Imagine the future...

What do you see ? Do you see equality amongst everyone. Pure happiness within the soul. Do you hear the sound of laughter ? Do you think of the growth of mind and intellectual being. Advance technology. I guess there isn't one true answer , future means something different for everyone.

Everyone has one , a future , some better than others . I always had this idea that it was solely based on your story decision and what you've created if you wanted something badly enough you could get it yourself , most of your future planned. I've come to realize it's not just that , fate. it's something that has played a crucial key in my future.

I couldn't control it , it just happend. It's such an interesting thing. I dont regret any decisions I've made. I looked out across the rooftop. My vision slightly blurred from the rain falling. I felt his arms tugs against mine.

"Please don't hurt me." I cried as his grip around my arm tightened

Unwanted tears stained my face as I whimpered from his aggressive hold. I broke free from his grip but it wouldn't matter. I knew my fate already, the harsh wind whipped against my face blurring my vision.

This wasn't him. He would never try to hurt me; I refused to believe this was happening.

I was running out of time. The proximity of our bodies was suffocating. I let out shaky breaths onto his chest. This wasn't how i had imagined it, how i thought death would feel like. It was unreal to me , time had become this sort of this endless idea. Where a day lost well–it wouldn't seem so crucial. In everything.

"God can't save you now. " he hissed in my ear

I cowered in fear , what was i going to do , nothing. So i did what i do best and embraced the pain. if these were going to be my last moments I wanted nothing more than to be at peace. I imagine a better future...

[Four months earlier, in the year of 2230]

There was something so unbelievably hard about getting up in the mornings, if there were any way I could stay in my bed for eternity I'm sure I would've have found it.

My sheets clung to my sweat covered body, and I raked a free hand through tangled locks of hair as I remembered the particularly strange nightmare I've been having on and off for months now.

I huffed out a breath, "just a bad dream."

I was already uninterested in today's activities. My body was limp and slothful, unwillingly I pushed the covers back, "Please let today be a better day than the last." I whispered.

I heard my fathers voice calling for me, reluctantly I stepped outside of my bed, leaving the warmth behind me. I glanced out my window and saw how miserable it was outside.

It was down pouring; pounding a relentless rhythm against my window. The sky was darkened with clouds of black and gray, covering the city in a blanket of what looked of certain doom.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth before pulling my shoulder length dark hair in a ponytail. My lanky my arms slipped into a dark grey long-sleeved shirt over my head. Also, I had to throw out some crazy awkward moves to get myself into my favorite black jeans before finally settling on a pair of retro converse that I had bought in this old thrift shop.

Our society has been divided into two main groups, the Innate-organics, which were more or less people with a more natural minimalistic  life style and the Artificials.

The Artificials usually held  the political positions, and generally speaking are very rich. Although I've seen Innate-organics transition, and I've also seen people who should be organic relate to being an artificial. Usually if your born into an artificial family you stay that way, people usually don't like to give up power.

The organics make sure things run smoothly, they keep peace. Sometimes you can tell by appearance... Innate-organics usually wear natural, soft colors,  while the artificial wear harsh edgy colors like black and silver with metal accessories, only the finest of fine.

Although you can't always trust clothes, if someone's serious enough about the group they'll get their skin branded with the official seal.

I was one of the few who were born into a mixed family, my father fell hopelessly in love with my mother who was an organic. Everything about their relationship shouldn't have worked but their love was so strong. My dad always explained it like Romeo ad Juliet, he was forbidden to be with her but even his parents couldn't stop him.

I could never truly choose which one I could relate more to, lately I've been trying to address myself as more of an artificial. More so because of my father, not because I necessarily want to.

I think its due to the fact my mothers missing in the equation, when she was here I felt balanced, like I had a part of each of them in myself... now that she's gone its like a part of me is gone.

For good measure I added black spiked headband into my hair, it was a little obnoxious because of the intensity of the spikes and height but that's everything Articials wanted to be, bigger and better. Carefully I created thick black stripes over my eyes, trying to be as symmetric as possible.

A rush of cold air hit against my exposed skin making goosebumps rush to the surface like weeds, turning around I saw why. My window was cracked. It was odd, yet, I didn't make a big deal of it...things like that happened to me all the time. It's just the way it's always been, ever since I was a little girl.

I returned to my shoes and laced them up, walking down stairs. I greeted my father who was sat at the island, reading the newspaper. His fingers dipping a tea bag into his steaming cup.

His eyes, looked red and unusually droopy today, and I was sure he had worked long in the night, neglecting to sleep. Most of the time I tried to avoid his eyes because of the very pained expression they gave when he looked at me.

He used to say I looked just like my mother, 'beautiful and bright' with a wide smile on his face, as if it were a blessing that I took after her, only now it feels like a curse.

She died when I was seven years old, I don't know all the details surrounding the incident only that she was shot in the head. The bullet damaging tissue in her brain. By the grace of god somehow she managed to survive the bullet, but was considered brain dead. One night while in the hospital, she suffered a seizure and died in her sleep.

