I Am Alive

by Cameron Jace

  Bellona sits next to Leo, showing him her family photos, which she has popped out of her military wallet. I turn away and occupy myself with something else. I am surprised Shoegirl survived the dome. She believes that what happens to us is our destiny, and that it’s for the best interest of the nation. It turns out that Shoegirl’s real name is Pepper.

  “So what’s everyone’s story?” I ask.

  “We’re all Monsters.” Bellona sharpens the edges of her sword with a rock, now that Leo seems uninterested in her photos. Leo and a photo album? Are you kidding me? “That’s everyone’s story,” she says.

  “I am not,” I snap, but I wish I could take it back. Claiming I am not a Bad Kid might sound offensive. Besides, why would I expose myself? Who would believe me?

  “Is that what your iAm says?” Pepper is curious. “Because you don’t—”

  “Look like one?” I wish I could take this back too. Pepper is the least good-looking, the least educated, and the least enthusiastic. Her skin is covered with some sticky brown stuff, as if she hasn’t washed for years. She has yellow teeth, and her stiff hair looks like a broom’s bristles on top of her head. Plus the ear-to-ear dental bracing she wears. I feel for her in a world where she could be bullied and hurt repeatedly for wearing those.

  “You don’t behave like one,” remarks Bellona. “I saw what you did in the Breathing Dome.”

  Leo is silent and observant.

  “I think most of you don’t behave like Monsters,” Pepper elaborates.

  “How about Leo?” Bellona puts a slight smile on her face.

  “Leo is a Nine. We all know that,” intercepts Pepper, almost envious, chewing on jelly cola she has found in a dead kid’s pockets. She is not sharing with anyone. “I just don’t know why he is here with us.” She stares at him suspiciously.

  We look at Leo. We want to know, but he doesn’t flinch. He isn’t surprised or embarrassed, not showing the slightest need to explain himself. He glances at me for a second though. I am surprised, unable to interpret the meaning of that look.

  “He is exhausted,” says Bellona. “Let me tell you about us, the ones you call the skaters.” She addresses Pepper. Six of the eleven survivors are skaters.

  “Were you in the army?” asks Pepper.

  “Yes,” Bellona confirms. “We were ranked Sixes two years ago. After six months in the military, we found out what horrible things the Summit makes the soldiers do. We invaded cities outside Faya to conquer one more town, and add it to Prophet Xitler’s empire. We were ordered to kill women, children, execute and burn, without the right to ask why. All in the name of the Burning Man. They told us these people were our enemies, and that they threatened the survival of our nation, like Bad Kidz do.” I swallow hard. Did my dad do any of that? “The world outside Faya is mostly wastelands, all sand and dust. Still, there is something precious out there that Xitler is looking for. We just don’t know what.”

  “But the world outside isn’t like that,” objects Pepper. “I have seen it on TV. The world is so big. There are countries of different ethnicities on every continent. They watch our games, and pay highly for it. They have technology. Not necessarily like ours, but enough to let them watch the games.”

  “That’s the world beyond the oceans,” explains Bellona. “Faya is located in a continent that was once called North America. We occupy the west coast only. The rest of the continent is deserted and has a harsh climate. We’re not allowed out there. It’s called the Wastelands, and they never talk about it. This is where the real rebels are. Sometimes, they’d send us to the Wastelands to find certain people who the Summit are interested in. They seemed to be regular teens. We arrested them. The Summit tested them or something, and then we never heard about them again. Sixes and their families barely make a decent living. If you disobey orders as a soldier, you and your family get punished.” Bellona gazes into nowhere for a moment, as if daydreaming, as if she is seeing an invisible ghost. “We skaters are a faction of soldiers who refused to cooperate. We have decided to oppose and expose the Summit, but we couldn’t find help. Since everyone in Faya’s main concern is getting ranked, no one pays attention to such things. That’s when we heard about the Breakfast Club.”

  “You know about them?” Pepper sounds eager.

  “What is the Breakfast Club?” I ask.

