Post a brief story of a citizen of your country, exposing the way that individuals live their lives and their attitudes towards things.

It was four years since Sinda was last in mainland Gemetria. She was primarily a consultant in Gemetria’s Middle Eastern colony, rebuilding the economy of the region ever since Gemetria’s armies shattered their cities and turned their deserts to glass. Deep holes were bored into the mountains in the ruined city that used to be Tabriz, as the Tullius Mineral Extraction Companies fat fingers fumbled towards the rich veins of uranium that lay waiting in the earth. She was a geologist, and was the eyes for these blind machines, these eyeless steel behemoths.

Four years. Her plane landed in the Southern Dis hive, and she took the Black Line train over the slums on elevated tracks. The train was so fast that she couldn’t see the buildings underneath; it was just a brown blur. Sinda was headed towards the Central hive, with its spires that reached over a kilometer into the sky, defying God’s will. She would soon pass through the Snake Gates, and into the hive itself. From there she would take the 4D23-Green line down to the Tullius building at Frontenac Alpha, Dominion Beta, and Thect Gamma , in Dis’s tri-street nomenclature. This was nearly four thousand meters below street-level. She hated working there, as heat from the earth’s core made walking the claustrophobia inducing streets insufferably hot. All the light was artificial, and there was no way to tell what time or even what season it was. The first three weeks were the worst, as your body gradually adjusted to the twenty-six hour day that it naturally adapts to without light cues. Three weeks of chronic insomnia as you go through what Disinites call “hive-lag”.

The Central Hive was already visible, despite the fact that it would still take two hours to pass through its massive concrete walls. The tower stood, appearing out of the poisonous black mist that covered the ground, disappearing into the angry grey clouds above. “Coffee? Juice? Wine? Coffee? Juice? Wi… Thank you.” The stewardess smiled brightly, a little ivory doll with a false face. Sinda paid for her wine, a sulphurous number from Gemetria’s south. She realize with a note of horror that she was being treated like an auslander- politely, but with searing xenophobic hatred boiling under the surface of their unblemished bone white faces. She turned around, and realizes uncomfortably that as she turned eyes quickly darted back to newspapers and TV screens. They had been watching. What was it that pointed her out? Her tan? Her hair cut? Her clothing? All hopelessly out of fashion. She now knew that she had the mark of an auslander on her… Until she was able to scrub the mark off, she would be shunned, politely. Given outsider prices, starred at, gossiped about, possibly even detained by the Ordo Anshanti for “questioning” if she ever strayed off major streets.

She sighed. She would get home, draw a bath, and call her friend Gwyth. Gwyth worked for Hlyus, a marketing company. She would know where to go to buy new clothes. Her slang was also likely out of date, so she would just remain quiet for the next couple of weeks until she reabsorbed the culture. Use the hive-lag to her advantage to watch as much TV as possible- she was also going to have to ask Gwyth about which shows where being watched these days. This next month will be a nightmare.

Erica Hitchcock sat on the wooden bench and stared into her locker from behind her goalie mask. Her teammates laughed and joked asround her, but she did not hear them as she was was focused on the same thing she had been focused on for five long years--what had gotten her here in the first place.

Despite growing up in a hockey-crazed country, she had never really considered playing professionally in the Redundancian Hockey League. Like most people, she played in high school and in college, taking a year's sabbatical when she had her daughter. Unlike most people, she was very good--but her original career choice was something a bit more noble.

She thought back to the night her life changed forever. She was a fresh-faced rookie cop, not out of the police academy more than six months, when a perp's bullet came a little too close to her heart. The masterful surgeons had extracted it without incident, but for the first time in her life, she was scared--and not for the reasons she thought she would be.

"I know how close I came to dying," she told her husband Steve at the time. "I'm not scared of death, but I am scared of my baby growing up without a mother." Since there were more academy graduates than available positions on the force, she reluctantly stepped aside and let someone else take her job. She didn't know what she would do for a career, but a timely phone call from an old college teammate prompted her to try out for the local minor league team. She impressed enough to garner a spot on the team, and in just three years' time she had climbed the minor-league ladder and made it all the way to the RHL.

