2066

i.

Over the white noise on the older television, I watched my mother give the over-rehearsed speech to the millions of people that populated the country. Her dark brown hair was perfectly pulled up into a sleek, straight ponytail. Her charcoal grey pant suit did not have a single wrinkle in its fabric. Her mouth moved like a robot with the scripted words.

"Together," she spoke, "we can have peace. Together, we will be victorious!"

And the crowd went wild. The cameras, which were facing my mother, were now facing the crowd, showing citizens shouting, cheering, clapping, and smiling. The senators that stood behind her joined the crowd as well. I turned the television off before the chanting of my last name started.

I stood up from the small, red pillow that was on the ground and brushed off my backside. The denim felt weird underneath my fingertips - or maybe it was the fact that my hands had started to fall asleep. There was an eerie silence in the room. There was, usually, always a television or a radio on in each and every room.

The door to the room opened and I smiled. Oliver walked into the room wearing a black fitted T-shirt, a red plaid shirt that was open in the front and rolled up at the sleeves, and loose-fitting jeans. He was the epitome of the "hip" man - until he tripped. I let out a loud laugh as I made my way over to him.

I stood over him as he pushed himself off of the ground.

"Ha, ha," he laughed sarcastically. "And thanks for the help. You are so useful."

Instead of replying to his comment, I sat on the pale pink chair by the window and pulled my legs up to my chest. Oliver sighed and sat opposite of me, his large hands resting on his thighs. His right leg kept bouncing, and I glared at him, causing him to stop."

"Okay," he groaned, "it is way too quiet."

"Then turn on the television," I replied.

He stood up and went over to the television and pressed the black button, allowing the screen to fill with color. My mother's press conference was still going on, except she wasn't speaking - she was being ushered off the stage by multiple body guards, a few of them carrying guns. I pushed myself off of the chair and walked over to stand next to my tall friend.

Oliver changed the channel but every single one was covering the press conference.

"What's going on?" I whispered, my eyes wide.

"I don't know," he whispered back, squinting at the video.

The cameras then panned over to the audience where a riot was taking place. A large group of citizens were holding their intertwined hands up in the air. Many of them were also kissing, or hugging, or even in the nude, feeling each other up. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened as I watched the horrendous sight in front of me.

"You cannot control us!" a man called out into a megaphone, his voice making everyone quiet down for a moment. "We are free - we are human!"

Those who agreed let out a cheer, pumping their fists in the air with gusto. I looked over to Oliver whose eyes were still glued to the screen. He looked completely calm, slouching with a small smile on his face. Why wasn't he disgusted by this? Those rebels were breaking the most sacred law.

"Isn't that rEVOLution?" I asked.

"Sure is," he answered whilst sending me a quick glance from the corner of his eye.

The rebel group known as rEVOLution was an association of, well, rebels who were against the outlawing of physical contact. They were the biggest group known, with a following of smaller groups around the country. Since our first day of kindergarten, we have been taught that rEVOLution shoujld be treated as a disease, that we should never interact with them.

Fed up with the vulgar acts, I turned off the television. Oliver let out a small cry of shock, pulling a laugh from my lips. I sat back in the pink chair and him a curious look.

"Oli," I began, "why are you acting so calm?"

"I am?" he asked.

"We just witnessed rEVOLution interrupting a national conference," I exclaimed. "How can you just stand there and not be repulsed?"

He sighed and walked back over to sit across from me. He rubbed his left hand over his face before sitting back, crossing his leg over the other.

"Why should I be repulsed?" he retorted.

"Excuse me?"

"Why should I be repulsed?" he repeated. "They weren't hurting me."

"They could've hurt my mother! They're a disease."

"Why, Pacey? Why are they a disease? Because they stand up for what they believe in? The First Amendment says that we have the freedom of speech and to protest, and they are living up to their right."

"The First Amendment says that we have a right to peacefully protest, not break every God-damned law that we have. Our most important law is that no one can have any physical contact with another person and that is exactly what they are promoting. It's just wrong."

"Why is it so wrong? Because that's what the teachers always said? Because that's what your mother says?"

I rolled my eyes and sat back, pulling my rose shirt out from underneath my bottom. Why was he acting like this?

"Look," I sighed, "I know you think what they're doing is right because of your brother but-"

"Don't you dare bring my brother into this," he yelled as he stood up from his chair. His face was starting to take on the color of his flannel. "What my brother did was stand up for what he believes in. I can't believe you just pulled that card."

With that said he walked to the wooden door, opened it, and then slammed it shut. I stared at the the chair where my best friend sat, wondering what the hell just happened.