City of Sanctuary

A.D 2049

Day 1

Beep! Beep! Beep! I raise my lifeless hand to silence the alarm on my phone. It thumps around the nightstand for some time before reaching its mark.

Turning on my ancient iPhone requires several taps, and once it turns on, I check the WCM (World Coronavirus Map). Blobs of red dot the map, but a marker-which marks my location-in the middle of a clearing brightens up my face.

“Excellent,” I mutter.

No new cases nearby. I head on downstairs, feeling privileged to be alive for another day. 

The rest of the family is already there by the time I get down. I pull a bowl of cereal towards me and start scarfing it down. It's one of the government products, so the milk and cereal are genetically engineered. I gulp down a cup of water after to get rid of the sour taste of the milk.

While I get my things ready for school, I look around at the family.

My younger brother, Lucas, stares into a blank space in front of him, still a sleepyhead. 

Mom and Dad chatter to each other about their work and seem to be lost in another world. 

"Mom!"

They keep chattering. 

"Dad!"

They finally look at me, their conversation halting. 

“Can we go out tonight?” I ask my dad, “It’s been a while.”

“Sure! Why not?”

After breakfast, we all head into our Virtual Rooms, mom and dad ready for work, my brother Lucas and I for school. 

My system boots up, with the usual, chirpy, “Good Morning, Ethan Ace!” I appear in my school, and I use my joystick to navigate the whitewashed corridors. 

I head to my day's classes, getting cozy in my HoverChair. 

The classes are tedious, just like every day before today. My eyes droop involuntarily, and I snore off into a deep slumber. 

"Ethan! Ethan! 

"Huh?" My science teacher's face fills up my 100-inch screen, startling me awake. She probably saw me nodding off in my sleep on my webcam. 

"How many airlocks does The City Of Sanctuary have?

"Umm... 17?"

"18!" She says sternly. “We’ve been talking about this for the past week!” she says, and then rolls her eyes.

She resumes her lecture, and I do my best not to nod off again.

After school, dad keeps his promise, by taking us on a virtual walkthrough of New York City, my favorite virtual city. The physical New York City still exists, but no one dares to go there, not when it's overrun by the infected.

Later that night, I lay down on my bed, staring through the only window in my room. All windows are mounted on the roof, not the walls, as nobody wants to see the infected people and animals outside. They roam around in packs, trying to infect others and those foolish enough to find themselves outside.

So every night, I stare up into the sky observing the twinkling stars.

The only thing worth seeing in the sky other than the bright stars is the City of Sanctuary, hanging there suspended in space. You can see the workers up there, working on it day and night. After all, it is the future of humanity. And our last hope. 

Tired, I then open a history book on my electronic reader that we have to read every day for school. 

“In a world plagued by the coronavirus, no one is safe. Beginning in 2020, it took hold of humans by the hundred thousand, then by millions, and then by billions. Later, it even affected animals, killing off billions. And now, only a few survive, evading the virus. But we do not lose all hope!” 

I exit out of the book, knowing what comes next by heart.

“President Drent and the rest of the world have proposed the New Solution, the solution for the survival of humanity. The population of humanity and many animals will move to The City of Sanctuary, where everything will be virus-free. Earth will then be ‘cleansed’ by cleaning out everything and eradicating the virus. Humans will then ‘start over’ carefree.” I repeat from memory in a monotone voice.

We’ve been constantly preached about the New Solution, and now it is drilled into our minds as the last hope. And my family is privileged, being able to live. 

"Good night," My parents' voices say over the house intercom, a few seconds after I recite the last sentence of the New Solution.

"Good night," I reply. Before I fall asleep, I think about what life must have been like in the past. 

When parents used to physically say goodnight to their kids. 

When the world wasn't ravaged by the virus.

When we used to go to school in person.

When we weren't holed up in our homes. 

When the human population was thriving, not dying off in the millions every day.

When people other than family would hug and shake hands, and have parties and get-togethers.

When the City of Sanctuary did not exist.

Day 2

The next morning begins like the last, except this time I wish for a new phone, no matter how absurd that sounds. The only phones in production are government phones and are only available to government employees like my dad. Companies like Apple and Samsung are completely extinct, and only a few of their phones still exist. I yawn, thinking this day will be like any other, unaware of what was going to happen. 

As usual, we eat breakfast and head to the Virtual Rooms. I log in, ready for another day at school. After the chirpy good morning, I appear in my school, trying to muster some energy for today’s classes. 

