Now and Forever

I grinned, grabbing my warn out, patched up bag. I was now sixteen. Actually a few days ago I turned sixteen. I received nothing, but its not like I expected anything. Who would give someone something for free? Expecting nothing in return? That's just...stupid. Its stupid, and I don't see why people do it.

I was grinning because of Fiver. He was toying around with a mouse, picking it up with his mouth, tossing it around, torturing the poor thing. Yet it was funny because he had this weird smile on his face, as if he was showing off for me. Well, I’m unclear whether its a smile or just him pulling his lips back. Eventually, I took the mouse, put it out of my misery, and threw it back to Fiver for him to eat.

I was heading to the dilapidated Main City, my journey for the past year. I abandoned my life style as a nomad, a loner. Of course I stopped at camp sites and such, but this was one of the few cities around. Everything else was just abandoned buildings with growing forests or ruins. They’re almost the same thing anyway. Even the Main City was just a bunch of building from an old city. I believe it was a city in the country what was called America once upon a time. Now its the Main, the only city with working electronics.

It’d be great to be able to use electricity, but why not help other cities get back on their feet? Why not help? Well, its because of the tension. The Main hates everyone, everyone hates Main, everyone hates everyone. Hostility is everywhere.

For the last decade, though, rumor has it that a city in Asia, Caldonia, has got working electricity too. Its a rumor. Only a rumor. But Caldonia is a threat no matter what. Caldonia and this other smaller city have an alliance, the only standing alliance today, and together, they could take the Main out.

Smaller towns and villiages exist, but only a few cities have weapons, guards, or scholars. Caldonia and the Main were head-and-head, with one or two close followers. Both of which are on the same continent as the Main.

I had gotten only a few miles and already felt like going to sleep. I wasn’t moving too fast, I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, and I hadn’t even gone that far. It made me angry which I then used to push forward a few more miles. Fiver had run off to who knows where, and I have a feeling it was about to rain.

Half and half chance, I think. The sky was dark gray, but it had been that gray for a day or two now. It doesn’t matter, I guess. I’ll be ready for it; besides, I need some good, fresh water.

The thing I was really dreading was the journey left. Its anywhere between two days or two weeks, all depending on the weather and surroundings. I knew the final stretch to the Main is the hardest. People I run into always talk about it. Some people complain about the lack of shelter or cover(it’s just a large meadow), others complain the river I have yet to cross, and lastly people complain about the rebels.

Rebel is just a simple label for the type of people these are. They’ve acquired several different names: thieves, liars, saviors, villains, heroes, traitors. I viewed them as a bad thing like most others. I had my own reasons. I didn’t stereotype, wasn’t prejudice to them, like some; I based my opinion on experience. On the past.

I hated them with all my heart. They had killed my father in the third massacre in their rebellion. I watched them shoot him. I watched with nothing to do as my father died. They laughed relentlessly at the dead, dieing, and injured.

That was over ten years ago. As much as I know holding a grudge won’t help me, the pain and rage pushes me forward. I need to live on for the dead, for my family.

I looked up and saw it. The skyline. As I was gazing at the most beautiful sight, I tripped. My hands flew out in front of me, and caught myself. My hands and arms pushed me up. I looked at the knife. If I hadn’t caught myself I would have been killed by gravity. Or. Wait.

Once I was back on my feet, I turned around, and then I saw the wire. In the sunlight, it reflected the light to my eyes, making it visible. It was a trap set to kill. I realized then, that I was in rebel territory. I must now watch my feet, my surroundings, everything.

I picked up my pace while still remaining cautious. The sun was setting. It would be a good idea to set up camp and sleep for the night, but I know its only a few more miles. I have yet to cross the river, and plus, traveling in the dark gives me camouflage from the rebels.



There it was. I could see it. The tall modern buildings surrounded by smaller dilapidated buildings. A mile or so left. The only thing between me and the Main was the river. I have not encountered any rebels and I’m beginning to think the stories were all lies. The stories about how the rebels didn’t wipe themselves out accidentally with a nuke, that they remained in places like the Meadow and outside of Caldonia. There are even supposed towns of rebels.

I hear the trickling of water, breath in the cold air, and finally see the wide “river.” River? No more like a wide creek. Sure I would get wet, but there’s really no problem with wading through the creek. I could see the bottom, and it was about fifteen feet long. Piece of cake.