  “The Breakfast Club is the revolution,” says Pepper. “They are our only hope. You could call them the real Bad Kidz. Prophet Xitler and the Summit are afraid of them. It’s rumored they live in the Wastelands.”

  “True. That’s why we were ordered to hunt them, and kill them and their families,” says Bellona. “They are led by a great leader who is as young as we are. They’re building an army of youngsters, real Bad Kidz, who want to unlearn the bad ideas and habits of Faya. They talk about things I have never even heard about.”

  “Selflessness, fearlessness, hope, abundance, strength, courage, loyalty, honor—” Pepper counts on her fingers. “I know a little about them. My brother was once arrested for downloading the Breakfast Club’s manifesto on his iAm.”

  I have underestimated Pepper. She knows a lot.

  “Bravery, unity, and belief,” Bellona continues. “There is much more actually. The bottom line is that they believe in a no-rank, no-Monster society. They know that Utopia is a lie.”

  “My brother used to say that they don’t live in the Wastelands,” says Pepper. “It’s just a rumor. In fact, it is said that their hideout is so clever, you wouldn’t figure it out.”

  “Sounds crazy,” I say. Leo screws up his face at my comment.

  “It’s not. They have inspired us to oppose the Summit. To say no to what we don’t believe is right,” says Bellona.

  “So were you punished and downgraded to Monsters?” asks Pepper.

  “Yes,” says Bellona. She doesn’t seem to regret it in any way.

  “You fools,” says Pepper.

  Bellona chuckles. “What’s with you, girlie? You sounded like you liked the idea seconds ago.”

  “I do, but I don’t like it when someone does something brave, and finds out it was only foolish. Either you have a real solution, or you stick to the system.”

  “We are no fools,” says Bellona. “Although we know we’ll probably die in here, a soldier dies with honor, standing, not on her knees, never ashamed, as long as she stands for what she believes is right. We know the Summit is an evil dictatorship. We believe that repeated actions of oppositions and uprisings will lead to salvation. Honestly, you don’t know how good it feels being here.” Bellona exchanges serene looks with the other skaters. “We will give ’em hell.”

  “That’s exactly why they call every sixteen-year-old under the rank of Five a Bad Kid,” a skater-friend of Bellona explains. “Because if the iAm ranks you low enough to cause trouble, you’re a threat to the Summit. The slightest hint of you being a teen capable of speaking your mind freely endangers the Summit’s existence. The iAm knows how to spot a rebel.”

  “Since you Sixes seem to know a lot…” Pepper picks up the jelly she spat out earlier. Yuck. “What’s Generation Z?”

  “Good question,” says Bellona. “You know the Old America ended with what we call the Great Disease, right? The Great Disease started as a war, a one-hundred-year-long war between the governments and Generation Z.”

  “Generation Z,” the boy follows, “was the last generation of youngsters before the Great Disease. They were born with the latest technologies around. They were smart, effective, and powerful. Most of all, they started opposing governments all over the world, using technologies similar to the iAm to communicate with each other. Generation Z changed everything in terms of taste in music, movies, arts, politics, free thinking, and free knowledge. Generation Z, in every country in the world, continued to be a major threat to the governments who claimed they were practicing something called democracy, which is just another disguise for a totalitarian system like ours.”

  "This world we live
in is based on Xitler's findings after the world ended,” Bellona catches on. “He found an endless amount of information about the past buried in what was called the Nevada Desert. It seemed as though someone in the Old America wanted to make sure that their history and civilization wasn't just going to vanish from the world, so they photographed, videotaped, and documented it, then buried them in the sand in hopes that someone would find them and restore this history. Xitler studied it and passed what he thought would benefit him in creating a new America, and omitted, forged, and changed what suited his system."

  "So all this we live in is an imitation of an old world smitten with Xitler's devious signature?" I ask.

  "Yes," the skater boy nods. "Take the Playa for example. It's a twisted version of a place called Disneyland, which existed in the same address in the Old America. To Xitler, it seemed like the perfect location for his deadly games."

