The Story of the Civil Serf

[Atticat]

      Journal Log 1

     It seems the air gets colder every day in City 45. Every day I get older and every day my assigned clothes get more worn out. It's hard to get around the city when you're constantly coughing, but that's what I get for smoking cigarettes my whole life hehe, and look at me now, talking to myself in a journal.

     Oh Leuthen, how we've seen better times. I remember the amber trees and the jade grasses of my childhood, walking through the violet fields...now all I ever see is gray.

     If things are so bad here, why do I feel so content? Is old age finally getting to me? Death can come at any time, and by no means in all hell am I fearless...but I don't feel resistant to this world either. I guess I'm keeping this journal to remind myself who I am, because I might one day wake up to be a completely different person...

     Some of the Civil Protection in this place, they are just kids. I spent decades in a beautiful, vibrant world before they were even born. Is it hell to be us? Is it hell to be them? The resistance, some of them are so eager to die. And the citizens, talking of smoking cigarettes in hallways, arguing with CP officers, getting into fights with each other, sometimes I wonder if they realize what danger they are getting themselves into.

     Today I saw a friend named Jack. He is a fellow smoker as well. I'd tell him it's no good, but who am I to speak about that, being the one asking him for a cigarette in the UCH apartments. A man by the name of Stepman I believe, ratted on them; I saw him say it to a CP unit. I tried to warn Jack, but he didn't get out in time. In the end he was alive though, and that's all that matters; that those bastards don't amputate him.

     A generous man named Alex gave me a request device, a can of water, and three books for free. Makes me feel there is some hope for this shell of a city. Most literature is banned in this police state, especially all books that are not branded by the UU, but I try to read what I can.

     I am going to convince the UU that I am worthy of being authorized to become a medical doctor. I learn what I can and try to stay out of trouble, but sometimes it just finds me. Heh, what's an old man to say when someone needs a place to hide from the CCA for smoking one cigarette? Maybe I ask for it.

     I don't want any part in NOVA. I see so many youths so excited to become a CP, it scares me. Just like Communist China, all the children want to be Red Guards, all the children want to turn their fellow citizens, friends, and even parents in for rewards from the government. It is so frightening.

     If I get my damn medical license I'm going to help citizens and CP. It's all the same to me. Resisting at my age? That's just asking for trouble. I'll leave that to future generations, but I refuse, I refuse to be dehumanized like some of those Nova Units.

    I'm tired and my cough is acting up again. Time to lay down on a carpet until I can afford some furniture. Welcome to City 45 Leuthen.



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            Notes - Feel free to read this as I update it, hope you enjoy it guys!

[Atticat]

     Journal Log 2

     Besides sitting in checkpoints for hours on the verge of collapsing because of my heart problems and flying scanners trying to take pictures of my face through windows, today was pretty alright.

     Maybe my standards are just lower since arriving in this city. I met a couple of CP Officers that seemed to take a liking to me. Some of those recruits aren't too bad if you take the time to make a joke or two with them.

     I decided it'd be a good idea to sit by a tree and read a couple books, stupid me. They got stolen and worse, my friend was wrongfully abused for it. It hurts to stand by and feel your impotence in these situations. I took him back to my friend's apartment and tried to accommodate him the best I could.

     Those stupid checkpoints are getting to me. I don't have the stamina that I used to. Sometimes they can take up to thirty minutes. The air is cold and standing in one place for so long weakens my knees. A friend showed me a secret passage through a tunnel into D6, but I was too afraid to risk death in that blinding darkness without a flashlight. D6 isn't my style anyway.

     What else is there to say? The city is still cold, big surprise. Stores are never open, big surprise. I did get some rations today. Really renewed my spirits. Another couple supplies to subsist on like a rat, but at least I'm a living rat.

     There were so many sick people today. Citizens crashing to the ground, having allergic reactions to supplements, falling off steps, being stabbed, all kinds of problems, and I'm useless. I can't do anything without a medical license, it frustrates me, but at least I can call the CCA to request help for them. Who am I kidding, half the time they just stand their and tell the poor guy to get up.

