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Rated: E · Novel · Action/Adventure · #2130748
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Chapter one
It was a lovely day, though not in terms of weather. No, it was simply one of those days where everything seemed to fall into place. A day where you felt peaceful, as if you were walking on sunshine. While leaning back into her work chair, Amelia keene pondered over whether it was on one those scarce days that the band famous for the song (walking on sunshine) first wrote their famous lines, the lines that would unavoidably leave them with generations of devotees. There was no way of knowing for sure, she countered, since anyone with the knowledge required to provide the answer to her inquiry had been dead for quite a few centuries. Although she wouldn't go as far as saying that it was as if Katrina and the Waves never existed, the heritage that came with their music and those of other past pieces, had almost completely died out. It was people like her, with their undivided love for foregone art, that kept the ancient music of the Earth alive. Without so much time and attention, the cultural euphony would simply blink out of existence as if being swallowed by a black hole. She had seen it happen, when certain languages ceased to exist or when plants stopped being introduced to the monotone environment of Archeon until they were forgotten and their names lost forever in the dark sinkhole of past cultures deemed unimportant by The Guard. The Guard, with their volatile methods, made up the government and ruled meticulously over all the celestial bodies of one of the four star systems implanted over the past century; the Aldiban system. Although they didn't have much to rule over, they did it with an iron grip. There was no such thing as a mishap, it purely wasn't part of their vocabulary and the constant watchful eyes of the cameras they implanted made America feel rather uneasy.

Archeon, being the smallest system in the galaxy, consisted of only three planets joined by long vitreous tubes of force fields that allowed the passage of merchandise and of citizens to and thro. The horizontal, pillar-like tunnels connecting them made the entire structure look like an enormous triangle if one were to go tens of thousands of kilometers away from it and looked down. These precious communication routes were being guarded by Sentinels, men of incredible size wearing monk-like robes with thin straps of leather attached to their torsos where their gleaming weapons lay. These vicious individuals, unwavering in their loyalty to the higher forces, were instituted by The Guard. They don't take any chances, nor should they, she added, for a rebellion is on the march. Or so they say. They being the wandering lost souls of the West end of Norfolk, one of the six cities of Archeon. Thankfully for her, they could be trusted with information although, with anything other than that, it was at your own peril.

Honestly, she couldn't see why The Guard would feel threatened by an insignificant bunch of rebels (as they called them) that haven't even gotten close to the Aldiban system yet. Although people don't care much for these news, too preoccupied by their insignificant lives, Amelia did. It was change in an unchanging city, for her that was enough. Yet, something peculiar had been constantly tugging at the edges of her mind, stealing away her thoughts during her work days, when the hours ahead seemed to stretch out for eternity and it became difficult to concentrate on her simple tasks. All of it was about the way The Guard made the whole ordeal look unimportant and yet, reinforced the borders between the planets with twice the normal charge of Sentinels. They were even talking about installing a curfew, which, unsurprisingly, seemed to be the only thing getting the citizens of Archeon to react. She laughed at this. What would happen if residents couldn't leave the stink holes they call their homes after a long day of work, all in the interest of getting drunk and forgetting their grueling lives? Nothing good she presumed.

Yes, it was a nice day, she decided. Although there wasn't such a thing as weather on Archeon where the temperature remained at a cool twenty-two all year long, the overhead sky seemed less clouded by the toxic fumes coming from the West end. That was probably just her imagination though - she reminded herself - being tricked by her desire for it to be so. She saw her sudden cheerfulness go down a notch as she stared through the stained window giving way to the fairly decent sightline of the city that had been granted to her when she had gotten her most recent promotion. There wasn't much to celebrate about getting more hours with the same pay and a slightly bigger office with a dirty window adorning the right wall. The East end where she worked - she had to admit - was much better than the West. Although it still wasn't much to look at, even without the typical smoke that hung in the distance over the west, she found herself enjoying the sight of the bustling crowds of regal looking workers going about their busy lives. Without making any noise, she got up and gathered her stuff. It was ironic, Amelia nagged herself, that she admired the well-off when she knew she would never achieve the level of comfort they lived by. Without a family, the only true source of revenue she could count on was, sadly, herself.

With a bitter smile on her lips, Amelia left her workplace at a brisk walk, weaving herself across the mass of people gathered in the square. It was rush hour and she hated not having left earlier. That damn promotion she swore under her breath. She had wanted to refuse it but what would she have said to her boss, ''Thanks but cash is what I need, not a ten-centimetre-larger office''? That would definitely had gotten her fired. It was the truth though, she needed the money, she needed every little scrap she could get.

Looking at the masses in front of her, she glumly registered the fact that she would much rather have endured another hour of painful work to escape the bottleneck of Busettleg Plaza where being stomped to death seemed much rather likely to happen than say, in a small cubicle.
... to be continued...


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