Broken Doll

Chapter Four

The factory, as I quickly discovered it was, was dimly lit, with the light from outside providing the only source of illumination. I attempted the light switch, but much like I expected, the suspended lights hanging from the ceiling remained dark.

I was surrounded by large machines that were darkened with age now but must have been shiny and intimidating back in the height of their existence. An array of offices looked out on the open floor where the machines were, and a bunch of papers carpeted the floor.

I picked up one of the papers and moved closer to a lighted outside-facing window to study it closer. Along the top of the page, printed in strange black lettering, were the words "New York Times."

New York was a place I had heard of before, a large collection of buildings called a "city" back when our society was constantly plagued by war and destruction.

The name itself, New York Times, sounded very familiar. I thought hard to all of my Recorded Records instruction to pull out a single word:

Newspaper.

Before home projectors, newspapers were how people would communicate national events. They were known to print lies about the government, saying that presidents were losing control, and they would even make bold moves challenging the government and its policies.

Newspapers were brave, but stupid. Governments were never meant to be questioned. That's probably why President Dochary shut them down.

I looked around and noticed that every paper coating the ground was in the same newspaper format. I looked at the machines with the conveyor belts through the middle and realized exactly what this factory was:

An ancient government bashing organization known as a Printing Press.

A normal person with a normal, incurious mind, would have run out the doors and to the local Government Station to point out such a disgrace existing on Docharian land. I, the abnormal wonderer, sat down in front of the window and started to read.

The first few articles on the page I had originally picked up did not interest me; one regarding an increase in taxes (a foreign term to me), the election of a governor (also foreign), and budget cuts. They then stopped short with a small tag at the bottom that said "see..." followed by a number and a letter. Not understanding that system, I tossed the page aside and picked up another one.

Potential war looming
Dark days to come
Government silencing voter opinions
First attack in Chicago
Government takeover leaves country in turmoil

Title after title my head started to spin. Nothing of "government takeovers" or "silencing voter opinions" was ever mentioned in Recorded Records history... Was this what they meant when they said newspapers lied?

Or is it the other way around?

I stayed in the factory for almost two hours, searching for stories that linked to the one I just read. Slowly, the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Based on my interpretation, a new country in the Middle East with a power hungry leader rose to challenge the other superpowers of the world; the pre-Docharian nation of the United States was one of them. Many revolts and attacks on large cities and crucial military bases belonging to the United States followed, until eventually the leader took over a place called Washington D.C.

I was searching for the next missing piece when I stumbled upon a picture printed in black and white on a page that looked very familiar.

A girl with pale skin, long light hair, and beautiful features smiled up on the page. I skimmed the article for a potential name and gasped when I found one.

Clarielle Fuller.

I read the article, gripping the pages tighter with each passing word.

"Clarielle Fuller, the president's youngest daughter, was kidnapped from the White House earlier this week. Investigators found her body disposed of in a lake just beyond a Dockaria-controlled base camp, a single bullet wound in her neck."

I threw the paper down and drew my knees to my chest. Was this a coincidence? A sick joke? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I still dreaming?

This couldn't be real. No way. Things like this don't happen in real life. Yet here I am, here is the evidence, time is not a fragment of my imagination.

I ran home. I didn't care who saw me or what they thought of the sight of me running. I ran, and didn't stop until I reached my home.

I barged through the door and slammed it shut, startling my parents. I immediately straightened up at the sight of them.

"Hello mother, hello father," I greeted, hoping to suppress the shake in my voice.

They eyed me suspiciously.

"Where have you been?" my father questioned. "You should've been home from school almost three hours ago." His tone was calm though he spoke louder than usual. I glanced over his shoulder at the government camera in the kitchen. The red light showed that it was on, and they were watching.

I struggled to find an excuse that wouldn't seem suspicious, but couldn't be proven either.

"I took a walk through the poles to clear my mind. Lesson was pretty stressful today." Not technically a lie.

My father nodded, and that was the end of it.

That night, I went about my evening routine as usual, pretending the cameras were nonexistent and that my thoughts matched those of an average, proper civilian.

That night, washed and dressed for sleep, I stole a cautious glance at the government camera in my room. The red light was on. They were watching.

My mind was driving me insane, but I couldn't do anything about it.

They were watching.

I closed my eyes and hoped I wouldn't dream.