“GAAAGGH!” cried Sam, running her long wrinkly fingers through her wispy gray hair, while tears streamed gallantly down her face, finally escaping their cold enclosure. “NOTHING’S CHANGED! Nothing’s changed.” She whispered in defeat. Slowly, she bent down into her tattered blue chair, feeling every bone in her body creak with the effort. Sobbing, Sam blindly grasped at the remote, and immediately wished she hadn’t. A mousetrap leapt up, and snatched her finger as if to pry the bone from its socket. “DAG NABBIT!” she screeched, and quickly detached her finger from the trap, which reluctantly released its prey from its mighty jaws. Exhaling in relief, Sam rubbed her finger until it seized its wailing.
Sam was not a young character, but wished every bone in her body that it would be. Every morning, at two a.m., Sam would fix herself a hearty breakfast of waffles and milk, and be up and ready to ride her bike to the edge of NeighborHood by four. No one knew exactly why, or how, she kept up her pace. Nowadays, anyone over the age of 300 usually sat around dozing off now and then, not really having a care in the world besides food and sleep. But yet in her old age Sam seemed to be stuck in world that consisted only of her, a young 350 year old patriot, and her plump Yorkie, (suitably named, Grace) a young puppy who was content with the large portions of wet cat food (which was supposed to be tuna fish and chicken, but often smelled of cow manure), and the constant love and care she received from Sam.
Sam steadily sunk deep into the soft pillows that cushioned her weary body. In the year 2020, government funded doctors came up with life support systems that would keep the old from dying, at least until the age of 500. No one knows how they came up with this machine, but we know now that its main purpose was not to help the U.S., but rather to insure that the president's power and wealth would last for at least another 450 years.
The government issued these devices to all Americans (and probably others) to keep them from realizing what they really needed the devices for. Then, in the year 2025, they finished it. The presidential contract was complete. Now known as the PPSL (the Presidential Policy of Secured Leadership) this law was supposed to secure our “great” president a life-long presidential term. No more elections, no more votes, worries, and greatest of all, no more crazy, overwhelming, de-PPL crowds. The PPL got rid of all of that. Now, the United States of America is an ignorant place, full of people living their lives like hooligans, saying, believing, that they will all get another chance. Believing that once they’re finished horsing around, they can get their lives back on track. Lies. All of them.
Sam sighed deeply, feeling the remnants of tonight’s dinner dance in her throat. She was due today. Nothing new, she had known this day would come all her life. Just not like this. Not so fast and painful. She would invite her family over today, to say one last farewell. Not as if they knew, or cared. They had no idea she would end her life today.
******
Moon cautiously crouched beneath a rickety old metal cot. Realizing how close he was to the mattress, Moon steadily crept out into the tiny room. Keeping his N180 Water Gun pressed firmly against his sweaty cheekbone, he analyzed the perimeter, taking in everything before him as if he were in a nerdy shoot-em-up movie. “Ewan, come and get me already!” Moon shouted. Dashing across the hall, Moon slammed his weight against a large wooden door. Feeling it budge, he was able to propel himself into the room without being hit crudely in the back by Ewan’s short stream of water. Moon softly closed and locked the entryway, feeling the satisfying click that meant refuge to his tired body.
Moons family had been called to a 350th birthday by, the one and only, Great, Great Great, Great Grandma. Reluctantly, everyone had dragged themselves out of bed, stumbled across the hall for some breakfast, and grudgingly made the two hour trek to Grandma’s house. No presents, no cake, no nothing. The only thing the Stemples brought with them was their overfed bodies and their “congratulations”. You see, the Stemples had already been to 90 of her birthday parties, and –if you want to go back generations- probably all 350 of them. No one understood why she kept them coming, but at least the Stemples had the dignity to show up.
