A short story

(Note: I feel too lazy to post but here is a short story previously published on my defunct blog. Enjoy.)

299 A.A.B (After Ascension of Bush) or 2305 A.D

She unlocked her front door and stepped inside with her bag of groceries. It was one of those days Clare was glad to be home from work. Not that the day was particularly stressful, but Clare liked being home, and the security she felt being in her beloved home. It was all she had left after her husband died and her daughter left for college.

“Computer, turn on the lights for the living room and kitchen.” She added as a forethought. “Please.” Clare had grown up with good manners pounded into her head.

“As you wish, Mrs. Fredon, although you do not need to thank me.” The CPU that ran the minute and mundane details of the household had a soft dulcet tone, per her request. She was grateful to the government that had supplied household computers to every single registered resident. It helped make her life so easy.

The living room was suddenly lit with a warming glow that brought to life the coziness of the decor. Well decorated, it shone with the personal touches that showed off Clare’s interests. A picture of Jesus drew the eye – it was lovingly painted and lovely to gaze at. Clare wouldn’t allow any crucifixes or anything that portrayed the pain Jesus went through. She considered it disrespectful.

However helpful the computer was, it couldn’t put the food away. Clare sighed, thinking of her husband and how he’d make her laugh as she did her business in the kitchen. She knew she’d never remarry even if she could...marriage was only for those who could reproduce. It was in the Neo-Constitution, after all.

She fixed a quick meal of spaghetti and salad, pouring herself a glass of red wine. She thought to herself, as she ate at the table. She polished off the food and cleaned up for the evening. Clare tried to not to think of it as a lonely routine...and more along the lines of keeping her home tidy and presentable.

Clare moved into her living room and set down in her comfy overstuffed recliner. Her eyes caught at a picture of her daughter, Lucia, and Robert. Clare smiled to herself, remembering when she snapped the picture. As she recalled, it was three summers before she left for college. Before Robert’s death. Those were happy times. Her smile faded.

After Robert died of prostate cancer, Lucia had become more willful and less accepting of authority. Especially that of the current President-for-life, Mr. Isaiah Bush-Mason. Though not a true member of the Bush family, he was the only male left to carry on the name and the heavy responsibilities of governing America and its territories.

She turned on the TV to dismiss her thoughts. Clare loved her daughter, but worried at her independent ways and ideas. Instead of thinking, she watched her favorite reality show, Who Loves Thy Neighbor????, and let her weary bones melt into the chair.

“Interrupting this program for a very important news bulletin. Stay tuned for your local reporter.” A ponderous voice announced, while a bright blue screen flashed that message, burning the words onto her retinas.

“I wonder what it is this time.” Clare mumbled, the wine had done its job and relaxed her almost to the point of sleep.

She watched as her favorite anchorwoman, Sandra O’Donnell, took to the screen. “There has been a very serious incident at the University of Oregon. A group of students has declared that our great country has taken away our liberties, our individuality. The group has chained themselves to the flagpole as a form of protest. They call themselves the Freedom Seekers.”

A pause as Sandra listened to her headpiece. “The field reporter has said that he’s been given an exclusive interview with the head of the ....instigators. Kirk, I’ll switch it over to you.”

Clare shook her head. “I hope those parents are ashamed of the job they did.”

Kirk came on the screen, smiling that fake smirk she always hated. It was most un-Christian of her, but she secretly wished Someone would smack that irritating expression off his face. “These Freedom Seekers, I believe, are searching for nothing more than publicity. To undermine our society’s values, what our forefathers died to protect.”

That, Clare was reluctantly forced to agree with.

Kirk walked as he did his little spiel toward the flagpole. One girl stood out from the rest, her dark eyes staring defiantly at the camera, and she took the hand of the girl next to her.

“My name is Lucia. I believe America belongs to everyone, not just the straight or Christian citizens. I believe we should be able to marry those we love, because love is hard enough to find as it is. I believe that we have the right to pursue happiness, wherever we find it, no matter how rich or poor we are.”

Clare watched in horror as Lucia kissed, KISSED, that other girl on the lips. The older woman started to make words with her mouth, but nothing came out. Her hands were outstretched to the monitor in helpless terror, unable to do anything for her only child. Her baby.

Armed men, in full SWAT gear, circled the flagpole. Their orders were to quell this mini-rebellion, no matter the cost in human lives.

Before Kirk was led away by the police and before the camera was shut off, Lucia managed to say... “Mom, I love you.”