  "And what does the Burning Man have to do with that?" I ask.

  "The Burning Man was more like an x-marks-the-spot for the location of the containers. Originally, the Burning Man was a festive occasion in the Old America. They celebrated freedom of expression. That's all. Whoever left the containers behind didn't just leave it as an effigy in a world that has been totally destructed. Xitler thought the Burning Man made a great God for his nation."

  “If he had all this information at hand, then why was controlling the nation with a ranking system so important?” I ask.

  “We’re not sure,” the boy said. “It looks like it's because of generation Z, the kids who eventually brought down Old America."

  “So basically Faya is a bad movie remake of a once-awful movie.” Pepper considers.

  “How does the Breakfast Club know all that?” I wonder.

  “It’s rumored that they had found the containers before the Xitlers,” the boy explains. “Only they couldn’t collect enough information before Xitler’s family and their army came and threatened to kill them.”

  “I suppose there is a reason why they’re called the Breakfast Club too.” I say.

  “Yes,” Bellona smiles. “It’s named after an old movie. One that will live forever.”

  “Was it about the Monsters?” Pepper wonders.

  “Kind of. It was a movie about teens like us.” The boy explains.

  I sigh for a moment, taking in the information. “I see. "So what happened next?” I ask.

  “What happened next is the story of the iAm itself.” says Bellona.

  21

  “The iAm was Generation Z’s idea,” Bellona says. “They started it for fun, using what they called smartphones at the time to self-quantify themselves.”

  “It was also called Body Hacking. Just the same as our iAm now,” says Roger This. I notice his t-shirt is too clean for a boy who fought for his life. “But then the applications started becoming more complex. The software started predicting unusual things, like how well the owner of the smartphone would do in his next exam in school, how long the owner was estimated to live, who the owner would fall in love with. Generation Z thought it was fun.”

  “Only the device was controlled individually by each member of Generation Z,” Bellona says. “Meaning that your data was private. You used it to tweak your body and mind the way you liked. It was a logical advancement in technology at the time. It was harmless until—”

  “Until the data was controlled and used by the government,” a skater boy says. “The governments thought: ‘What a magical device. We can control Generation Z with this device, by knowing everything about them. We don’t need surveillance anymore. We don’t even need to spend money on weapons of war. We practically own teens by knowing everything they do twenty-four-seven.’ And that was the end of the world. The end of democracy, freedom of speech, and everything. No one could do anything without the government knowing it. Everyone got spied on, and their future predicted—”

  “That is exactly the same world we live in now.” I remark.

  “So the Monsters are only an equivalent to Generation Z?” Pepper wonders. “The ones who didn’t want to submit blindly to the Summit?”

  The skaters nod.

  “That is definitely not me,” says Roger This. “I loved the Summit. The computer and internet games they make are so awesome. I am only here because I didn’t study or go to school, spending my time playing Zeragon 5, trying to become a top scorer.”

  “Are you for real, or just a figment of my imagination?” Pepper snarls at Roger This.

  Bellona laughs. “By the way,” she addresses me. “You did great in the Breathing Dome, and you saved my life.” She averts her eyes from mine. “Thank you,” she says, almost whispering. I understand that military teens should be saving others, so when I saved her, she felt a little awkward about it.

  “You’re welcome,” I say aloud. I saved somebody and they thanked me. This never happened to me before.

  “So can’t the Breakfast Club help us?” Pepper asks the skaters.

  “The Breakfast Club is hard to reach,” explains Bellona. “They don’t use iAms. They have gone through the dangerous operation of removing the receptor trackers from underneath their left ears. It’s said that some of them died in the process, and they don’t trust anybody easily.”

  Everybody falls silent. It seems the Breakfast Club is not the answer to our fears at the moment.

  “But how about the families of the members of the Breakfast club?” I wonder. “Weren’t they affected by their sons and daughters becoming members of the revolution?”