This is why I trust no one. First people lie about the wide, powerful river, then about the brutal rebels; next thing you know their complaining about the weather.

I take off my shoes, put them in my pack, and roll up my customary leggings. to my thighs. As I step down into the water, chills are sent up my spine. The water is bitter cold for the season of Spring, but it was the only way. I put my other foot in, and began to wade through the water.

It was dark now, practically pitch black. After the crossing the creek, it would be a matter of minutes, running, until I got there. I looked at the creek bed, slimy rocks, with slow, calming water. The Meadow was quiet, not a single sound, only the rush of water. As I look down, there is no rush of water. I remember then, I'm in a stream, a creek.

I’m about half way through the river when I realize what’s really happening. I should have been smarter. I look toward the thunderous sound as it grows louder. The river is coming. There must have been a dam upstream - upriver - that broke. On accident or on purpose. But next thing I know, the water has engulfed me.

Freezing, I try to resurface, but I have no clue which way is what. I can’t see anything, but I know I’m being carried down the river quickly. I hit a rock, a log, something, and then all went black. I fell into nothingness.



My eyes snap open, and as I look around, I see I’m in a tent and a sleeping bag. My tent. My sleeping bag. But I can’t find my pack. I scramble out of my sleeping bag when I also notice I’m only in my undergarments. I crawl out of my tent, wearing only underwear and a bra. The cold air rushes at me as I see a fire set up with my clothes drying on a makeshift clothesline hanging over the fire.

So, I try to remember my life, and try to make sure I’m not delusional.

My name is Electra Royce. I am sixteen years old, and I live alone. I am on my way to the Maine. I should be dead at the bottom of a river in the Meadow. I should be dead, yet camp is set up.

Everything is fine. I’m not delusional. Something is wrong.

“You’re up,” a voice said behind me. I whip around and see a shadowy tall figure came into the light. “Electra.”

“How do you know my name? Oh, and its El to you.” I ask. I feel his eyes on my body, but I don’t care. I don’t fell embarrassed; its something many people these days don’t care about. “How you know my name?”

“I...uh...” He stutters, taking the clothes of the thin string and giving them to me. “Your bag has you name on it.”

“And you are?”

“Cole.”

For some reason it sounded familiar. I noticed a scar on his long face. His eyes were a plain, lifeless gray, but pierced through the air vibrantly. His hair was shaggy and a dirty blond color. He stood taller than me, and looked maybe one or two years older. He wore a tight black shirt, and then I realized he was in military uniform.

“You’re a soldier? Guard?” I knew instantly to be careful. Never trust strangers, especially if there in the ranks. Even though my father was ex-military, its what got him dead. The army taught him to be a hero, instead of running away with your family. He had to go get himself killed helping others. Not his family.

“I’m First Guard to Main City,” he replied, standing taller as if to show off.

“Great. Maybe you can get me to the Main, then?” I say, not really caring if he was first, second, or third guard. I just wanted to go to the Main. Something then popped into my head. “How am I here right now? Not dead? And where is my pack?”

“Well, after I heard somebody was coming to the Main, I was sent out to escort you past the river. It was too late, and the rebels had already released the dam. Yes, they meant to kill you. So, I followed you down, and eventually you got close enough the shore for me to grab you,” he handed me my bag.

“Well, thanks.” I sat down on the ground, went through my pack, and looked up. “You took something. I want it back. Now.”

“Took what?”

“The little thing.” I didn’t know how to describe it. It was old technology, useless now. “Its a flash-drive, with a faint blue light. Please tell me you know what I’m talking about.”

If any place had electricity, they weren’t wasting it on old technology. There are some many new things that don’t even matter because practically the whole world is in a blackout. With the exception of my flash drive, I could care less about technology. We grew so dependent on it, when it was destroyed, people died left and right. That was about sixteen years ago.

“Um,” the stranger stuttered. Liar. “No.”

“Liar,” I repeated, this time aloud.

“What?”

“Just give me it.”

“I don’t have it.”

I walked right up to him in his face. Our bodies so close, I could feel his warmth, hear his breath, and sense his tiredness. It reminded my of my father, of safety. I looked right into his eyes and whispered in a harsh voice which made me scared of my own self, “Last. Chance.” I breathed them out so quietly though.

I heard a grumble as he fumbled the small gadget out of his pocket. As soon as a saw the faint, flashy light, I snatched out of his hands, turned away, and put it through a loose seem in my pack, a secret pocket for it. I turned back to him with a smile.

