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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Sci-fi · #1415928
A young artist explains how the future of America has turned out.
                                          The High Lords

                                                Prelude

  Ever since the great purge, mankind has stooped to levels far lower than ever before.  Some even went as far as to crown it "the second dark age". You see, over the past fifteen years, magnificent cities have crumbled, humanly monuments have been decommissioned and society has been reduced to living in disease ridden sewers and ghettos. We live among the rats now, sharing their lust for clean air, fresh food and continuance of dwindling bloodlines. Once a third world problem, these thoughts now pervade through the aching mind of a once thriving New York City. It seems everyone lives in run down apartments these days, and the rest wander the streets or in the sewers. Houses are a luxury few realistic residence hope to acquire during their lifetimes. Cars are now only reserved for the secret police, powerful political figures and incalculably rich residence that have the money and gal to bribe the local guards. The unimaginably small sliver of society that has been blessed with the title "upper class"  loath the less fortunate and their constant bickering for financial aid, but unfortunately not even they  have the power to leave the imprisoned, and impoverished city, as even the most greedy of guards wont dare give a civilian an invalid passport. Fights are all but too common, and dozens die every day for the most basic of needs.
      It seems fate has places me, Robert Brissle, in the middle of this cracking egg. Being a self-acclaimed artist, I rarely participate in the countless protests around my own apartment building, but instead focus on the recording of such events, though art. It's hard though... to make a living that is...
      Hell, I don't call this living. There is a definite distinction between living and surviving, and this is most definitely survival. Sure, there's always that glimmer of hope. That butterfly leading you to the end of the tunnel... But things just never turned out like I wanted, or what anyone wanted for that matter. As I bicycled my way past the Freedom Tower, I paused, "Just think!" I envied, " I could have owned that..." I would think the same poisonous thoughts every time I took my daily paper rout. It's hard not to, why, with the high lords shouting down from the tenth, twentieth, even thirtieth floors, you can't help but look up at the industrial giants. But that chance has come and gone... Ever since the stock market crashed, and then ceased to function, a few men rose to the top as the rest of society fell to the point of scarcely receiving sustenance. This event was later named the Three Doomsdays. As large numbers of workers lost their jobs, building increasingly became vacant and their productivity followed suit. After about a ten years of financial drought, a few fortunate investors began to shine. They seemed to have pulled out all their stocks right before the market crashed, accumulating huge sums of money in the process. The middle class was virtually eliminated in three days as the government required all legal citizens to acquire at least half their total incomes worth of stock, to combat inflation and increase the growth of the economy. But even the "Early Birds" had their own social ladder, at the top of an even larger ladder.
  To show superiority over each other, they soon resorted to an outright luxury war to outdo one another. With all the desperate companies going bankrupt, it was not difficult for the Early Birds to quickly grab up the city's finest buildings.  The game was simple; who ever had the largest and most prestige's sky scrapers in NY wins. They soon proclaimed themselves the "high lords" of the city and usually began living in their recently purchased overly extravagant 40 story mansions. The high lords usually installed common household pleasantries, so they would never have to leave their prizes. Most hired several servants to perform unpleasant tasks such as cooking, cleaning, gardening for them (yes, each skyscraper's protruding front section usually housed a well cut lawn and fountain, as well as a small garden on most top floors). They also hired lawyers, business relations and if necessary, a small mercenary army. Electricity was an expensive tool of the trade, even for the Early Birds. Each building had to be re-fitted with hard lines after the great purge shorted all electrical power back in 2167.
    The second class citizens felt appalled by the Early Birds lack of concern for their wellbeing. "It was just a fad" to those "greasy flying pigs" said a homeless father, holding his thin child as he neared the steps of the Trump building "just a fad..."
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