“Corie! Get your friggin butt out of your friggin bed and get ready for school!” My older sister Elizabeth yelled. I groaned. Ever since the law had been passed, I’d been going to school with only a week a year off, but that one week was always uneventful and hard to remember. I pulled my shirt on and, grabbing my backpack and bicycle lock, took off for school. When I was halfway to school, I stopped and whistled. Hunter the 10 month old puppy ran up to me and gave me a good licking. I pulled out a treat and leaned against a tree, throwing the treat to hunter.
“Wow, Hunter, you’ve grown, what 10 pounds in the last three months?” I asked him.
Hunter barked at that and rolled over. I threw him another treat and got on my way. When I got to the bicycle rack, I pulled out my lock and put the combination in. D-R-E-A-M. I pulled at the lock to open it but it stuck. I groaned. I pulled a couple more times, and eventually it opened and I locked my bicycle to the rack. I stood back to make sure I didn’t leave anything in my basket and ran to class.
I have three teachers. Misses, Mister, and, Miss. My first class is with Mister on the history of our country. This is one of the most boring classes and I have to do it every day, so it is pretty much all review from yesterday. Actually, that’s what all my classes are. Irritatingly long reviews of the day before which was also a review. Ever since Pres I. Dent became president, things have become so redundant. No one celebrates birthdays. No one uses last names. No one drives. Instead, we all ride bikes. It did wonders for the economy and environment, but it still sucks. And we all ride the same bike. The only thing that differs between every person is their name, face and hair, their clothes, and their bicycle lock combination. I had long blonde hair with blues eyes. Some peoples' lock combinations have numbers, some have letters, some have both, but I’ve been told that even if you see someone put their combination in, you’ll instantly forget it. Scientists even made it so that there is a drug--The Drug--everyone takes when they are born or if they were born before The Drug, they take it every ten years. The Drug makes it so that you can’t feel hurt or get sick. I don’t know a person who hasn’t taken it. Sometimes i wish I could do something different than review and repetition, but every time I think that, I realize there is nothing I can do than wait for someone to change something. For our country to wake up.
That night, I Elizabeth comes into my room, which is boring and gray, and says:
“Cor, They’ve decided to let us have “credits” which is like what used to be dollars! Isn’t it amazing?!”
“Sweet,” I replied “but couldn’t it become a problem like money did?”
“I hope it doesn’t...” She said, look off into space. Elizabeth is old enough to remember what money was like. She says it got removed because it got too out of hand, the millionaires got too much control, the middle class disappeared, and the the poor class got to be twice the size the of the upper class, then president Dent came and saved us all. He never got elected, but he still became president. I know I was alive when he wasn’t in office, but I just can’t remember it. I asked about it once in fourth grade, on a review day, and Misses yelled at me. I cried and everyone just stared. I seemed to be the only one who could show emotion in my class. And in my town except for Elizabeth and my teachers. Elizabeth says that our parents were taken away because money was taken away and our parents were only there to earn our money. I don’t remember my parents either. Actually, I remember one memory of my mother. She said something about dreaming and how I should never stray far from my dreams. Elizabeth said the computer is a place of dreams, so when I get some credits, I get a laptop. I go onto the internet and Elizabeth was right. It is a place of dreams. It even says dream right in front of me. It literally says “dreaming”
“Hey Elizabeth, c’mere!” I yell.
Elizabeth walks in. But when I see her face, it isn’t her face. Her eyes are glowing red and she’s quietly laughing.
“You are very dumb, you know,” she says, “this is all a dream. You’ve been dreaming for years and years. Follow the light in your laptop. Wake up. Leave this horrible world.”
She grabbed ahold of my shoulder and slapped me repeatedly "Wake UP!"
“ELIZABETH! NO! ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH! NO! STOP IT! NO! MOMMY! DADDY! HELP! PLEASE!”
I watch in horror, still screaming, as my hand went toward the light.
I woke up in a hospital room, still screaming. Then I saw you. You asked me what made me scream. I asked you if it was all a dream.
"It was", you told me.
You told me to relax, and tell you what made me scream.
"Elizabeth. That's who, or what made me scream," I shakily said.
"You know," you said, "most people don't dream during a coma."
I was confused. A coma? What had happened to induce a coma?
"Do you know who I am?" You asked,
"No, I don't. " I replied.
" I am Pres I. Dent, the leading professor in the study of comas and what happens to a human during one."
At the mention of the name, my breathing quickened.
"You're him, the...the tyrant who took over the USA, and reduced us into nothing but a system! You took my parents, turned everyone into emotionless slugs, and..." It was all coming back to me clearer than before, than when I was dreaming "You....you killed my friends, my family, everyone I know, and placed me with people I didn't recognize. "
A look of fear spread on your face then quickly dissipated. You put your hands up " Fine, you caught me," You said with a chuckle, " But please, explain more about your...dream. "
" So you're him?" I asked
"No way, I just want to know more. "
You sighed "Okay, listen. You know how I said its strange how you dreamt while In a coma? Well, no one-at all-dreams in a coma. You're the only one. So, maybe you were remembering something. In fact, you were remembering something. You just had the names wrong. Elizabeth was your sister, Danielle. She was a spy for the government. The tyrant was named Pike Creshwin, the self elected president, and you are not Codie. "
" How do you know what I was called in my dream coma?"
" Because that is the name of your newborn brother, who was killed within the first week of the tyranny, only because they wanted you."
" You are the fabled, the feared Gwyneth Creshwin, daughter of Pike Creshwin, the only one strong enough or skilled enough to defeat her own father. There are millions in amnesia inducing comas right now, all because of that damn drug, and thousands more being put in them.
You stood up.
" You, Gwyneth Creshwin, are the leader of the rebels, and the only one who can overcome the coma. You are the only one who can save the world. "
"So, what do you say?" You said,
" How do I know I can trust you?" I replied,
" Trust me, you know," you said, smirking at the joke.
I grabbed your hand as you helped me up from the bed. A rush of memories flooded my consciousness. I suddenly remembered who you were in my previous life, before the tyranny. I knew what our connection was like, what you felt when I was in the coma. The truth came in an avalanche of information. I knew that we, two fifteen year old kids, were going to save the world from a fatherly force unlike any other. It would be hard, but we'd do it. I knew then that I could trust you.
I looked into your eyes-my twin brother's eyes-smiled, and said:
"I trust you, Edwin Creshwin"
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