     Some CP Officer said cigarettes were legal, and a bunch of citizens believed him. I'm too old and jaded for that, so I kept to myself. Low and behold they were busted eventually and ignored when they pleaded deception.

     I guess that's it for today. Gonna try to sleep, but paranoia is getting to me with those damn scanners perusing the sky.

[Globey]

//Very interesting, very entertaining. Keep it up

[Atticat]

 Notes: I very much appreciate that Globey  .

                      Journal Log 3

     Today my eyes and mind alike were concomitantly transfixed on that black tower piercing the clouds. I've heard rumors that there is something at the top. That the Union uses weather instruments to keep the sky constantly cloudy and hide what's up there, I don't know what to think.

     Some of my friends are slowly migrating to D6. It starts with a couple visits, and before you know it a week has passed and their apartment is deserted. I may not like the CCA, but every time I've been to D6 somebody with a mental problem has threatened me - and in my state of heart conditions, escape is not an option.

     I finally mustered the courage to traverse the underground tunnels, but I think I saw something. I almost had a heart attack. It was strange and only had one eye, if I can even call it an eye. Those tunnels are absolutely enveloped in darkness, I barely caught a glimpse of it. I don't know if I'm going down there anytime soon without a flashlight.

     A man tried to break into a woman's shop. She was a friend of mine too, named Nikki if I can recall. The CCA came in and I left the scene. The next thing I saw out my window was her getting beaten against the wall with a stun baton. She told me it was for an audio violation. Those bastards.....the higher the rank the more their humanity has been faded and withered.

     I had an idea to get some UU approved paper and post poetry around the city. One of the poems I wrote which humilating enough is not actually mine goes like this :

                                                           Somniferous whisperings of scarlet meadows
                                                            Sleep calling and my dreams are wondrous
                                                                I traverse afar, my reality abandoned
                                                                    Not a care if I never, ever, wake
                                                                                                                                      - Anathema

     I want to remind people in this city that there is hope.....but I can't help but know that the CCA would remove and burn these things if found. Maybe I could post them in D6, as much as that place bothers me.

     More and more I wish to sleep forever. It's the only solace I can attain, except when the nightmares come of the Civil "Protection" breaking down my door and dragging me off to the amputation chambers.

     I've already been detained once, and for a damned audio violation no less. I complied  and was brought into an interrogation room for a grueling amount of time. The CP Unit was quite compassionate in the end though, he gave me some food during the whole mess. I was accused of threatning a man; I coulden't threaten a twelve year old girl lest a full grown citizen in my condition.

     I was thanked for my compliance, but still thrown in a jail cell, of course. You can hear the sounds of the screams as the paralyzing batons burn the flesh of prisoners. I tried to calm my nerves and ignore the shrill sounds penetrating the window.

     Staring at the sterile, cold, and gray wall of my jail cell, I drew imaginary scenes of my childhood; oceans perforating the sand with each accesion and regression like a pendulum. Seagulls riding the cyclonic wind currents, the laughter of children. I looked at my hands and painted tracers adorned with vibrant colors not yet discovered through the air and whisked them into rising circles like the sinuous smoke of a cigarette.

     
   Maybe I should end on this note. Here's to a night without terror Leuthen. I pray for redolent dreams.
     
     

     

[Atticat]

                         Journal log #4 - Don't drink the tap water

     The guards were nowhere to be seen, faded crimson leaves danced on the ground in the howling wind, citizens laid with their backs to the walls, looking up at the gray sky; even the city was bored.

     Last night was a mess. I feel like I relived my college days, and none of it was intentional. All because of a game of rolls. Where do I get started.

     There were three other men invited into my house for a game of secret gambling; we'd each roll a pair of dice and the highest number got the pot, pretty simple right? Wrong. I led the men into my house, only one of who's name I can remember, being Tristan. Everything went well at first, some of the men sat out on the first roll, being afraid naturally to gamble in this hell hole.

     They made themselves at home and I offered them some water from the sink, figuring that breen's water was a bunch of hooey like the bunk supplements they feed us. Stupid Leuthen.