She came back to reality as the horn sounded outside the dresing room, indicating that there were two minutes remaining before the drop of the puck. She slowly rose from her seat, touched the photo of her now eight-year-old daughter that was pasted on the inside of her locker, before following the last of her teammates out of the dressing room.

Hey mate!

Joe Lumbman here,

I'm a comando in the main capitol of C-Ton,

My job is to patrol sector 4-alpha of the pedestrian maze.

C-Ton's transportation system is unique to the world.
They have unicars that operate much like an elevator across the city.
You push a button at your stop and the next car picks you up.
Sometimes punk kids fuck around with the controls and it really ticks people off.
Kind of like pushing all of the buttons in the elevator.
It's a cool system. You dont push up or down at your stop, but instead you request a destination.
The unicars then can quickly reprogram a route to pick you up and drop you off. Each car has a capacity of 6000kg so there are many people that are programed into the same route.

In case of war, this transportation system is to be powered down and people will have to walk through the maze rather than take unicars.

I'm a mechanic in sector 4-alpha. I repair broken cars, double check everything for safety and I have many other responabilities that would just be too boring to explain.
I dont really get to use my military training but I like to practice shooting on the rats.
After people take these unicars a few times they get to understand the properties of the maze. I know 13 year olds that skip school and mess around in the pedestrian mazes. I'm amazed that these kids know the system as well as they do. They prove to be a challenge to hunt down sometimes.
Those fucking bastards take up so much of my time. No one is supposed to be in the pedestrian maze except for licenced professionals while the unicars are powered. It's dangerous.
I still dont know how they get in either. The safety doors dont open unless there is a problem or the grid is powered down.
There must be a ventilator or something.

My house is also attached to sector 4-alpha. Most houses are attached to the unicar system nowadays. You just have to order them from your computer.
All industries and buisnesses and comercial outlets are attached to the system as well.
I have clearance for all of sector 4-alpha. These punk kids dont have clearance for anywhere but school during the day. They always go through the pedestrian maze. It's the only way they can get where they want to go without clearance.

For example, no one has clearance for my house unless I give it to them. Some people have temporary clearance and some of my close friends and family have permanent clearance.

Houses are pretty constant here in C-Ton.
Everyone gets a house when they need one. And the house is always the right size to accomodate your family.
Every house is fully furnished.
I would like to get a bigger monitor though.
I hate having to go to the sports theater everytime I want to watch the game on the big screen. It's so dirty there. The staff cant keep up with the cleaning.
The great thing about C-Ton is most things are free provided that you are a member of society.
And money doesnt work like normal countries. Money is given to you based on how much work you do. I dont know how the sytem works exactly I skipped school a lot to venture through the pedestrian maze.

And things dont cost the way they do in normal countries. Their cost is not based on supply and demand, but rather, it's based on how much work went into producing the product.

I dont know much about other countries, but I cant imagine a better life than the one here in C-Ton. Even if we do have all of these added hours to put in for this bloody antiwar coalition.
Robert Land should help us out with that. He's going to give us so much more free time.

Okay, well, come back to my office anytime you want.
I would give you a tour of my sector, but I dont have permission to do it with foreigners... sorry...

Later

Joe

Gemetrian C-Ton

Sam walked the snow covered road between the blocks of plastic prefabricated houses that the Gemetrian Military Authority hastily constructed. They were built on the ruins of the older buildings to houses the ever increasing number of refugees that fled East. This was now the slum around Base 14D23A, or some equally meaningless number. This used to be her home before the marines stormed through the city, and destroyed her old life.

