Giving Futuristic Fiction a Shot....

It doesn't take a genius to see that our society is changing--and changing fast. Things which were unthinkable a mere twenty years ago are widely accepted today. Between the transgender movement, assisted suicide, polyamory, and rigid political correctness, right and wrong, truth and lie, are being blurred and confused. So I have written this:

Madhouse

Six years. Six years of my life wasted. I stare in helpless fury at the screen. How could they do this to me after so long?
I see you are puzzled. Let me explain. My name is Tyler Mcdermott. I am an Undecided and am two months shy of seventeen. I live with my parent. Zee is a cat, officially one since I was four. I know little of my other parent, save that he was a transaphobic speciest and left us because my parent's life choices.
The government provided care to permit my parent to work, so I lived in the Care Facility until I started school. Then I lived at home and spent most of my time at the After School Center. I began gaming a little late, but excelled and soon overtook many of my peers. I entered the world of Alphadomine at ten years old. I chose a female wolf avatar. My supervisors thought it indicated my preference, but I am not ready to make that choice. Alphadomine is more beautiful and complex than you can imagine if you have never played it. I have established and guarded my territory against everything from hurricanes to zombies for years, rebuilding when need be. I had mates, children--a whole pack. I saw my daughter torn to shreds by the Blades and exacted a terrible revenge. I lost two thirds of my pack to famine two winters ago, but we have recovered and revived. Then here, now, on the verge of my greatest victory, when I would have taken the Scarrow Caves, I check Alphadomine one morning to find this message:
Alphadomine Users:
We apologize, but this game will no longer be available. Our programming center has
been closed until further notice. We cannot preserve data, but if you wish to be alerted
when the game becomes available again, please join our email list.
Former users will be given a discount when the game is again available.

What do I want with discounts? I've lost six years worth of data! I've messaged them twice--they know full well what I think of their offer--but they have not gotten back to me.





Hi. I'm Glen. I love skydiving, muscle cars, dancing, Jesus, my girlfriend, Dara, and barbeques. My church is Blaze Central. If you've never been there, you should. It's pretty awesome--basically a combination of all my favorite things (yes, we did go skydiving with the youth group last summer--for free, thanks to the marvel of fundraising!).
I was hurt by a church two years ago and swore that I would never set foot in one again, but Blaze was different. My last church--the church my grandparents attended--literally kicked one of their leaders out when he came out as gay. It also had this lady who would censor the church's e-library for anything that disagreed with her painfully narrow beliefs. It even banned women from the pastorate. Blaze, on the other hand, has equal numbers of men and women in all areas. We have a transgender worship leader, three gay men on the board, not to mention seven lesbians. Jesus came to make our lives more abundant and Blaze seeks the same. There can be no real happy life when you have to fight and deny who you really are. Here, we support all life choices as exhibitions of our freedom in Jesus.
In my last church, I was told to fight who I was and to try to become whatever the pastor wanted me to be. Every Sunday, I left church in a deeper state of depression and self-loathing. Until I met Dara, my self-esteen was lower than the Marianas Trench. You could almost say she redeemed me. She showed me myself in a whole new light and slowly helped me to see myself, not as some kind of wretched, damned sinner, but as a strong, smart, exceptionally talented man. Oh, she just walked by and told me not to forget that I'm also as hot as they come. I have spent far too long trying to be some kind of saint. God doesn't expect us to be perfect. It's my job to be the best me I can be, and I don't mind saying that I'm doing a bloody good job of it.
In my new church, preaching is reserved for those who come out to the midweek study. Sunday morning is better spent in worship than lecture. We had a worship band which has won dozens of awards. They can out do most secular bands on the stage. We also frequently view inspirational films in the service, and coffee, pop, cookies, and popcorn are supplied by the church. You really should come visit--it's basically one big party.




