Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > The Rise and Fall of New America
The caretaker took me out of the kitchen, and I discovered upon walking out of the trailer was that it was actually one trailer, built on a park built of thousands of trailers. (The reason why they chose trailers is because all cars in New America had to be the same model, because no one could have a car that could outshine each other, because no one was really special except Martin Daredansen. Even Martin’s wife, Kelly Shmetya, couldn’t share his last name, because she could not share his power).
There were hills upon hills upon hills of just trailers. The trailers were prison cells composed of two people, they weren’t allowed out unless given permission by the caretaker. There was only one caretaker, which is the one I have talked about. The caretaker has several assistants to report things to her, but they have no power besides reporting things to her. The only time assistants could ever let us out was with permission at meal times, and during social hour after dinner. All dinners would be fed to us in our rooms. We could only socialize for one hour, and all the conversations would be monitored, in fear of exchanging ideas to overthrow New America. Finally, upon about seven minutes of straight walking; I approached my trailer: Trailer 73107. She opened the creaky iron door, and inside was a small man. Very pale, and small, like a little boy. He was almost feminine looking. He was sprawled out on the ground.
“Kole, this is Neil Tenexs. Neil, this is Kole Sopacan.” She said. Neil groaned, barely even looking up. He murmured a small, “hello”.
“I’ll leave you alone. Elsie will come and get you at dinnertime.” The caretaker said, and then left. Then, I noticed Neil had a huge barcode on his head.
“Why do you have a barcode on your head?” I asked.
“Everyone here has one. It’s so New America can keep track of us. You have one too.”
“I do?” I asked. “Where’s a mirror?”
“There are no mirrors, kid.” I felt my forehead, in hopes I would feel some kind of mark. Just smooth skin. But, I guess that would’ve been a problem if I could feel a tattoo.
Then, Neil rolled over. And that’s when I noticed how un-naturally skinny he was. I mean, I was average weight—maybe even a little overweight, but I knew he was acutely skinny. That was the second thing besides the barcode I first observed. But, it wasn’t like a skinny that looked natural. It looked like a sickly kind of skinny. I could tell he was sick, the way his stomach growled and the way his pupils were dilated. So, naturally, I asked.
“Are you sick?”
“Sort of.”
“Oh.” I said. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about. So, I used this time to observe my new living headquarters for however long. It was dingy, dark. There was one window, but a crème-colored sheet that looked like it was cemented onto the wall; although corners of it were drooping, so the sunlight could escape, sealed all the light coming out of it. The floor was a red-burgundy faded color. The walls were basically the same color, except for the wallpaper was peeling and it was more of a brown. There were coffee stains on the ceiling. It made me wonder if someone actually resided in it. I speculated that probably a family, three kids or four probably occupied it. Why I had come to this conclusion, I wasn’t sure…but it just felt…I don’t know.
I looked over to the left of Neil, and there were two bunk beds. An iron ladder hoisted up to the top one. The sheets on the mattresses were faded with urine stains.
I looked over to the right of Neil; there was a large iron door. I went to the door and tried to upon it, it was a struggle.
“Good luck with that.” Neil murmured. Finally, with a great amount of force, I opened it. It was a bathroom. A huge pipe was bursting from the ceiling. There were wires and pipes all over the place. The toilet appeared to be actually made out of concrete. The sink was metal. The window in the bathroom as well was covered by a crème-colored sheet, and like the other, corners of the sheet were drooping, so light could escape. A large, faded sheet covered up most of the bathroom. It was attached to a wring, so it was a shower curtain. It as well, had a very worn look to it; with plenty of coffee stains and it appeared to be white Spackle stains on it as well. Upon opening the curtain, the shower was well had a very mechanical look to it, as the rest of the trailer. There was one small shower spout. There was no showerhead. There were two faucets as well. But, the most fascinating part of the shower though, was the wall. It was made entirely out of cinderblocks. In the opening of the cinderblocks, it was filled with cement. It was a poor excuse for a wall. The whole worn look of the building reflected the disparity of the state of the world in its current situation with New America. A trailer, something that used to be a home and a place of comfort for someone—although certainly had its faults, I’m sure, was turned into a prison cell. And a prison cell doesn’t work for anyone.
