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The Gouster (Current Working Title)
Author's note:
Short story based off of a book I'm writing
The bell rang at the end of third block, meaning it was the beginning of the lunch hour. I left the classroom with my old, blue computer bag, that I use to carry my things. I headed to the lunch line, which wasn’t very far from where I was coming from. Everyone moved out of my way to avoid me. There wasn’t a lunch line for me to wait in. This was due to no one being in the line.
Today, I ordered a Chicken and Bacon Ranch Melt from the line with Subway and completed the rest of my order on the iPad kiosk. The continuing through the line, I watched as my order was assembled by the mechanical arms. At the end of the line I grabbed my sandwich along with my Doritos and a sixteen ounce Sprite, while proceeding to swipe my lunch card through the scanner and left the line. I sat at my empty table and immediately the line I left was filled with students. It happens this is not unusual, it is actually routine. It happens and will continue to happen.
The reason being is that it is enforced by the school, society and the government. It’s enforced with fear and filling my peers’ heads with propaganda against people like me. This causes my alienation. They believe alienation will cause me and other Gousters to give in and cast aside our ways. When I say “our ways” I mean listening to music, watching movies, and playing video games.
All these things and other related activities are outlawed by the Ayer Acts. The Ayer Acts are enforced by the infamous secret police, the Jazz Police. Their original purpose was to arrest jazz musicians after the Stock Market Crash of 1929. The government eventually extended their hitlist to all musicians, directors and video game designers. Fortunately, hardly any have been caught since 1929.
The main source of arrests have come from those who indulge in illegal art, such as myself. Currently, I don’t have to attempt to evade the Jazz Police, because minors are exempt from the penalties of the Ayer Acts. However, we are eligible for dreamtime rehabilitation. I may discuss it in further detail later.
I finish my food and the replicant custodian collects my trash into the recyclables bin. All the adults here are replicants, which are bio-engineered synthetic humans. The government has it this way to ensure the obedience of the staff. After he left, I put in my earbuds in and plugged them into my Walkman. I took out Van Halen’s 1984 cassette album and replaced it with my mixtape. I close the cassette into my Walkman, then I press play and breath in.
The music began as I took the listing of the songs for Side A from its case, reading:
Side A
Let’s Dance - David Bowie
Jump - Van Halen
1999 - Prince
Fashion - David Bowie
Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
Rebel Yell - Billy Idol
I’m Afraid Of Americans - David Bowie
Kiss - Prince
Rockin’ After Midnight - Marvin Gaye
Hanging On The Telephone - Blondie
After I put the case back in my bag. While the chorus to Let’s Dance played, I started to look at the familiar strangers who made up my surroundings in the cafeteria. They looked happy, but I don’t understand how they all can stand to look similar. I mean they wear gray makeup, called shade, on any of their exposed skin. Then to go along with it there is the gray colored contacts and gray, black and white clothes and hair. It just makes the world and its inhabitants look painted into a black and white movie.
I turn back to my thoughts. I can’t focus on them for too long. It’s depressing to observe them. I still wonder if they watch at me… if they talk about me behind my back, like the jocks in the movies. It’s not like I’ve caught anyone looking at me.
I got up, after I reached the point where I had to walk. I shouldered my old computer bag and left the table. While making my way to the ramp, I noticed this feeling of being watched. The feeling of being watched not by the hidden cameras or the replicant staff. I was being watched by human eyes. As I passed by the girl watching me I caught a glimpse of her as she diverted her eyes away from me. I didn’t stop, I just kept walking. I felt her eyes turn back onto me.
After ascending the ramp, the ramp I turn back and she was gone. I continued walking and made it to a classroom in the back of the school. I put myself in the chair of one of the desks and exited the room to go to the bathroom further down the hallway. While I was walking a hand came to rest on my shoulder from behind. I turned around and saw it was her.
She whispered, “Can we talk somewhere where they won’t see us?”
Surprised I responded with, “Yeah.” We walked over to a corner where no one would notice us.
“You might not know me but I’m Kali. I’ve got a secret. I’m like you but I’m afraid to show it.”, she whispered.
“I’m John.”, I whispered back.
And that’s how I met Kali.
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