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Description
UTOPIA

       His alarm rang loudly off his white painted wall.  He didn’t turn it off even though he was awake hours before it is set to sound.  Immediately he got up from his white colored bed, and approached the little red switch on the wall.  He watched the digits on the clock on top of it; 6:00:13; 6:00:14; 6:00:15; he pressed the switch.  Immediately the alarm ceases to sound.  “That’s the way father wants it,” he thought to himself.  Wake up when you are told to do so; somehow that rule always been on the back of his mind—just like an instinct; although a little bit more sophisticated than that.
       Automatically, the holoscreen appeared on the dining table where he already began to eat his breakfast; today it’s pancake with sugar free maple syrup with real butter, REAL BUTTER, he can’t remember when was the last time he tasted them.  He chuckled; he didn’t even think he ever tasted one before—how would he know it’s real or not? Then again, how did he know it’s not real?
       His attention returned to the holoscreen that grew louder each moment he didn’t put his interest in to it.  It’s designed that way so everyone would listen to the news and updated with the current affairs.  Today’s news:  Birth rate increased by 25% compared to last year’s record and reached a new high replacing the old one—first in over 100years.  Apparently the government intervention act had worked well—within the next 10 years, the world’s under population will no longer be a problem.  News session ended, and changed into displaying his daily schedule.  He has another 3 hours before work.
       He walked into his closet, and stripped off his pajamas.  He took a black colored hanger from the closet and tidily placed his pajamas on it.  He pressed a blue switch located on the side of his closet; the door closed.  After a few second of low humming sound the door reopened.  Now the closet is filled with 10 rows of similar outfits; all are white colored polo shirts and a black colored pants made of synthesize fiber that very much feels like cotton.  Not real cotton for sure; too expensive to issue to a civilian.  He took it out, still holding it in his hand and gazed at it for a while; or rather to a small light blue symbol located around arm.  “Civilian outfit” he says.  Somehow it bothers him, he doesn’t know why.  It has always been that way.  Decided it isn’t worth his time to figure out, he slips himself in it.
       The house gate suddenly creeks open.  “Its 6:30,” he thought, “time for the morning walk.” He sighs.  Not that he despise the exercise, nor that he doesn’t think he needs one, he just doesn’t like the routine.  Why should I worry about things like this, he though, the government proved itself to be right, ever since the Utopia project took effect, crime dropped 99.9%, all civilians have a residence, a decent occupation, and definitely enough to eat all day, not to mention the car.  It’s just….  Suddenly he felt a glitch.
       He’s not the first to get out of the house, some of his neighbors already outside.  He smiled at them, the smiled back.  He gazed to the sky; toward the bright light other than the sun.  He used to have trouble finding which is what, but he finally figured out that the sun is a little bit bigger in diameter to the light he’s looking for, and a little bit brighter.  He raised his to shade his eyes from the ray and smiled toward the light, “Good morning father, it’s a beautiful day,” he said.  Not long, he realized, more people are out of their houses, man and women, old and young, even their residential familiars.  They looked into the sky and do the same thing as he did.
       He was walking for about 3 miles and made a right turn—toward the newly established community.  He had never been there before; since it was just open 2 days go.  He felt it was a good idea to see some of his new neighbors, and to be familiar to them as he is toward his old neighbors.  His eyes wanders left and right toward the newly made houses.  They are all the same with his, but somewhat a little bit different.  Some are brighter than the others, and some has ornaments on their lawn.  “They must have paid a lot for the permit,” he thought, looking at a unique ornament on one of the house.
       He then saw a woman with dark hair with 2 children came out of the house.  His eyes widened.  He seen them somewhere; no—he knew them.  He knew them, but the doesn’t; that it doesn’t even make any sense.  “Julia,”  he whispered.  He felt a glitch.  He ignored.
       “Julia!!!” he called the woman with dark hair.  She gazed at him.  “Julia, it’s me!” he called her again, now half running toward her. She’s sill looking at him.
       How could he not remember?  How could SHE not remember?
       He’s standing in front of the woman and her 2 children, “Peter, Wendy, don’t you remember me?”
       “My name is not Julia,” she said with a baffle expression, “and these are Mark and Jena,” she continued, putting her hands on each of the children’s head.
       They all looked at him sincerely confused.  Either that or an award winning act.
       “No, your name is Julia, and he’s Peter, and she’s Wendy!” he insisted, “Don’t your remember me?” he asked again, looking at the two children.
       “No,” the little girl answered with a rather a forlorn expression.
       “Yes you do, I’m your fa….”
       Everything went dark.
       Half awake, he heard the same humming noise he heard from the closet.  It’s dark.  He also heard some people talking.
       “Subject DCV#274450—condition stabilized—placed for an immediate reallocation.”
       “What happened?” asked another voice.
       “Resonance—it’s his fourth right now.”
       “Wow—that’s a lot.  You better move him far from here.”
       “You know I will.”
******************************************************************************
       His alarm rang loudly off his white painted wall.  He didn’t turn it off even though he was awake hours before it is set to sound.  Immediately he got up from his white colored bed, approached the little red switch on the wall.  He watched the digits on the clock on top of it; 6:00:13; 6:00:14; 6:00:15; he pressed the switch.  Immediately the alarm ceases to sound. Not wasting any second, he finished his breakfast, change to clothes, and stepped outside of the house.  He gazed at the bright light, smiled and said, “Good morning father, it’s a beautiful day.”
THE END