Over her mouth was a thick scarf, partially to block the howling wind from her lungs, partially because someone told her that the fallout had spread this far East- right to the shores of the freezing Hudson Sea. She hoped that this cloth was enough to block the toxic dust. The snow only had footprints, and indications that a while ago a APC past down the streets. She nearly lost her footing as she stepped into a drift to avoid a Gemetrian Patrol in winter gear, walking the city with weapons at the ready. She whispered “Sorry” in crude Gemetrian and tried to avoid eye contact. Behind her a man was not so lucky, a solider bumped into him when he didn’t get out of the way fast enough. She saw another soldier crush his nose with the butt of a rifle. Blood dripped on the white snow as the Patrol moved on, ignoring the crouched man clutching his nose. Their breather masks made quiet hissing sounds.

The houses ended abruptly, and she stepped into the buffer zone. Soldiers walked between large concrete baffles, irregular blocks that prevented vehicle movement. There was nothing else here, nothing for hundreds of meters. A precaution, but a meaningless one now, as the city had run out of fuel days ago. Car bombs used to be frequent, but then the Gemetrians staunched the flow of petrol and restricted vehicle movement. To have a moving car you needed a pass. No one knew how to get the pass.

She finally reached the wall after picking her way through the baffles. Around the port, the Gemetrians built a 2 meter thick triple-reinforced concrete wall with machine gun turrets built on top of it, and vehicle baffles below. She got into the long line up for entry. The lines were moving fast today. Five soldiers stood on the ground level with carbines slung over their shoulder. One of them had a dog on a leash, panting. The dog’s breath formed a cloud in front of him. Three more dogs were tied to a pole and were casting baleful glares at the line. One other soldier was smoking near a machine gun mount, and four were watching over the identification machines and performing manual searches. The automated turrets on the wall, whined as the constantly shifted, acquiring new targets every time people slogged forward. The soldiers looked a little more relaxed, there hadn’t been a “terrorist” attack in days. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this, she hated how her beautiful C-Ton become an occupied country, but she was just sick of the war and the fighting. She was tired of the bloodshed, tired of not being able to sleep. Tired of watching her son balled up under the table crying as artillery rounds detonated around them, tearing at the soil.

It finally came to be her turn at the gate, she looked at the camera, and a bright light flashed. A soldier wiped her clothes down with a cloth, and submitted it to a cylinder in some sort of a detection machine. She held her arms in a T as a soldier frisked her, and passed her through two different detection gates. “O’lest Samantha Liegh, já Arbor dza O’lest nëtra-gia” one soldier remarked. She is Samantha Liegh, the Tree says she is clean. She walked started walking through the gate.

She needed to get to the store. Three days ago, some Gemetrian soldiers knocked on her door, asking to search her new plastic home. She knew that they would even if she resisted. The soldiers were delighted that she invited them in, and even more impressed at her crude Gemetrian. “See, our tongue is much better, much more elegant!” one soldier laughingly remarked. In return, they gave her a thick pad of meal coupons. There were some for rice and winter vegetables, some for chocolate and coffee, some for these strange seedcakes that the Gemetrians ate like bread. There was even a couple of coupons for meat. Her son was so hungry. She felt almost like a dancing bear, speaking their language for favors, but Liam needed food. There were worse ways to get it.

She strangely felt safer in these walls. She knew that as soon as she left the safety of the Gemetrian enclaves, that she would have to deal with the gangs that erupted in the chaos from the descent into anarchy. The Gemetrian soldiers patrolled day and night, arresting and sometime shooting thieves and rapists, but in the shadows of the slums the gangs still lurked. Things were getting better, Gemetrian paramilitary forces were now being based in the middle of the slums, and C-Tonians were signing up to be trained as police. The Gemetrians even installed streetlamps in the main roads this week. They hadn’t had those since the first missiles started falling.

She traded the coupons for some food, and hid the packages in pockets that she had sawed in the lining of her cloak. The clerk smiled as she asked for goods in Gemetrian, and gave her a free package of a honeyed herbal gum that was popular in Dis. The packaging was written in the complex Gemetrian script, with breath marks dancing around alien letters. She didn’t recognized the leafed plant that was pictured on the front. The tossed it over in her hand before sliding it into a pocket of her pants.