He doesn't speak about her anymore. He was devastated by her death as was I, only I didn't know her as long, she wasn't my soulmate. There was no way I could possibly understand my fathers depression.

Yes, he was devastated. He always gave me the attention I needed, trying to fill both the dad and mom role. There's an uneasy feeling of guilt that settles in the bottom of my stomach, I can't help but think his demeanor and lack of energy is because of all the things I require.

He looks so exhausted anymore.

My fingers worked vigorously to fasten all the accessories of my old black leather cloak, there were snap buckles from my chest to mid thigh. This cloak was easily one of my favorite things because of its durable and very water resistant material.

I also admired its sleekness, and the uncanny resemblance I had to a secret agent when it was fully fastened. My eyes scanned over the assorted fruit basket on the counter before picking out the plumpest apple I could find.

There it was, the steady rhythm of rain against the window in between the silence of our conversation. As I watched my father studied the newspaper intently I realized he hadn't responded.

"Anything new." I asked, a bite from my apple.

An obnoxious crunching sound could be heard from me as I took a few more bites from the apple, I wiped the juice from my mouth with the back of my hand.

"No, just some more advancements on the XGoid-3000, a few deaths of some scientist, and new fashion trends. Nothing important, how's IOAS going." he asked taking a sip of his coffee.

IOAS.

Instruction of academic success.

I found it to be completely unnecessary.

"oh of course, where learning is the future, and the future is learning." I said dramatically with my hands, "IOAS has been great, I'm in advanced honors because my grades are doing so well. I also have another art gallery soon." I said trying to spike more conversation.

He looked up from his newspaper. I've always been a talented artist. I get it from my mom apart from working for the government she was a professional artist on the side.

People would line up around the block just to see her work. I have all of her work that she didn't sell in my room. She used to teach me techniques and how to paint and draw from a young age. It was how we spent most of our time together. When I paint and draw I feel like I'm closer to her. It's how I express myself when I can't explain or talk.

"Really, that's great sweetie. I've been waiting a while, it's been weeks since the last gallery." he said smiling.

His smile seemed broken and disconnected. Almost like he wasn't completely together. For months after my mom's death he wouldn't really speak or talk to me. My memories of my mother and I are faint. Memories of my mother and father are blurry. All I remember is a lot of smiles, love and laughter. He doesn't laugh anymore, he definitely doesn't smile like he used to.

I feel horrible and guilty and I'm not even entirely sure why. I suppose it's because I can't make him smile like she did. That I'm not enough for him as a daughter. I miss her terribly, I miss my father too. The way he used to be.

"Hey!" my father said pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes." I said looking at him.

"I asked you when the gallery was. Are you alright?" he asked with a worried expression across his face.

I nodded my head giving him a small smile, "Oh I'm fine, just tired that's all, it's next Thursday 4-8. Do you think you can make it?" I asked sending him another reassuring smile.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he exclaimed taking another sip of his coffee."Maybe we can even go out for dinner tonight." he added looking at me.

I was shocked that he had even mentioned something like that. We don't even eat at the table together. The last time we ate together outside of the house was...was when my mom was alive. The thought of eating out with my father seemed like a blessing.

"I would really like that dad." I exclaimed wrapping my arms around him, as soon as he released me I took another bite of my apple.

I glanced at the clock and noticed I was running a bit late. Crap! I can't be late, I have two exams this morning. I took the unfinished apple and threw it in my backpack and kissed my father on the cheek, "Bye dad, gotta run love you!" I blurted through the mashed apple in my mouth.

"Love you more, I'll see you tonight sweetie." he said kissing my forehead and returning to the newspaper.

I turned back looking at my father once more not realizing this would be the last time I would see him again.

I usually went on the c-600train to get to IOAS because its hyper extended speed, but since I was running late I knew the trains were long gone. I moved my feet quick and swiftly against the wet pavements. The rain was coming down faster by the minute.

I grabbed the zipper that started at my right knee and pulled it across my body to my left shoulder blade, now there was no way I was getting wet; my cloak was doing a marvelous job keeping me dry.

I moved with the crowd, my feet in sync with theirs. Everyone wore blank expressions across their faces. I swear if it weren't for genders and features you could have mistaken them for robots. To think that human diversity is in the hands of people like me is a bit scary,

It's not that I don't think I can handle it... It's just I haven't seen any one like myself. I'm different than most girls my age, I'm more of a hybrid between the two groups, really I am. I also haven't received the symbol of linzx, basically a special skin indentation on the nape of your neck, like a branding, you receive when you turn eighteen.

I don't know...I just don't go with the crowd. It bothers me how people think they need to change themselves, to fit in with society. I suppose that's why I most of the time I was just getting by in the institution.

I mean how do they expect me to choose a group I don't even know, when I barely even know who I am. I have to choose who I want to be for the rest of my life at the age of eighteen, it seemed virtually impossible to me.

