WE BROTHERS

  By: Phil Vollmer

  Cold Open

  Liza: It’s been 40 years since The Fall. Some call it year 40. I think that sounds so stupid. January 21, 40. I am part of Gen 1. The first group of people trying to live a normal life in The Fall’s aftermath. My mother died before it all really started or when it all started, I dont really even know, which is crazy now that I think about it... and my father… well… he’s the reason I’m doing this in the first place.

  Before we get any further, I need everyone to know that I am writing/recording this knowing the danger it poses to myself and my family. I have taken every precaution I can think of because this story must be heard, recorded, whatever. Our history can not be lost, can not be erased. If you find this share it. "What is done in the dark will always find the light." Somebody smart said that, I think they were talking about bad stuff coming to light but I think it works here too. The truth, even recorded in the dark of night, in the shadow of a ruthless dictatorship, will find the light.

  Heres what I've done: (I'm sure its not enough)

  First, this is not written by any AI. In fact I have turned off my WIFI. Anytime I work on this I will have it turned off. I am typing this on my computer but I am using the locally saved Text software. I have even turned off spell check and grammer check. This is me. I will do my best to edit, and spell correctly and have grammer thats at least readable, but I dont want to be interfered with, I dont want the computer to autocorrect me. When I correct my spelling, it will be becuase I want to. Those soulless bots dont get a say in this. I hate them, I hate the AI.

  People need to know – people have to hear these stories. First hand accounts of what happened during The Fall. Dad doesn’t talk about it very much. At the same time it informs his every action, every word, everything about him.

  Our lives are hard, we work with a migrant group of farm hands, we travel as the seasonal harvests come in, but I feel I have to get it out of him now. Dad is old enough where he doesnt get put out on the fields to pick the crop anymore so his work is easier during the day but hes not too old to have forgotten what happened to him during those pivtol years when the world watched as everything changed. However, it is not safe for us, we who still defy the chip mandate are outcast, but I will die before anyone inplants that artifical trash in my skull.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I was too young to really remember much before or during The Fall. My mom, I remember her voice, she would sing the most beautiful songs. Her face though, I cant find it, Ive searched in my memory, I have tried all the back corners, the far reaches, tried to dust off all the cobwebs and nothing. Sadly, we don’t have any photos or videos… all of those were lost when Dad had to flee with us from our home in the middle of the night.

  He will talk about Mom endlessly, that is something I can easily get him to open up about. He talks about her beautiful soft face, how her blue eyes pierced your soul and melted your heart. How her thick red hair (just like mine) would always be so soft and smell of pine and lavender. He’ll go on about how strong she was... "both is body and in mind" he would say, "Now Im not talking about how she was a body buidler or anything, no" he would go on to say "She had the work ethic of an Ox, once she started a task she saw it finished, I once saw her transform a backyard in day, from scraggly patch at sunrise to an urban oasis before sunset. She was smart as a whip and never let any man put her in her place neither. Liza, my darling, she knew that every bit of that strength was in you too." Then he would smile and not stop smiling for next minute or two, still daydreaming about her.

  Then I’ll ask how she died… silence – he won’t tell me. It’s always “later” or “I’ve got to go do something right now”. The closest I’ve ever gotten was “It’s too painful." I know she died before the Fall, again I think I know...

  I do know her death changed Dad’s entire world. I know that my uncle was part of the first rebellion against the government AI. I know that now we live in a place they used to call Mexico, now called the UFA (United Free America). I know that where we once lived is now controlled by a Facist AI, that for some reason wants me back. I know we are refugees and we are still being hunted. We live as migrant workers, with the unchipped because it is a good place to hide. If I ever get chipped I will be forced to return. An extradition ferendem was retified last year and I am no longer allowed in this country. I know this all begins with my father, but what I don’t know is what the connection is between all of these things.

  What happened to him? How did we end up here?

  I can only guess that all of these things are somehow connected and I know the one man who can give me the answers I want and has the stories that we need to hear in order to fully understand what happened during The Fall.

  I just need that old bastard to talk to me.