  Bellona swallows and gazes at the grass beneath her feet. “They had their parents clear their names,” she says.

  “What is that?” asks Pepper.

  “It means they are no longer considered sons and daughters to their parents,” I explain. Finally, something I know about. Clearing someone’s name means that you don’t belong to the family anymore. By doing this, your family will not be downgraded if you get a bad rank, and they are not responsible for you anymore. Also you’re not allowed to meet with them ever again. I know this because I’ve researched it before. I was going to use it, but you’re not allowed to clear your name if your father is a Six and served in the army. I don’t think that Woo cared enough about his father to clear his name.

  “You can do that?” Roger This asks. For the first time, he seems infuriated. He covers his face with his hands, letting out a strange noise, like the moaning of a cat.

  “What’s wrong?” Bellona asks him. Hell, even Leo turns his head.

  “I could have saved my family,” Roger This says. “I knew previously that I’d be outranked, because I am a game addict.”

  “No, you couldn’t have saved them,” I explain to him. “Only the parent of a ranked teen can do this. The parents have to approve.”

  Roger This removes his hands, raises his head, and looks at us. “That makes me feel better. A little. All day I’ve been thinking about what will happen to my parents. They are both Fives.”

  “They play games, too?” Leo asks him, wrapping his arms around his knees pressed to his chest. Of course, he is still holding the rifle. We all turn to Mr. Mysterious, finally speaking.

  “Yes,” Roger This says, a little intimidated by Leo.

  “Zeragon 5. Eh?” Leo mutters.

  “Yep.” Roger This nods.

  “Cool game.” Leo slaps a small insect crawling on his face. He doesn’t brush it away after it sticks to his flesh. Roger This winces. “I couldn’t figure out how to open the Dudgeon Dungeon,” Leo remarks.

  Dudgeon Dungeon? Bellona and I exchange open-mouthed looks.

  “That’s easy,” Roger This says. “You just pick the berries from the forest, give them to the Lady in Black, and she gives you the password.”

  “Password?” Leo wonders. “The Dudgeon’s gate opens with a password?”

  “Or you find the Rabbit Hole,” Roger This says.

  “Yeah? What’s up with all that hype about the Rabbit Hole?” Leo asks.

  Sud
denly, we’re all blocked out, watching the two most unlikely characters talk about the most unlikely subjects.

  “We shouldn’t talk about the Rabbit Hole.” Pepper says.

  “I heard about this Rabbit Hole thing,” says Bellona. “I mean, I don’t play computer games, but is this Rabbit Hole you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

  Roger This nods. He seems reluctant to say anything about the Rabbit Hole.

  “Why is this Rabbit Hole so important?” I ask.

  “It’s rumored that there is a way out of the Playa,” a skater boy explains. “It’s called the Rabbit Hole.”

  “Seriously?” I almost jump from my place. “So why aren’t we looking for it?” If this is true, and Woo survived, then he is already out of here. But if he is out, why didn’t he contact me?

  “It’s never been confirmed,” says Pepper. “Someone keeps sending secret messages and codes through the online games about the Rabbit Hole in the Playa. That’s about it. How do you not know about that? It’s like, an urban legend.” Again, I seem to be the only one ignorant of this.

  “Not just someone,” says Bellona. “It’s Wolf who sends the messages. We trust him.”

  “Who is Wolf?” I wonder.

  “The leader of the Breakfast Club,” the boy says. “It’s his nickname. He encourages teens to look for the Rabbit Hole. It’s a way out that even the Summit doesn’t know about.”

  “So seriously, why aren’t we looking?” I say.

  “Because we are going to face another deadly game tomorrow,” says Bellona. “And we’ll need all the sleep we can get now. We don’t have the time to look for a myth like that. Be real.”

  “Stop it, girls,” one of the skaters demands. He is heavily tattooed, and is lying on his back with his hand behind his head, chewing on some grass. I remember him. He is the one who left me behind on purpose in the Breathing Dome. Strangely, he has his name tattooed on his arm, under the Six: Orin.