Chapter 1: A Dark Future

I woke up roughly, still feeling groggy from the previous night, and almost toppled the chair I slept on. It always took me longer than it should have to regain my senses in the mornings, perhaps more so with having to sleep with one eye open. The room was dimly lit with one candle, illuminating a cramped space with damp and weathered walls of wood, one small bed, a huge assortment of dirty blankets, and a small working desk next to where my rickety chair had been placed. It wasn’t much, but it was all we had left.

          David and Claire were sound asleep, or at least it seemed that way, pushed close to one another on the bed. My blankets were placed on the floor where I normally slept, so saturated with dust that I often contemplated resigning myself to a cold night. There were no windows, but enough gaps within the fracturing building to let in some air – though that proved less welcome in the middle of winter in the Swines. I had the kids wear gloves and thick socks but they shivered still, and Claire… well, her coughing had only gotten worse since our arrival.

          She needs medicine, I thought. But where on earth could a man of my complexion find something as valuable as that? Sure, The Swines were much better than many of the other Ghettos, perhaps in some sick way even the best. But the living conditions were still less than amicable, and I often witnessed the soldiers playing their games, forcing us further into the broken mindset – I had heard with revulsion tell of ‘blackenings’ taking place. Apparently it was a monthly event, one which I hid well away from.

          Not wanting to dwell on horrors, I withdrew a lighter from the desk drawer with a pack of cigarettes – surprisingly, cigarettes still sold well in the Ghettos, among other drugs. I snuck out to the small hallway which led to the front door. The hallway was pitch black, as always, and the door was covered in locks and chains. An aged, purple cloth, wedged between the cracks, blocked any chance of peeking in; I didn’t take any chances. I checked a second time to see the keys were still in my frayed jeans and walked out onto the streets.

          Rubble, broken buildings in ruins, and signs of burning lay everywhere. There was a full moon out, which gave little light to my eyes, my spectacles being weaker than I required. I looked around, taking it all in. Just a decade or more before, it had been one of the greatest capitals of the world. Now it lay tarnished. Everything in our history and culture had been destroyed, replaced by the True history of the Masters. There was absolutely no way of us proving otherwise either, not after the meticulous and thorough job they did. According to their doctrine, the white man had never ruled; the white man had never been anything more than an unintelligible beast. I would’ve thought that there were those who remembered otherwise, but even if they did, they certainly showed no sign of it, and would never dare to speak out on the matter. Why would they? The world was now built around the coloured man; they were privileged from birth. Why would they accept a belief that overthrew that, and brought them down to the level of those they systematically oppressed?

          We were banned from rebuilding too, and they had converted our lands so they imitated their own; there had been a real boom in Chinese and Islamic architecture. But for us, they had a special section, building high, black walls in which us pigs could live: the Ghettos. I wasn’t too sure on how it worked, but from what I could tell, even this new empire had a power struggle of sorts. Some Ghettos were owned by the black man, and others by the browns and yellows. They lived in some sort of competition, in who could subdue us the best.

          The Swines, I had heard, was unlike the others. Sure, there were monthly disruptions caused by the armed, coloured men, but I was assured that it was only for those caught in wrongdoings, and people had grown accustomed to them. The white man who kept to himself and minded his own business, was safe. And by extension, so were his family.

          I hadn’t seen anything to prove otherwise but I never let my guard down. I had banned David and Claire from leaving the house, ever, and I myself went out only for supplies and food gathering. Even then, I made minimal to no contact or conversation with any other residents – I had heard that some Masters frowned upon us talking, thinking that the white man should just breed and stay alive like cattle for their benefit. After all, how could an animal run its own society? Surely, they would need constant supervision and interventions from the True rulers of this earth; the policers of the world?

            Pushing such thoughts aside, I saw that I was on the last of my cigarettes.

             I’ll need another pack soon…

          I lit it carefully and drew from it deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs and wash through my body and mind, feeling it relax my shoulders and posture instantly.

           She never did like it when I smoked, I reminisced. Elena had been a brilliant wife and mother. She had been everything to me. Perhaps it was from the sadness I felt or the guilt, but I found my cigarette was done in what felt like seconds after lighting it, and none of its peace remained within me.

             And this is why I should be forgetting, I sulked.

         I stood there for a moment longer, hoping, that somehow it would all get better, staring out at the London ruins. Dusty jeans and a thick, knitted Christmas jumper sporting a now demented looking Rudolph clothed me, with dark boots somewhat protecting my feet. I could still feel the cold inside me somehow.

           Suddenly, I heard a gunshot erupt not far from me. Worse still, I felt the bullet pierce my shoulder.