Prologue
MALE NEWS REPORTER I
A group, known as the Fatalities has officially become our first successful form of government to gain world domination. After close to a decade in the making, the United States has become the final country to join the Fatalities.
FEMALE REPORTER I
The US is the new Central Command Station for the entire Fatality System. If accepted, citizens will be given their pennies tomorrow and must keep them the duration of their life. Any child born after will also be examined and assigned a penny.
MALE REPORTER II
Central Command has bought all major forms of business, sending former owners and employees plummeting into poverty.
FEMALE NEWS REPORTER I
Security upgrades are complete. No public access on or off Nantucket Island will be permitted.
Chapter One: The Dull Day
Rain poured; allowing for water to drench the red velvet curtain. Brixton and his mother neglected to patch up the crack in the bay window. For years it went overlooked. A light drizzle here and there didn’t affect them. Only the occasional downfall like today brought attention to the heavy drape. Brixton watched as the water spot grew larger and larger. He hated that curtain. It blocked out not only the sun but all of civilization. Not to mention, it was about five feet longer than it needed to be. The excess fabric sat crumpled on the floor causing a tripping hazard that Brixton fell for almost every time he came near the window. The five extra feet did come in good use today though. He used the massive wine-colored velvet as a dam to prevent it from soaking the window seat. As he dabbed up the escaping puddle he wondered.
How powerful can thoughts be? Thoughts are like the wind; just as invisible. Yet they can embrace any amount of turmoil. Both can destroy everything. A single thought can take control and rule a nation. One thought put in the mind of an innocent person can ruin it forever. One spark can lead to a great fire in a dry forest.
He drew back the curtain and peeked outside.
“Nobody. Good.”
He opened the drapes up even further. There wasn’t as much to worry about when nobody was outside. Finally, he could feel like he wasn’t hiding something.
No matter what they did, the people in the Court were always hiding. Hiding from Fatalities. Hiding from their past. Or even from their doomed future. To be overlooked was a good thing. He watched a stream of water make its way through the cracks of the cobblestone streets like a giant maze. It winded to the left for a bit then changed course completely and took a sharp right.
What of memories? They are like those streets. Over time they fade with wear. Each stone also locked into place forever embracing new characters. If told right, a memory will carry on in the stories read generation after generation.
Both of these things, thoughts and memories, were so strong and so pliable at the same time. Brixton shuttered to think about the fragile position anyone would be in if they crossed with a Fatal.
The warmth of his house and the window seat soothed him and carried him out of his thoughts. This particular spot became his favorite area in the entire house to sit in spite of his mother’s requests not to do so. Pillows stuffed with feathers made this the place he could relax in his tattered WWI army jacket and read.
Sonu, Brixton’s mom, bought it for his birthday two years ago. He hadn’t taken it off in the apartment since. Only when he went outside did he leave it hanging on the coat rack. As soon as Brixton came back in, though, he wrapped the history around him again. Some of the pockets had holes, but he didn’t mind. He liked to imagine that a soldier wore the fabric out in it from heavy grenades.
His hair fell on the collar of the jacket just enough to cover it. At one point, his hair was a light blonde. Each year it lost its yellow hue and turned more to a hazelnut brown. He could barely see the blonde anymore. He swiped his bangs across his face. That part was annoying about having long hair. He was constantly pushing it out of his eyes. On some days it felt like he had a constant twitch.
Maybe I’m the exception to aging. Instead of getting lighter and turning gray, my hair will be like a raven’s feathers by the time it finishes getting darker.
“Be jealous ladies,” Brixton said to nobody in particular.
Although a haircut sounded good, Brixton chose to keep it. Other boys his age grew their hair out. He wasn’t one to follow in pursuit of the latest fashion trends but with the hair, girls swooned all over the other guys on a daily basis. Of course they were better looking. Brixton liked to think of himself as an average teenage boy with glasses and a medium-build body.
At least I’m not too skinny like some of the other guys. He thought. I’ve got some definition. He flexed in the reflection from the window.
“I could definitely be a soldier.”
He kicked off his worn out shoe and lifted up the inside sole of it. A penny flipped out into his hand.
“What do you think? Am I destined to be a big “war hero”?”
The penny given to him at birth said 1880. 1880? Eh, an okay year from what he read in history books. Not that he could find anyway. The only thing of particular interest was the place he was named after. His mom found a city in the same history books and named him after a district in London.
Nothing much happened in Brixton. Electric Avenue turned into the first market street to beam electricity to the area in 1880. Sonu told him that one day he too would bring light back to the world. She probably said this out of electricity deprivation. They hadn’t had the convenience of a light switch since he was a baby. Everywhere else did. But not Sonu. She said it would bring too much attention to them. That and she refused to support anything that had to do with the Fatalities. Since they owned the electric company, the gas company, the water plant and everything else in the Court, he and his mother had to resort to doing things that she liked to call, “the old fashioned way”.
He imagined some sort of superhero there to save the day. “I am here to bring light into the world!” Superheroes paraded around in his imagination all the time when he was smaller. He defeated the powerful Fatals and ended the madness for all.
As a teenager, his world remained the same boring place. The superheroes were replaced with reality. He knew superheroes never even existed. They didn’t even live remotely close to England anyway. Why did she name him after a place she never traveled to?
Nevertheless, he kept the penny safe in a hidden compartment in the sole of his shoe.
I wish my penny could be just thirty years older, Brixton thought. I could really make a difference with a penny like that.
War fascinated him. Maybe because there hadn’t been a full out battle for a couple of decades. Some uprisings here and there but not to the extent of tanks, armor and the good stuff he liked. The Fatalities’ idea to end all conflicts actually worked.
They became the first form of government to gain world domination. Complete control took close to ten years to accomplish; the United States being the last to agree. Since they were the last, immigrants poured into the country.
