Dystopia: Fat Trish
August 14, 2128
Status: Feelin Smart
When the companies took over 42 years ago, things changed. At first, they were slow and helped. After the incident, society began reconstruction which allowed the society to reinvent itself. As this process commenced people looked up and praised the companies for supporting and keeping them alive. This resulted in the unbreakable trust between the companies and the people. As time went on, the companies convinced the people that the nation would be safest with them having control over everything. At first it was a dream come true; the companies were endlessly feeding the people, rebuilding communities and cities, and there was peace and happiness. But soon after, the company began cutting corners and turned to oppressing people. The people began to realize this, but as soon as the companies included manipulative sedatives in their food, the people were unable to realize the company’s subjugation. Only few of my kind still exist. People whose status has entitled them to food without sedatives. I am a rare breed. I am Fat Trish.
August 31, 2128
Status: Depressed :/
Today is my birthday. My dads present for me is the creation of the holiday to celebrate the namesake of my favorite food, bacon. So today is now known as National Bacon Day. Nation wide there are festivals celebrating bacon. At school my friends all commented…on how much they appreciated my dad giving out free bacon products; there were no comments about my birthday. It doesn’t make sense. This went from a present that seemed like it was for me to a political statement and a way to keep the people in our country happy. I do not know why he did this, His intentions were completely misleading. This was not about my birthday…why is he focusing so much on other people and not our family? Why do other peoples perspectives matter so much so suddenly?
September 11, 2128
Another chair broke today… it was in the middle of science class… this time it wasn’t me, it was Jacob. He was sitting in his seat eating another McChicken when the back chair leg couldn’t take his weight anymore. The leg bent in, causing the chair to tip backward, there was that moment where time seemed to slow down to a snail pace, it was right as Jacob was mid-air, inches from crashing to the ground. His eyes grew huge, two round circles bulging out of his head. The harsh bright yellow lights of the school’s classroom reflected off Jacobs’s greasy chin. Then came the noise, the metal of the chair hitting the ground and Jacobs’s huge, blubbering body landing directly on top of it, metal on flesh. He let out a low grunt. After lying motionless for only a moment or two, he rolled over, tried a couple times, failing miserably, to sit up. He finally gave up and rolled onto his stomach, got on hands and knees and stood up. Jacob brushed his chubby fingers on his pant legs and gave a bow. The class gave a roar of applause and Mrs. Walker our teacher even whistled. I remembered this exact thing happening. It happened so frequently, there was a closet in the hallway titled “Spare chairs”. Mrs. Walker shook Jacobs hand and left the classroom, saying she would be back in only a moment, she just had to grab a new chair for Jacob. Looking around the classroom I could see each student staring enviously at the broken chair. A group of students had even gathered around Jacobs’s desk and were congratulating him and listening intently as he bragged about how his father would likely reward him for this by giving him a soda machine in his room. Jacobs’s eyes seemed to light up, like those of a little boy. When in fact, Jacob was nearly 14 and weighed well over four-hundred pounds. I knew that look in Jacob’s eyes I had felt it before too. I had felt it when I had broken a chair for my first time, it was in Kindergarten, and I had broken nine chairs since. It was a school record I was normally so proud of, but...
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