There were hills upon hills upon hills of just trailers. The trailers were prison cells composed of two people, they weren’t allowed out unless given permission by the caretaker. There was only one caretaker, which is the one I have talked about. The caretaker has several assistants to report things to her, but they have no power besides reporting things to her. The only time assistants could ever let us out was with permission at meal times, and during social hour after dinner. All dinners would be fed to us in our rooms. We could only socialize for one hour, and all the conversations would be monitored, in fear of exchanging ideas to overthrow New America. Finally, upon about seven minutes of straight walking; I approached my trailer: Trailer 73107. She opened the creaky iron door, and inside was a small man. Very pale, and small, like a little boy. He was almost feminine looking. He was sprawled out on the ground.
“Kole, this is Neil Tenexs. Neil, this is Kole Sopacan.” She said. Neil groaned, barely even looking up. He murmured a small, “hello”.
“I’ll leave you alone. Elsie will come and get you at dinnertime.” The caretaker said, and then left. Then, I noticed Neil had a huge barcode on his head.
“Why do you have a barcode on your head?” I asked.
“Everyone here has one. It’s so New America can keep track of us. You have one too.”
“I do?” I asked. “Where’s a mirror?”
“There are no mirrors, kid.” I felt my forehead, in hopes I would feel some kind of mark. Just smooth skin. But, I guess that would’ve been a problem if I could feel a tattoo.
Then, Neil rolled over. And that’s when I noticed how un-naturally skinny he was. I mean, I was average weight—maybe even a little overweight, but I knew he was acutely skinny. That was the second thing besides the barcode I first observed. But, it wasn’t like a skinny that looked natural. It looked like a sickly kind of skinny. I could tell he was sick, the way his stomach growled and the way his pupils were dilated. So, naturally, I asked.
“Are you sick?”
“Sort of.”
“Oh.” I said. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about. So, I used this time to observe my new living headquarters for however long. It was dingy, dark. There was one window, but a crème-colored sheet that looked like it was cemented onto the wall; although corners of it were drooping, so the sunlight could escape, sealed all the light coming out of it. The floor was a red-burgundy faded color. The walls were basically the same color, except for the wallpaper was peeling and it was more of a brown. There were coffee stains on the ceiling. It made me wonder if someone actually resided in it. I speculated that probably a family, three kids or four probably occupied it. Why I had come to this conclusion, I wasn’t sure…but it just felt…I don’t know.
I looked over to the left of Neil, and there were two bunk beds. An iron ladder hoisted up to the top one. The sheets on the mattresses were faded with urine stains.
I looked over to the right of Neil; there was a large iron door. I went to the door and tried to upon it, it was a struggle.
“Good luck with that.” Neil murmured. Finally, with a great amount of force, I opened it. It was a bathroom. A huge pipe was bursting from the ceiling. There were wires and pipes all over the place. The toilet appeared to be actually made out of concrete. The sink was metal. The window in the bathroom as well was covered by a crème-colored sheet, and like the other, corners of the sheet were drooping, so light could escape. A large, faded sheet covered up most of the bathroom. It was attached to a wring, so it was a shower curtain. It as well, had a very worn look to it; with plenty of coffee stains and it appeared to be white Spackle stains on it as well. Upon opening the curtain, the shower was well had a very mechanical look to it, as the rest of the trailer. There was one small shower spout. There was no showerhead. There were two faucets as well. But, the most fascinating part of the shower though, was the wall. It was made entirely out of cinderblocks. In the opening of the cinderblocks, it was filled with cement. It was a poor excuse for a wall. The whole worn look of the building reflected the disparity of the state of the world in its current situation with New America. A trailer, something that used to be a home and a place of comfort for someone—although certainly had its faults, I’m sure, was turned into a prison cell. And a prison cell doesn’t work for anyone.
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