It was going to be a long walk home. She had heard rumors that the Military Governor had decided that the violence in her city had died down enough to start allowing the busses and streetcars to run again. That would be nice, especially on a night as cold as this one.

OOC: This is a work of fiction. Any and all RL names used are used strictly for effect, and I am not claiming that this is what the RL person actually does.

IC:

Part 1: Paul Martin

Paul Martin woke up in his official residence. He noticed the other side of the bed was empty, and he assumed Sheila was downstairs making coffee. The birds were singing out his window, and he picked up his pellet gun and fired a few rounds into the trees. Luckily for the birds, none of them were hit. He grabbed his towel and headed into the shower.

After showering and shaving, he headed down to his car, where his driver was waiting for him. Sheila pushed a coffee and muffin at him. "Eat your breakfast, dear. You need your strength to do well at running the second-largest country in the world." He took a bite of the muffin, then waited until they were halfway to Parliament before throwing the muffin out the window.

It was a Wednesday, so they had caucus from 10:00 until noon. The caucus meeting revolved around what they would do for entertainment at the next Liberal party fundraiser. They eventually decided to have Bozo the Clown make balloon animals. Not quite as entertaining as what former minister Judy Sgro came up with, but at least the media wouldn't call it a "scandal."

Paul Martin then went into downtown Otta Wa to eat lunch. Along the way, he saw a teenage girl giving money to a homeless guy. Pulling out his digital camera, he snapped a picture. He would remember that face.

He then raced into the House of Commons to discuss the business of that day. The Opposition, from both the right and the left, were hounding him that day. "Ah, I wish I had my pellet gun," he thought to himself. Eventually it was over.

At about five o'clock, he was being driven home when his driver had to stop for a girl on a crosswalk. He immediately recognized her as the same girl he'd seen downtown on his lunch hour. She recognized him too, and slowly and deliberately stuck her tongue out at him. He departed quickly.

After a brief supper, he grabbed his pellet gun and told Sheila he was going for a walk. Picking up his gun, he headed downtown. He saw the girl talking with the homeless guy. He picked up his pellet gun and fired a couple of rounds into their heads. Both slumped over.

Jen Palack walked home from the office. After six hours of arranging pick ups and drop offs for AgroU products from inside a cubicle, she was glad to give her legs a stretch. A few private cars rumbled by over the deterioted roadway, and a large governement SUV splashed her with dirty rainwater as she neared her appartment.

She sighed, and tried to wring the worst of it out of her hair and ballooned pant legs. She mouthed a dirty word as the coldness of the water seeped through, but the mask she wore against any lingering bacteria from the war hid her disgust. The corner cop nodded to her as she let herself into her building. It was pre-war, badly lit, but clean and as she understood it was cheap compared to rental costs elsewhere in the world.

A neon rendering of Lord Daimlan was hooked over the elevator doors. Jen decided to walk up tonight, although the elevator was reliable, except for when the electricity went out. It had been on without a break for almost two months now. Things were definitly getting better here in the city.

She let herself in with a key, and then disarmed her private alarm. In the fridge, she found a large loaf of whole wheat, half a dozen apples, fresh blueberries that she'd picked on the weekend up at the lake, and a pork cutlet. Also some milk, although it was begining to smell a bit funny. She'd have to go shopping later on. She remembered when that was dangerous, having to make the trek to the grocery store, risking arrest because she chose to wear the twisted corn stalk "eight" symbol on her lapel. She'd only been detained by the so-called security forces once. They'd asked her some very pointed questions, but it had been the truth when she'd told them she didnt have any personal connection to the guerilla fighters. She just had liked their idea of getting rid of the Adanac forces. But she hadn't joined them, in no way. Except for when she'd donated some cash. Otherwise, she'd just stayed out of the way.