My grades are adequate enough, academically I'm pretty fine, in the top ten of my class. I could have been pretty okay social status wise, I just didn't really like the idea of changing myself. I've always had boy attention, but since

I wasn't exactly like the other girls they were always cautious to approach me. It sickens me how people are controlled by the government from the age eighteen until death. I know all of my rebelling and self expression will come to a halt on my eighteenth birthday.

My eighteenth birthday, it's been something I've been dreading for a long time. I'm seventeen, technically I'm not an adult yet. Therefore, I have the right to dress, act, speak, look, however I please. However, when I turn eighteen I'm all my self expression will come to an end. My constant in-between of the two groups, my meshing will all come to an end.

It's a way that the government knows they have control over us. It's not something I agree with, but I have no other choice, I've seen what happens when you go against them. People get punished, I'd rather not say what happens but it's a cruel world that I live in.

Sometimes when I have extra time, I spend hours in my school library. I read books about what America used to be like. That they actually would get tattoos on their body for fun. Tattoos are forbidden and are frowned upon in America today. We have curfew now, no one can walk the streets during between the hours of 8pm to 4am. In one book that I read people use to have rallies if they disagreed with the government. If anyone tried starting a rally now they would mysteriously "disappear".

I can't help but feel that I was born in the wrong era. I don't belong here, this place isn't for me. I can't hold back my feelings. I swatted at my wrist, tearing invisible chains from me. I know there is nothing restraining me but there will be. I know something's coming, whether its for me or not is the question. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't watch were I was walking.

I felt the hard impact of something cold send me to the ground off the curb and onto the street, I held my hand to my head that was throbbing. I frowned as my apple rolled onto the ground and near a gutter, I was gonna finish that."Damn it!" I muttered.

No seriously, like what the ****? I looked up and noticed it wasn't something I ran into but someone. It looked like a young man, I couldn't be sure because it was still dark and the figure was wearing a blue hoodie. I knew it was a guy because their stature was muscular and tall. I pulled my backpack higher on my shoulders. I was going to apologize for my careless attention, but when I looked up the figure was walking away.

I pulled my hand back and saw blood, "shit that hurt."

I found myself getting irritated, like you can't at least help someone up. I would have let it go but I was bleeding.  I picked myself off the ground and searched for the man. The rain made it difficult to see but I quickly spotted the blue hooded figure in the sea of gray. I noticed he was going in my direction so it's not like I wasn't walking towards school.

I walked a little faster  to catch up to him, my feet creating a different rhythm then the crowd. I kept my head high trying to locate the figure as I was getting swallowed up in the gray sea of people. I used my small figure to my advantage, I squeezed between others. I thought about giving up and going to school when I saw the blue hoodie, he was only a foot or two away.

"Hey stop!" I yelled still walking behind him quickly.

I noticed a few people stop and stare at me and him. He must of noticed to because he turned on his heels and quickly walked towards me. The few people who stopped carried on walking as if I didn't matter. I felt a little intimidated by the vast difference in our heights.

The first thing I noticed was his eyes and not their color, it was the way he was looking at me, wide and stunned- like he had seen a ghost.

They were dilated and narrowed in on my face seeming to study every feature. He jerked his head to the side. The rain came down in thick sheets, my eyes glanced up at a high speeding train, its pace sending a rumbling through the ground. I'm probably at least ten minutes late for first period, probably not my best decision.

"Hey asshole, if you didn't realize you kind of knocked me down." I fumed.

Pieces of my dark hair flew in front of me, and I looked at the metallic surface roaring above me, in a matter of seconds it was gone, like it never appeared. He looked calmer now less frazzled. His composure coming back to him as his eyes narrowed in on me once more.

"You're very persistent." he commented, completely ignoring my statement.

"Not really, just wanted to let you know that when you knocked me down. Well, I fell pretty hard and now I'm bleeding." I responded.

"Well hi to you too, you should watch your going next time." He noted, running a hand through his hair.

God he was arrogant, interesting, but very arrogant. "12 minutes late" scolded my subconscious.

"I'd like an apology please." I pressed, "This way you might come off better, might not look like such an asshole."

He laughed dryly at my remarks, "We'll I'm sorry miss. My mistake, it won't happen again." he apologized before turning away.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name." I called out.

"Yeah well I don't think we need to be on a first name basis, am I right? I mean I did apologized, now we can go our separate ways. But since you seem so infatuated..." he said coldly "people call me zero."

"Is that your real name, got a last one any chance ?" I asked with a tint of annoyance.

I was pretty sure zero wouldn't fly with hospital records. He looked around for a good while, I thought about just dropping the whole entire thing and just heading to the institution. I was probably about 18 minutes late, awesome, really that's nice.

"Listen, never-mind I have to go. I'm already really lat-"

"my real name is ...harry." He interrupted.

"Well thanks for making me bleed Harry, it was a real lovely encounter, really it was. Just what I needed to wake up, but I'm now almost...half way through my first block! So if you'll excuse me..."

He looked down at me, "and if I don't excuse you? Then what, you'll just have to stay and chat, right?"