Shorts smartworld

The Liberation

Where, following the war that started when they were a small child, Citizen 1,498,382 reflects upon those days that came to define them. The days when YutopiCorp’s forces landed in her homeland and liberated her—and her entire country—from the tyranny of political rule.

[16 September, 2135 | Thursday]

“Officer Cas,” Commander Rull said, “You are now cleared for active duty.”

‘Cas.’ Used as both my given name and my surname. It had been that way for a year, since the day I received my enhancements. Once upon a time, I had a given name, a middle name, and a surname. But now, I was just Cas: an Officer for the City, but that didn’t change the fact that I was born under Canadian rule. That I was born to Canadian parents.

My educators, and then my superior officers, all made it clear that my heritage isn’t a negative, per se. I spent my formative years under political rule, under a system where the corrupt political class put themselves above the masses. Society indoctrinated me into accepting that. My parents had taught me that is the way we should live. Because that was the system. 

As much as my heritage isn’t some terrible thing to be ashamed of, my parents’ wasn’t, either. They, too, had been indoctrinated, just as their parents had before them, and their parents’ parents. That brainwashing went on for generations; the only difference is they weren’t lucky enough to have the City liberate them as children. When they were young enough to learn better, to accept the truth. No, when the City arrived, they had spent their entire lives being further indoctrinated into believing that a corrupt system named “democracy” was in any way democratic. Unfortunately, which is the way for so many others, the City was too late to show them the light.

Their heritage wasn’t their fault. Their viewpoints weren’t their fault, either. But those viewpoints are symptoms of a disease the City fought hard to eradicate, and, as I had been informed, my parents met their fates. What, exactly, those fates were, had been hidden from me, along with anything more than hazy recollections. And so, too, was my name. As my educators and commanding officers explained to me, to know who my parents are poses a threat. To feel that connection once more could corrupt me, could pull me from the righteous path I walk.

And on the day of my nineteenth birthday, following a year of training, I was finally able to start walking down my righteous path.

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