disagreeing with a man, even if he were from the same economical class. Curfews were strict, most older literature was now banned based on its tendency to incite civil unrest.
These premises led to tiny cells of rebels calling themselves freedom fighters. They were forced to live on the run, or underground, in secret camps, and nomadic clans. If one was caught supplying rebels with food, shelter, or clothing the aiding and abbedding charge would typically be enough to cost them their life or their freedom. One of the most common and frientening happenings in this society were the work camps. Privatized prisons of various types where men and women were enslaved and sold in large groups in shackles.
There were still trials and they were still held publicly though the jury was not of ones peers. There was an audience sitting now in what was known as a jury box. Criminals were made an example of, media covered government sanctioned public executions. Few lasted more than 6 months after joining up with the resistance before they were killed or arrested. The luck ones, were never heard from in open society again, creating new identities for use to fight against their oppressors. Graffiti could be occasionally seen in the streets giving people hope or encouragement but, the message was for the soldiers in the streets and their superiors. Buildings would occasionally explode with officials in them, weapons caches and caravans now and then would be taken by the hiding rebels.
One such Rebel was called Atlas, young like most of them she had earned more than a little respect in her 24 short years. By 14 the girl had been sentenced to a work camp for the crime of publishing propoganda and posession of an entire library worth of banned literature. The home she had grown up in was burned with her father inside.
It was not known how she had escaped the work camp and those who she associated with knew better than to ask.
She was not particularly tall standing just 5'5 or so at 119 pounds. At lean and well trained young fighter now. She had developed an impressive amount of skill at escaping and disposing of armed guards. Those she worked with were militant and committed to the goal of dismantling the current structure.Atlas herself was responsible for more than one key assassination, As well as redistribution of medical supplies and food to the civilians.
Atlas ducked behind a stack of crates filled with fresh fruits,veggies, and rice inside a warehouse "my exit is compromised" she whispered into the microphone of her tiny communication transmitter. She had comrades outside but they were not close enough to be of any use. "Negative, do not attempt to breach you will be caught" No reason for more of them to be caught.
She was pinned inside someone had set off an alarm and they would soon be searching the building and when they didn't find anyone they would sweep with heat seeking cameras and dogs. She could hear the overhead alarms blaring and reloading her firearms she prepared to make a run for the trash chute.
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