Udayabagya Halim

Description
UTOPIA

       His alarm rang loudly off his white painted wall.  He didn’t turn it off even though he was awake hours before it is set to sound.  Immediately he got up from his white colored bed, and approached the little red switch on the wall.  He watched the digits on the clock on top of it; 6:00:13; 6:00:14; 6:00:15; he pressed the switch.  Immediately the alarm ceases to sound.  “That’s the way father wants it,” he thought to himself.  Wake up when you are told to do so; somehow that rule always been on the back of his mind—just like an instinct; although a little bit more sophisticated than that.
       Automatically, the holoscreen appeared on the dining table where he already began to eat his breakfast; today it’s pancake with sugar free maple syrup with real butter, REAL BUTTER, he can’t remember when was the last time he tasted them.  He chuckled; he didn’t even think he ever tasted one before—how would he know it’s real or not? Then again, how did he know it’s not real?
       His attention returned to the holoscreen that grew louder each moment he didn’t put his interest in to it.  It’s designed that way so everyone would listen to the news and updated with the current affairs.  Today’s news:  Birth rate increased by 25% compared to last year’s record and reached a new high replacing the old one—first in over 100years.  Apparently the government intervention act had worked well—within the next 10 years, the world’s under population will no longer be a problem.  News session ended, and changed into displaying his daily schedule.  He has another 3 hours before work.
       He walked into his closet, and stripped off his pajamas.  He took a black colored hanger from the closet and tidily placed his pajamas on it.  He pressed a blue switch located on the side of his closet; the door closed.  After a few second of low humming sound the door reopened.  Now the closet is filled with 10 rows of similar outfits; all are white colored polo shirts and a black colored pants made of synthesize fiber that very much feels like cotton.  Not real cotton for sure; too expensive to issue to a civilian.  He took it out, still holding it in his hand and gazed at it for a while; or rather to a small light blue symbol located around arm.  “Civilian outfit” he says.  Somehow it bothers him, he doesn’t know why.  It has always been that way.  Decided it isn’t worth his time to figure out, he slips himself in it.
       The house gate suddenly creeks open.  “Its 6:30,” he thought, “time for the morning walk.” He sighs.  Not that he despise the exercise, nor that he doesn’t think he needs one, he just doesn’t like the routine.  Why should I worry about things like this, he though, the government proved itself to be right, ever since the Utopia project took effect, crime dropped 99.9%, all civilians have a residence, a decent occupation, and definitely enough to eat all day, not to mention the car.  It’s just….  Suddenly he felt a glitch.
       He’s not the first to get out of the house, some of his neighbors already outside.  He smiled at them, the smiled back.  He gazed to the sky; toward the bright light other than the sun.  He used to have trouble finding which is what, but he finally figured out that the sun is a little bit bigger in diameter to the light he’s looking for, and a little bit brighter.  He raised his to shade his eyes from the ray and smiled toward the light, “Good morning father, it’s a beautiful day,” he said.  Not long, he realized, more people are out of their houses, man and women, old and young, even their residential familiars.  They looked into the sky and do the same thing as he did.
       He was walking for about 3 miles and made a right turn—toward the newly established community.  He had never been there before; since it was just open 2 days go.  He felt it was a good idea to see some of his new neighbors, and to be familiar to them as he is toward his old neighbors.  His eyes wanders left and right toward the newly made houses.  They are all the same with his, but somewhat a little bit different.  Some are brighter than the others, and some has ornaments on their lawn.  “They must have paid a lot for the permit,” he thought, looking at a unique ornament on one of the house.
       He then saw a woman with dark hair with 2 children came out of the house.  His eyes widened.  He seen them somewhere; no—he knew them.  He knew them, but the doesn’t; that it doesn’t even make any sense.  “Julia,”  he whispered.  He felt a glitch.  He ignored.
       “Julia!!!” he called the woman with dark hair.  She gazed at him.  “Julia, it’s me!” he called her again, now half running toward her. She’s sill looking at him.
       How could he not remember?  How could SHE not remember?
       He’s standing in front of the woman and her 2 children, “Peter, Wendy, don’t you remember me?”
       “My name is not Julia,” she said with a baffle expression, “and these are Mark and Jena,” she continued, putting her hands on each of the children’s head.
       They all looked at him sincerely confused.  Either that or an award winning act.
       “No, your name is Julia, and he’s Peter, and she’s Wendy!” he insisted, “Don’t your remember me?” he asked again, looking at the two children.
       “No,” the little girl answered with a rather a forlorn expression.
       “Yes you do, I’m your fa….”
       Everything went dark.
       Half awake, he heard the same humming noise he heard from the closet.  It’s dark.  He also heard some people talking.
       “Subject DCV#274450—condition stabilized—placed for an immediate reallocation.”
       “What happened?” asked another voice.
       “Resonance—it’s his fourth right now.”
       “Wow—that’s a lot.  You better move him far from here.”
       “You know I will.”
******************************************************************************
       His alarm rang loudly off his white painted wall.  He didn’t turn it off even though he was awake hours before it is set to sound.  Immediately he got up from his white colored bed, approached the little red switch on the wall.  He watched the digits on the clock on top of it; 6:00:13; 6:00:14; 6:00:15; he pressed the switch.  Immediately the alarm ceases to sound. Not wasting any second, he finished his breakfast, change to clothes, and stepped outside of the house.  He gazed at the bright light, smiled and said, “Good morning father, it’s a beautiful day.”
THE END

Udayabagya Halim