Exhaling in relief, Moon felt the nip of a wintery air biting his nose. Slowly, Moon began to realize which room he was in. Or rather, which room was he in? Moon had never seen this area of Grandma’s house before; only another closed off secret in an even more conspiratorial house. Moon quietly lowered his water gun to the floor, and slowly gazed around the room. Everything else in Grandmas house had always been bleak and undesirable, but this room, this room was different. At least twenty different colors danced around on the walls, with shades that made you want to leap and sing, and other colors that made you want to sob and hold your dear ones close. One tall bunk bed rose up from its surroundings, prominent and truly proud of its everlasting job of rocking many generations of children gently to sleep.
“The carpet, oh my goodness, the carpet!” cried Moon, for the carpet carried the feeling of soft, carefully thread blankets on a cold winter night. Moon gradually worked his way towards the center of the room. There, among a shower of dried roses, stood one particularly strange wooden table. Its legs spiraled up from the ground as if to reach for the sky, but stopped short at the steady marble top that halted its climb. On top, sat a smooth wooden box, which looked like it had been felt and rubbed until its stories were no more.
“I see you have found my room.” Said a wavering voice.
Moon jumped back, startled. “Who---Oh, hi Grandma, um, am I not supposed to be in here?” said Moon, half wondering if she would lead him to the door even if he wasn’t allowed in.
“Not entirely…ah, here. Would you like to hear a story? “ She said as she gently lowered herself down to lean against the wall.
“You know I would!” Moon cried, and flung himself into her arms.
“Oof! Now settle down, or your mother will hear of this,” she whispered, her wavering breaths making it hard for Moon to concentrate.
“Now, let’s see, where to begin. Let’s start off with my room, seeing as you’ve found that part out already. I grew up in this room; in fact, I grew up in this very house.  This wonderful oaken bed was once mine, and I once shared this room with my ever-desperate sister. Mother and Father had never been too fond of children, and when Taavi and I showed up, they were not pleased. And when I say showed up, I mean that we literally showed up. I cannot remember how we got there, or who our real parents were (if we were even related). All I remember is waking up on an unkempt bed, and wondering how in the world I got here. Once we got older, fights began to ring out from the house like wedding bells, and often times we would find ourselves huddling on the bottom bunk, astonished at the world we lived in.
That’s when the machines were made. “Live a happier, fuller life!” they said, “Be free of the restrictions of old age!” Then pretty soon, everyone was getting them. If you were 16 years old, you were allowed to have one free ELA (Extended Life Apparatus) implanted into your arm.
“Not one year over, or under,” the attendants would say, “Aren’t you excited? This is a once in a lifetime deal you know!”
And we did know. Every 16 year old, everywhere, had one. If you hadn’t chosen to have one implanted, health care companies would force them upon you. At least for us, that was the case.
Then the real chaos began. The media had finally unveiled that the president had had an ELA implanted, making him the only person not 16 years of age with an implant. People all around the world became enraged and demanded the implants. The demands got so bad, that people would march up and down the streets, upturning cars and demolishing storefronts. Once the rioting had become a regular activity, the government sent out armed forces to keep the enraged people from escaping a confined area. But even that didn’t help. The riot police were then given the order to fire at anyone who was a threat, and they did so. Hundreds dropped dead every day, with newscasts showing rows and rows of lifeless bodies lying in clumps along deserted roads. Not that we needed the media to explain what was happening. We knew. Fear had struck a chord in every one of our hearts, and there was no way to fight back.
So, everything went silent. No more terrifying news reports, no more callous killings. Only broken families, and homeless refugees.
That’s when the dome went up. No one really noticed the change, spare Taavi and I. The same sky, the same weather almost every single day. The meteorologists knew, I’m sure, but they too were controlled by the government. Talk, and the government would be on your butt like a pack of wolves on a stray fawn. So it was just Taavi, me, and the government.
The dome surrounded all of United States, and made sure that no one could take away the president's power. How did they do this, without anyone noticing the difference? Just like the ELA, no one knows. All we know is that they had sealed us in. They had finally taken control of this land, and nothing would take that from them.
Except for me. Now that’s where the real story begins.