She flicked on the radio as she settled into her chair in the living/kitchen area, waiting for the pork to heat up on the stove. They were playing blues this evening. They had been playing a lot of blues lately. She took her 'sensitivity' pill, and then picked up the book she had been reading earlier in the day, a book of poetry from the library, written by various fighters, all of which were dead now. It wasn't very good, but there were a few lines which made it worthwhile.

OOC: Same disclaimer as before.

IC:
Part 2: Sammi Wilkinson

Sammi Wilkinson woke up to the sound of birds chirping on her windowsill. She turned on her stereo to her favourite CD and searched for the birdseed. Finding none, she headed down to the kitchen to grab some bread. She found the birds gone, but left the bread on the windowsill anyway. She showered, dressed, put on makeup, and left. She could hear her mother calling to her to eat breakfast, so she grabbed some toast and caught the bus to school.

She had English first period and French second. Science was supposed to be third, but just then her best friend Nolee caught up to her. "Ugh, we've got this horrible sub in history class. Wanna skip with me?" Sammi briefly considered the likelyhood of interrupting the phone call before her mom took it, then accepted. She hated science class anyway.

Nolee and Sammi were walking downtown when Nolee looked in a store window. "Oh, those are the cee-yutest shoes ever," Nolee squealed. Not even waiting for Sammi, she headed inside the store. Unfortunately, along that street there were several places with cute shoes, so Sammi waited outside. While she was there, a homeless man approached her.

"Could I have a dollar for a cup of coffee?" Sammi reached into her purse and found a dollar, so she gave it to him. He smiled at her. "Thanks." She saw the Prime Minister of Kana Da driving down the street, and gave him a glare to freeze a Saskat Chewan summer. Sammi really didn't like the Prime Minister much. She saw him taking out a camera. Just then Nolee came out with a pair of shoes, and the two of them went for lunch.

Next was math and home ec. Sammi suddenly realized, "Oh no, I have a math test today and I forgot to study!" She bulldozed her way through the test with brute force and ignorance. Then, she headed to home ec. where they were eating some pie they'd made. The popular girls totally tormented poor Sammi.

After class, Sammi decided not to catch the bus. Instead, she begged Nolee for a ride downtown. Nolee agreed, provided that they catch up on some shopping before they went home. Finding a parking spot was a nightmare. They finally found a spot about 5 blocks from the mall. As they walked, Sammi spotted the Prime Minister and stuck her tongue out at him.

Pfft. Who needs him anyway.

After their shopping trip, Sammi got in just as the phone rang. Both of her parents were at work. Picking up the phone, she heard the automatic voice-dial machine announcing her skip in science. She hung the phone up, pleased that she'd gotten through before her parents found out. She started supper.

After supper, she remembered a library book that was overdue. She begged her parents to let her take a bus downtown. They finally relented, and she got on the bus and returned her book. Afterwards, she took a stroll down the street where she'd been that morning. The same man approached her. "You shouldn't be down here this time of night. All sorts of low-lifes hang out here." Sammi smiled at him and said, "I just had to return a library book. Do you know what time the number 4 bus comes?" Just then, the homeless guy pulled her to the ground. "What in the wor--" she began, but then she saw the pellet whizz towards the homeless guy. She understood immediately. As she slowly started to move away, she saw the blood staining the man's shirt.

Gordon McKinzey woke up to the sound of an alarm at 7:31 A.M.He groned loudly, as this was his backup alarm.He had overslept, but got out of bed.He looked out of the window at Yallistan City, as the sun rose mightily over the apartments around his in downtown.He got changed, and took the lift down to the ground floor.He got in his Moonlight Silver Krone Motors Twinturbo Tiger(Gordon's Car) and drove to Vinny's Breakfast Palace.

As he pulled up, parked, and double-locked his car, his friend Martin Guelloo was waiting for him.

"Sorry I'm late,"said Gordon, in a thick southern Kronemonsteland accent.

"You're not late,"replied Martin,"I'm early."