As usual, the day is filled with the droning voices of the teachers. They go on and on, about the City of Sanctuary and how the government is the greatest. I decide to close my eyes for the rest of the day.

After the school day ends, I then shut down my monitor and head to the family room. While I sit there watching an animated TV show, I wonder again if this is what life used to be like back then, before falling asleep.

Day 3

The day passes with the same routine, so in the evening, feeling restless, I power on the simulator, wanting to take an evening stroll. I set it to an eye-opening garden, with rich shades of colors. I jog through the park, enjoying how it’s set to my preferences: Not too many people, but a few so I don’t feel lonely. My favorite brand of sneakers, making me feel like I’m floating on a blanket of air. A spotless path, with primed shrubs along the sides. 

The government invests a lot of money in technology like this, to help us cope with not being able to go outside. Nobody’s been outside in the past 30 or so years, to avoid being infected and seeing the horrors out there. This is the closest we have to going outside. I shudder, thinking about the outside. There’s a reason that nobody wants to head there, into the unknown where no self-respecting has been in years. 

I yawn, tired of the simulator. So I shut it down and head to dinner. 

That night passed like any other night.

I always look up into the sky, at the Sanctuary, and watch it steadily grow in size at night. Although it is a dot in the sky, it’s capable of holding the planet’s population, a large 5 million.

Looking at the twinkling sky reminds me of my grandfather, the scorn of our family. He was alive when the virus hit the world, and he used to tell me the tall tales of life back then when I was young. I never used to believe him, and always used to look forward to his funny stories through a video call. That was until he went berserk, running out into the wild. It wasn’t an uncommon story; much of the older generation thought living like this was wrong, and they decided to go wild, leaving the sanctuary of their homes. I still miss him, and I wish I could talk to him now, especially when I’m having doubts about what life used to be like. 

Day 4

Days pass, maintaining a regular lifestyle. 

I continue to read about the wars of the previous decades in school textbooks, which portray the world before as a warzone where nobody used to be safe. 

It conflicts with my grandfather’s words, and curiosity gets the better of me. 

Questioning my teachers leads to nothing, as they all ignore me or warn me not to ask such questions. What lies are we being fed?

Frustrated, I search online: “What was life like before the Coronavirus?”

Only five results pop up on the page, and all of them are links to government websites, reassuring me about life back then was just like life now. 

I then realize the browser I use is a government one and is censored to supposedly “protect citizens.” 

I once again rack my brains, but this time on how to get a hold of a non-government browser, but come up with nothing. 

Day 5-6

I keep my eyes peeled over the next few days, looking for somebody who can get me a non-government browser. 

Finally, I find the place. School. 

There’s a gang that lurks in the shadows of our school and the rumor is that they deal with illegal activities. 

I don’t know why I’m so eager to find out what life was like before. But not knowing what spurs me to go to them, I head into the gang’s lair one day after school. 

Day 7

The inside of their hangout, which is the basement of our school, is bathed in a blue glow. Funny. A world of electronics inside a virtual world. I can’t tell what's real anymore; rows of monitors stare at me, their CPU’s whirring and whining. 

A group of ten or so kids are gathered around a large monitor, pointing and looking at lines of code.

“Hello?” I yell. 

They all freeze and stare at me, dumbfounded by the visitor.

“Can I help you?” Says a girl, coming forward. I can’t see her that well, but the blue glow cast from the computers makes her face look translucent.

“Yeah… I need a non-government browser.”

Her eyebrows rise, and then she waves to the others, who get back to their show.

She motions me over to a 10-foot-long rack of DVD’s, which would be a field day for the government department of illegal softwares.

“Choose. They all do the same thing,” she  says.

I look over them and read the labels. Internet explorer. Google. Firefox. Safari. The DVD’s go on and on. 

After looking all over them, I choose Google, pay them, and leave. Back into the physical world. 

I transfer the software into a physical disk, I insert it and open up the software. The homepage looks like a clean slate, unlike my government browser, which boasts government propaganda.

As I get accustomed to the software, a voice startles me. 

“Good night,” my parents say. 

“Good night,” I reply.

I decide to shut down the monitor, remove the disk, and hide it under my bed. 

I spend the rest of the next day observant, wondering if anybody looks at me suspiciously for my illegal activities.

At night, I once again open up the software, ready to search. 

“What was life like before?” I type. 

To my surprise, billions of search results pop up. 

I rub my hands, ready to have a field day.

Day 8

The next day I miss school, probably because I went to sleep one hour before it started. 