“Thank you.”

He mumbled something I didn’t hear. I didn’t care. I was safe.



I didn’t talk to Cole the rest of the night. We camped there until dawn and left for the Main. He kept asking me why the flash-drive was so bloody important to me.

“Because it has confidential information on it about confidential stuff. If you found out, secret agents would come assassinate you and blow up the Main.” This was my third fake story. I wasn’t even trying to make it believable. The first one was about acid rain or something and the second one was about some cloning operation.

“Come on. Seriously,” he begs.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know whats on it?”

“First I don’t have anything to put it in, second it was my fathers. I found it in his pocket the night before he died.”

“Really?” He seems surprised, not by he fact that my father was dead, bu the fact that I stole something.

“Yes, really,” I imitate him.

I turned to see a suppressed grin on his face. He was cute; I won’t lie. But let me get this out now. Cute isn’t my thing. I have no interest in boys whatsoever. Love is a weak link; it can get you killed. I will never fall in love with anyone. I decided this after my father died and when my mother betrayed the world. It only causes pain.

“Elly, listen to me.”

“Yes, father,” I reply, disciplined.

“When you fight, let go of all emotions. You must feel nothing. No love, no anger, no sympathy. Emotions can lead to a fault, a weakness, a mistake. Understand?”

With a nod, I rose to my feet. My father and I had been sparring for hours, practicing. I was on the ground every ten seconds.

No emotions. Ever. Its a fault, a weakness, a mistake because they can lead you to bad, stupid decisions.

“Look,” Cole said, distracting me.

I looked up and saw broken, dilapidated buildings. Towering over them, a mile or so away, we’re glossy buildings. The outside to the Main was old, dead, and useless, just protection in a way. But the inside is where it all was. Cars, lights, things I’ve never even imagined were there.

As we drew closer to the core of the Main, I couldn’t believe it. I always imagined the Main to be just like the other cities and towns, but with a few flickering lights. It was so much more.

Cole began to explain it all to me. Holograms, Shard, and the Central Messaging System (CMS.) I know what the holograms were. My dad would be delivered one every now and then from the Main. And I’ve heard of tabs. It was a small piece of glass, no more than six inches wide and four inches tall, that had a silver thing attached to the end. It projected the screen light, the image on the glass. One can touch, flick, write, and tap on a Shard. Its virtually used for everything. There are even versions of it five times as big, but not as portable.

Lastly was this nifty little communicator. Though one can send text messages through a Shard, CMS takes less time and is completely unnoticeable. I little chip is imprinted on the skin of your wrist. It reads your heart rate, and if it were to drop, or speed up, or anything unnatural, a red light beeps at the CMS building. Safety guaranteed with immediate action. CMS can also send messages, play messages, store events, and even your memories. Yes. CMS allows you to take mental photos and videos.

But why do photos and videos matter? Its not a good memory obviously if one needs help remembering it. I remember the day, very vividly, when I had my first crush on a kid in my village. I remember the day my father died. And I know I will always remember today. The pungent, yet sweet smell of the Main. The flashy lights, loud noises, and the chilliness of the morning. Regardless of all that, I wonder what it would be like to take a photo. Not a mental one, but any photo at all.

“El...”

I looked over to Cole. “What?”

“You zoned out while I was talking to you about how CMS works.”

I don’t care how it works, but it does. That's all that matters. The Main seems to be taking advantage of all this electricity. It was good though. Its simply putting it to use. Good, I tell myself, very good.

“Sorry,” I half-heartedly said.

“Anyway, I have question,” he turns to me seroius, now having my attention.

I narrow my eyes at him and reply, “And I might have an answer.”

“What are you doing here? Why’d you come to the Main?”

“The root cause goes back about five years? Six? I have no clue. Long story short, I have nowhere else to go. So why not go to the most technological advanced city? Start a new fresh life?”

His lips formed a simple “O.” I can tell he wants the whole story, but why should I tell some stranger about my past? I’ve only known Cole for less than 24 hours.

“What are you going to do here?”

Whats with all the bloody questions? “I don’t know, Cole,” I snap. “I don’t know. Everything is so screwed up and you don’t even know. You don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Calm down. Its part of my job, y’know? I have to make sure you not some sort of a terrorist. So give me a real answer. For both questions,” his tone was low. He’s mad. I’m mad. Great.

I sucked in a deep breath, ready to let everything spill. Here goes everything.