     So we are rolling the dice, and all of a sudden on of the men, who’s name I can’t remember for the withered old life of me, starts to stagger around the room until he collides with my table, smashing it to pieces. We asked him what was wrong, but by this point he had lost the ability to form coherent sentences. Personally I thought he was out of his mind and we had picked up a loony off the street – this is why you don’t invite strangers into your house.
     
     But that is just the beginning. We lock him in the bathroom to prevent any more damage and you can hear the battering of the door with his fists accompanied by some form of alien tongue that I’m sure even the Combine haven’t encountered. This is when a young Australian woman walks in and naturally we invited her to play a game of rolls, the screams and bangs on the door still exploding behind us. She ran away and we never saw her again. Thank Thor that no CCA were around for this mishap, or I’d probably be writing this journal log with my fingernails on a cemented prison wall.

     Finally, we let the man out of the bathroom, whom at this point has regained his senses. This is when Tristan drops to the ground, not responding to any of us. I picked him up and dropped him in the bathroom, like some sort of washing machine for the insane, but I think he hit his head pretty hard when he crashed into the bathroom tiles – my mistake.
   
     I felt horrible about giving him a boo boo so I through a chair in there that he could maybe sit on during intervals between shotgun puking and chanting about air traffic controllers controlling the Combine. Mistake #18.

    After a long, long period, I finally opened the door. Tristan comes out wielding the chair, pinning one of the men against the wall, knocking down closets, breaking my TV set, flipping my couch. We began to let fly projectiles in the form of cans, which he seemed to be immune to. After knocking everyone else out, I grabbed a crate and wrestled with him until the chair was out of his hands. I turned my back and sat on the ground, my weak heart pounding and my lungs grabbing air like rations with no CCA around. Mistake #25
     
     I feel a sharp pain in my head and woozy from the water. Everything goes black. I wake up. My apartment is destroyed. I’m covered in vomit. Nobody is around me. Like some kind of bad dream that followed me on the way out to the corporeal world.
     Moral of the story – don’t gamble with strangers and DON’T drink the tap water.

[Atticat]

Journal Log 5 - City of No Leaves

The sun blinded me. I fell out of bed, if I can call it that. The stairs were creaky and rising sun could be seen climbing beneath the doors of the dimly lit hallway.

Inhuman yells could be heard throughout the tired city and static echoed across the plaza.
Subjects of the masked unity herded some sentient sheep against a wall, demanding to show their business permits.
I wandered for a while, looking for a job, somewhere, anywhere.

When the sun balanced on the peak of the clouds, megaphones softly demanded our presence at the ration distribution center.
I thought I would be used to it by now.
Every day something more horrible than the lasts happens.
A citizen was thrown out for fumbling his sid number and hasn't been seen around town again.
Another man only spoke German, he was electrocuted four times by batons of steel, he slumped down to the ground and blood dripped from his collar.
Today, a  nearly deaf lady came. Asian I think. She asked for information four times and couldn't get out of the line. The gun was only cocked once. I looked away.

I can see my ribcage when I look down and the "rations" hurt my stomach. They're fixed. I know it. I've seen it before in the camps, and there is nothing I can do.

Even the books are nothing but propaganda.

[Atticat]

Leuthen on Strategy

I am compiling this for present and future efforts

1. Don't suck up to the CCA. They are be frightening, but they take their sadistic joy from torturing those vying for their favor.

2. Get to the ration line first, follow the patterns of the broadcasts and time it. Get through as competently as possible.

3. Enter District Six through the subways. Get a flashlight. If there is no flashlight, follow the walls.

4. Don't give your name out quickly. This is the easiest way to get turned in.

5. Never contact NOVA unless you need them, unless you want to be thrown into a cold cell and forgotten about. When something serious happens, try to charm the officer and hope for the best.

6.  Never talk about cigarettes in public. Never talk about them to anyone, period. Smoke alone.

7. Recognize who are here to stay and who are bound for relocation to the nether, avoid the latter.

8. Share rooms, save tokens. Accept loyalists only and hope the Civil Protection groups you in with them.

9. Only gamble with the closest of friends.

10. Don't drink alcohol, too risky. The dumpsters get searched for that stuff anyway, and people aren't gonna go down for a crime they didn't commit.