Status: Updated when we can/ aren't busy.
The "Perfect" World
02. Difference
James was a worker, a security guard if you will. He spent eighteen hours of his day stood on guard, making sure people were safe and well behaved in the perfect of his perfect home. He looked after fifty percent of the people here, they all found a way to get into trouble whether they meant to or not. They were good people, innocent. Perfectly innocent. They were just made to make a few mistakes, in turn 'learning' from them.
People were robots, almost, they strutted about, being told what to do and doing it without a word, they were like unnaturally well behaved five year olds. They were freaks. James wished he could be like them, normal, without any worries in the world. But he had been made with an abnormality, white hair and dark skin. A strong contrast. A malfunction in the genetics cabin that had forced him to look different. And rules were rules, rule he was still forced to follow and believe in.
Different people are wrong.
Different people are to work for others.
Different people are allowed to be shot.
Sighing, James ran his dark, weathered thirty year old fingers over his dark arm, he felt so vulnerable, yet he had to protect the freakish monsters that tortured him day to day. It was a living hell, a perfect living hell.
James was an angry person, another malfunction, he couldn't get on with people very easily, and now he wanted to take a turn and plain leave, join the mysterious 'rebellion' as it were, people that were outlawed, too different to function. He longed for them, deeply.
Now it was his thirty first birthday, he felt like it was finally time for him to get his revenge and leave, make the world different. And after all, not so fucking perfect.
People were robots, almost, they strutted about, being told what to do and doing it without a word, they were like unnaturally well behaved five year olds. They were freaks. James wished he could be like them, normal, without any worries in the world. But he had been made with an abnormality, white hair and dark skin. A strong contrast. A malfunction in the genetics cabin that had forced him to look different. And rules were rules, rule he was still forced to follow and believe in.
Different people are wrong.
Different people are to work for others.
Different people are allowed to be shot.
Sighing, James ran his dark, weathered thirty year old fingers over his dark arm, he felt so vulnerable, yet he had to protect the freakish monsters that tortured him day to day. It was a living hell, a perfect living hell.
James was an angry person, another malfunction, he couldn't get on with people very easily, and now he wanted to take a turn and plain leave, join the mysterious 'rebellion' as it were, people that were outlawed, too different to function. He longed for them, deeply.
Now it was his thirty first birthday, he felt like it was finally time for him to get his revenge and leave, make the world different. And after all, not so fucking perfect.