||Short Story | One Shots||
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Like how cameras capture moments, so do words. With words, memories and moments are held as captives of time, in a single frame--much like a picture. Here lies a collection of one-shots, con...
That's how long the USA and North Korea had nuked each other and eventually the whole world. The skies became black with smoke, skins became charred as it bubbled and vaporized and the earth once so green, turned barren and brown. Finally, there was exactly one thousand people left—the last of the human race.
Perhaps it would have been better for our home planet if we had been wiped out. Earth would have been able to properly recover, regenerate after all the shit we had put it through. But just like cockroaches, we just don't die out. So, what did we do? We went underground and built humanity from scratch.
Ironically, despite all predictions, it wasn't even the superpowers' enmity with one another that caused the War of 2030. It was their children who, like Romeo and Juliet, fell in love. The American and the Korean who was killed by Canadians, because they feared an alliance between these two nations.
But Canada? The one land of the nicest people? Of course not! That was why no one believed it.
America blamed Korea. Korea blamed America. And when the actual perpetrator of the murder was found out, the entire world went to hell—all because two people fell in love.
For the next one hundred years, the Earth was inhabitable- the radioactive levels being so high that one breath would kill you. So, humans made life underground in a huge bunker that was built exactly for this reason.
But we had learned our lesson about love. Males and females had to be separated. Emotions were the cause of all hostility and hence, they had to be terminated. So, the Divide came into place. We were all contained in this box.
And then came me, to fuck it all up.
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Our world was a peaceful one for the most part. Of course, like any authoritarian post-apocalyptic regime which faced its trouble as depicted by something called a 'movie', our society did as well. A few years ago, about five hundred of the now five thousand (controlled) population, revolted against our policies. They believed our leaders were lying to us; that the earth was indeed habitable. So, they found a way to escape.
Our leaders told us those rebels outside were faced by instant death, that their Movement had failed. Yet, the occasional person would still make a fuss, and we would hear about the people who somehow escaped through the walls to not be seen ever again.
I wanted to believe in a Movement, but I didn't dare—for it would mean I wanted emotion. That was a crime. But a part of me always hoped it was true—and I knew I was different because of that.
Ceremoniously, every morning, soldiers would come to inject everyone with a serum. This made sure our emotions were kept in check, that we felt nothing—especially love.
Our routines were methodical, and the only time we saw everyone was at the Café to eat.