However, school doesn’t matter anymore. Well, nothing does. 

I spent all night researching, watching videos, looking at pictures, and reading about what life used to be like. 

Kids used to play outside. 

School used to be attended in person. 

When we didn’t use technology so much. 

The list goes on and on. LIfe just used to be so different. 

I want to live life like how it used to be.

I freshen up and get ready to attend the last hours of school. 

I spend the rest of the school day just thinking about what I read last night and observing during the school day. All I think about is going back on Google. It’s maturing into an addiction.

That night, when I head back on Google, the software doesn’t open. All I see is a message that reads, “Illegal software: Punishable if opened.” 

My eyebrows crease and beads of sweat gather at my forehead. The computer probably recognized the software… and probably hinted to the government about it. 

Sweat begins to roll down my body, making me shiver. They could notify my father anytime now. I could be Banished anytime. That makes me shiver again. I pray that I won’t be Banished into the wild. Being Banished is the worst that that could happen to a person.

I quickly close the computer, as if that’s going to help me. 

I lie down in bed, my heart shaking the wooden frame. What do I do now? Come clean? Accept my doom without defending myself? Or… run away?

These three options echo in my mind until I fall asleep.

Day 9

The next morning I wake up, and I spend every moment waiting for the government to show up or be Banished. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but does dad look at me peculiarly? 

I’m in turmoil in school, too.  I imagine sounds and glares. And I think. And think. What should I do?

By the end of the day, I reach a decision. One that will change my life and my future. I take a deep breath and think about it. 

I need to run away. 

We just ate dinner, and everybody’s in their rooms now. But mom and dad might still be awake. I have to sneak out at midnight and be as quiet as possible. 

But first, I have to get some supplies ready. I grab a bag and head out to the kitchen, and rummage it to find some sealed foods. I grab some toiletries and a flashlight. I try to keep it light, as I’m going to be traveling. 

But, after all, these are all my assumptions. Who knows what it’s like out there?

Finally, with my bag under my bed, I lay down to get some sleep before I leave. 

Day 10

I wake up before the sun rises, to a bad dream of the government seizing me. I guess I’m a fugitive now. A lot has changed in the past 10 days.

I grab the bag and creep out of my room. Before I head to the airlock, I find myself heading to my brother’s room to look at him once more. There he is, sleeping soundly with his rhythmic snoring. 

My legs carry me to my parents’ bedroom, and I halt as I reach the landing. The bask of a light creeps into the hallway from under the door. I hear my mom’s voice, and I creep closer. 

“What? What do you mean? How could he do that?”

“Teenagers these days. They get ahold of things in the most ingenious ways possible. The government mentioned the search engine was Google.” Dad replies.

“Oh my god! Google? This is a disgrace! We could lose our job! Ethan must be banished immediately.”

My eyes widen in surprise. They know. 

“Yeah. He’s asleep. I’ll go get him now.”

I feel the dread creeping up on me. I thunder down the stairs, speed more important than sound. I grab the bag and head to the airlock, praying that I go through the right door. Why didn’t I check that before?

I hear my father’s thundering footsteps behind me, with his yells to stop, as if I can plead for mercy from him. 

I head through a doorway and lock the door behind me. I then slam my body back against the door to prevent it from opening to my father’s large frame. 

His body thuds against the door, but it holds. 

While he slams his body at the door again, I survey the room I’m in. On one side of the wall are some spacesuits, gathering dust. I guess you need them when you go outside. I quickly take one that looks my size and put it on. It fits snugly, and I instantly feel all airflow to my body from outside cut off. I’m sealed in my cocoon, probably to keep me protected from the virus. I hope that the seal holds and that I followed all the steps to putting on the suit right.

Right across from the suits is an airlock, which, just like the suits, a fine layer of dust has gathered on its exterior. Following the instructions on the airlock, I pull a lever which in turn opens the door closer to me. I go inside and lock it behind me.

Meanwhile, my father’s thumps persist on the door. I also hear my mother’s voice. 

Now, the thought of life outside wraps my brain. What will it be like? 

Well, only one way to find out. I make sure that my suit is tight and the airlock is ready to go. 

Right before I pull the lever to release the outer door, I hear a huge bang behind me. I look back and I see the door on the ground, creating plumes of dust. My parents storm into the room, and they yell at me to open the door to them. 

But I turn around. I see anger on their faces, not sadness or grief. They don’t love me now.

I need to discard my old life. Start fresh and anew. Venture to a new world. And so I pull the switch to outside.