January 25, 2110
Anna has not come home yet. I only hear whispering rumors among the complex. I wonder if she’s still alive. Mother hasn’t been feeling well either. She needs to see a qualified doctor. Mrs. Henderson next door was a registered nurse at one point, but even she isn’t knowledgeable enough nor does she have the power to make a diagnosis. Mother needs medication, this I know for sure.
Ever since the guards took Anna away, the complex has been relatively quiet. Every once in a while, you will hear couples arguing over food rations and shortage of supplies. The government controls all of that now. Every weekend, the head of the household must go to the supply bank with their ration cards naming each one of the family members. Lost ration cards equals no food or supplies. Theft has been an obvious issue because of this.
I took a stroll around my block this morning with Jacob. He lives a few units down, and 3 years younger than me. We talked about what would be in store for the future. If there is even a future for us at all. At this rate, I don’t know what to plan for. Something must be done. Someone needs to step up and change the future for the better.
January 20, 2110
It has been a few days since I’ve written anything. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking and re-thinking what I want to write.
The guards came to do a random sweep this morning. I was asleep when I heard screaming coming from next door. I looked out my window to see them shoving a very uncooperative Anna into their vehicles. These surprise inspections are unnecessary, and they know it installs fear among the apartment complex. Mother and I finished our breakfast consisting of cold canned soup. She said I was allowed a few minutes of computer time. Most of my days are spent day dreaming of life outside this hell hole. Yesterday, Anna was telling me of a place called “Sanctuary.” She said it was the last place where information flew just like the old times. How they managed to stay under the radar is beyond me. I cannot even fathom that kind of freedom.
I have a bunch of chores to do around the house – it’s also laundry day. Until next time… This is the end of my second entry.
January 17, 2110
My name is Jenna. I am writing this in hopes of someone else finding this in the future and will know what has happened, and why things are the way they are. Life was fairly normal for a while. I had a family. I had someone I loved dearly. The government’s power games started almost a hundred years ago. This is the part of history that may never be revealed. My grandparents were part of the movement to shut down the Stop Net Infringement Act. I heard life was beautiful back then. The information flow was unstoppable prior to the power games. You could do anything you wanted, really. I can’t imagine how the feeling of freedom must have felt. If I had known better, I image it would be the closest thing to the Garden of Eden. People had rights. Now all the right we have is to be silent. As long as you don’t cause much of a commotion, you are generally left alone.
Today is my birthday, and I received this old computer as a gift. I promised myself that if I ever got a hold of one, I would write down everything. I’m not plugged into any connection, but I think this was what blogging was about – writing down your thoughts to share with the public. First, they tried to oppress big corporations that were allegedly storing illegal content. Then came the seizures. My mother told me she was dragged outside and handcuffed while the authorities went to seize her laptop. When they brought it outside, one of the guards smashed it to pieces. She is claims her innocence to this day, and how the government didn’t care to even check the contents. It didn’t stop there.
Much like a witch hunt, there came a time where a simple accusation will get you tried as a felon. But there was never a way to prove your innocence. There is no way to undo the knowledge that you have already seen. It burns into your memory. Printing books also became an issue, where the government became the only publishing house. Printing presses were treated just like computers – smashed to bits if one wrong word was inked on paper. Most of the simple pleasures were lost. My grandparents managed to keep two books in their possession – an old journal with handwritten family recipes and our family Bible.
Electricity is scarce, and each apartment has their limits, so I will write more later. Goodnight. This is the end of my first entry.