The pair walked in and placed their orders.Gordon had the Special, 2 slices of bacon, pancakes, buttered toast, 3 sausages, and scrambled eggs.Martin had cheese-on-toast and 2 sausages.They both talked about their jobs at the Yallistan City General Hospital.Gordon was a well-payed doctor, the best in the Hospital, while Martin was recently promoted to surgeon.

Once they had finished, Gordon took his usual route trough the city centre to the hospital, which took him about 20 minutes.It was only 8:27 A.M when he left Vinny's.As he clocked in at 8:51 A.M., he noticed there was something wrong with a patient, aged 69, who was having his monthly check-up.The patient had stopped breathing, and Gordon quickly called for a strecther.He was lucky,as the hospital had just recieved a shipment of strtchers and one was just passing him.

Gordon had found the probem, the patient had caght asthma.He issued a breather, and told the patient to be careful around dusty objects and listen for asthma warnings.From then on it was a regular day, analyse this, perscribe that, 1 hour lunch break.He got his paycheck, retired home at 7:00 P.M., and put the kettle on.He changed into his regular clothes, put the TV on, and switched to Kronemonsteland National Broadcast Channel 2, or KNBC2.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, and watched the latest antics on Mr.Bax and co..Then he watched the news, until 8:34 P.M.,and got himself dinner.Once he finished, he played on his Gamebox Station 3.Once it was, 9:30 P.M., he showered, and got into bed.He finished the Trondsheim Pigs Volume 1:The coming of Oinkland, and started Trondsheim Pigs Volume 2:The Revenge of Mr.Oinky for an hour, and then went to bed.

Part 2

Gordon woke up to his alarm, this time at 6:30 A.M.He got up quickly, and changed fast.He remote-started his KM Tiger as he called Vinny's for his To-go breakfast.Why the rush?Being it Sunday, and all.But Sunday's meant only one thing to Gordon - racing.Car racing that is, and Gordon was a big fan of the sport.

As he stopped at the red light outside Vinny's, the waiter gave Gordon his breakfast."Thanks,"said Gordon as the light turned green.He raced off to the Trans-Regional Highway.Gordon was a KOWS driver(Kronemonsteland Open-Wheel Series), and this was his rookie year.So far he had collected 1 win,6 top 5's and 8 top 10's over 15 races, with him 12th in points.His win came in the last race at Yallistan City Speedway.

This weeks race was 30 miles away in Trastia in Western Kronemonsteland.His qualifying time was scheduled to be at 8 A.M. He got the at 7:47 A.M., in time to see his teammate Adam Stevenson make his qualifying attempt.Gordon looked at the order and saw two good qualifyers in font of him, James Tylas, and Vasquez de Monoe.Tyals spun on his lap, but Vasquez went on to grab the pole.

Then it was Gordon's turn.On his out lap, he tried de Monoe's line, but his car didn't like it, so he guessed his way around on his flying lap to qualify 31st of 35 cars.Throughout practice, Gordon's times improved to 3rd fastest.In the 300 lap race Gordon raced hard and moved up to 7th on lap 219 of 300.A few laps later he was caught by Jamie Tyals, and Tylas was about to pass him when he wrecked into Adam Stevenson.Stevenson was crashed by Vasquez de Monoe, and de Monoe was penelized two laps.

With Gordon in 5th with 67 laps to go, he slowly moved up to 2nd, behind Dave Hillst with 10 to go.Gordon tried getting help from his other teammate, Chuckie Ilsdunoe, but Chuck was falkling back fast.Gordon was on his own.With laps ticking down fast, he was running out of chances, but noticed one thing - that Dave's car went wide in turn 4.On the last lap, Dave ran wide in 4, and Gordon went low.

Dave tried recoveringby blocking, but found himself on Gordon nose.As Dave crashed, Gordon crawled across the line to win.Then he prepared to do his donuts, but Dave Hillst had other idea...

To be Continued...