My first name is Jay, but on duty, I am Officer Ahmed. I used to believe in justice, but I've given up on it. Last month, I brought in two house-breakers, an ecstasy dealer, a woman who drowned her child, and a street preacher. The last one is the only one they sent to jail. It's not that I have religious sympathies.  I was taught  from my childhood that the greatest evil is religious intolerance and the greatest good, tolerance and unity most easily found under agnosticism. I fancied that I would be a champion of tolerance as a police officer, but that is not what happened. I have come to see the meaning of "tolerance": it means the guilty must go free and the innocent should live in fear of saying a wrong word. An ill-placed word can send a man to jail longer than a carefully placed bullet. I often wonder if we have become too thin-skinned. One of my fellow officers lost his job for repeatedly referring to and addressing a person who was, by all that eyes or ears may tell, a man, as male after he claimed to be a woman. I know another who has maintained her post, with no more than a bit of counselling after drunkenly beating her fiance with a baseball bat.
But I am not qualified to critique the morals of my fellow officers. I had a wife and two children. They left me when I would not stop using Cannabis. What can I say? It's not like I'm addicted--weed doesn't work that way. I needed to relax. I couldn't detach my mind from my work when I came home. I started smoking it for my family--I didn't want to take to drink. I had seen what that does to families. I just wanted to be calm--to forget that I had helped to break up a mob that was molesting a handful of teenaged girls, to forget that I had been called to the scene where  an elderly couple were found at the bottom of a pond after being murdered five months earlier. My neighbor used it often, so I started using it. My wife said that was when they started to lose me. She says we had our last meaningful conversation four years ago--one week before  I started the cannabis. It's been a while. I could quit. But I don't have a reason to. I've given up on most things. I live from day to day. I pay my bills, I do my job, I eat, I sleep. I haven't the will to live or the desire to die. I just don't care any more.


I'd give you my name, but then I'd have to kill you. (Jk, you take things WAY too seriously, man.) I'm definitely what you'd call famous. I sing and that is absolutely all the hints I'm giving about who I am. I made more money yesterday than most people make in their entire lifetime. I've lost track of how many girlfriends I have. I'm a bit of a promoter of open relationships, you might say.  I am literally on the top of the world. Life can't get better.
Am I happy? What kind of a question is that? Were you even listening to me back there?
Okay. Look, life gets us all down sometimes. Yes, I do sometimes think a single, private relationship, with no cheating or side-relationships would be nice. But I've got an image to maintain. I don't even like getting smashed. I do that 'cause it's expected too. But morality and fame are mutually exclusive--unless it's infamy you're after. I wasn't raised this way, you see. My parents had morals--my mom even had religion. I honestly wanted to live by those morals as a kid. But my parents were also poor. So I ditched everything they taught me and look at me now! The moral of this story, kids, is: Don't listen to your parents if you want to go anywhere in life. It's a different world today than the one they grew up in. Right and wrong aren't what they used to be.



I'm a tree. I became one to save them. This was their world before mankind came to be, and, if we are to save this planet, we must assimilate. Leave me alone. Trees can't talk.



I'm Phoenix--Phoenix Alexandra Butts. Yes, you heard that right. Everything has always been against me. I'm an ugly girl--and an even worse boy, so there's no use in that. They say looks aren't everything, but I get no points for intelligence, wit, talent or, really, anything. I was screwed up from day one--genetically, chemically programmed towards depression and self-hate. But tomorrow everything will be better. Tomorrow, I will die.
People used to kill themselves--back when no one understood, back when, if you failed, they would treat you like a criminal. But times have changed. People understand. If you wish to die, there are people who will help. Once, suicide meant slit wrists, ropes, drowning, poisoning and pain. Now, it is but now you need but make an appointment. I had two consultations with my psychiatrist to confirm that the route I had requested was indeed the best for my case. Then it was merely a case of choosing a day. Tomorrow, I turn twenty. It seemed a good day. I'm a bit scared of needles, so they have promised I can inhale it through a mask.



I am a business man. My card is simple enough:
Evan Moore
Sweet Satisfaction Inc.

I have sixteen young women in my employ here in the city, not to mention those on my private luxury island resort. I also have seven young men. I work in the sex industry, and I am a CEO of a corporation, which, though not as large as some, offers an impressive selection. We are one of the first to offer online purchase with delivery.
I take pride in my business. Why should I not?



Welcome. You've come to the wrong side of the tracks, I am afraid. My name is Jamie. I have no job because there is no work. My grandfather owned an oil company. By all rights, I should be heir to a fortune, but that before the crash. Oil is worth less than nothing. My father was arrested and fined to the point of bankruptcy for damage to the environment.
And now I live here. This is the re-forested zone of the city. It's the only place we can live. They wanted a clean city. There are no slum or red light districts. So we live in the trees. Hunting is illegal here, so we have no choice but to steal. Sometimes, I get lucky. Some people leave food out for the animals, and I get it.
The government used to pay for shelters and food for people like me, but that was before the money ran out. Now every tax dollar goes to paying interest on our national debt and studies in green energy. I've heard people say that it will be beneficial to the earth if people like us just die off. Fewer people means smaller carbon footprints, I guess. I understand perfectly. They think this tree is more important than me. They can think what they want. We will have our revenge. Their precious forests can burn for all I care.



My name is Elissa Lewis. I am a married woman. I have three children. I am a stay-at-home mom. I know. You didn't think those existed anymore. I am such because I want to be. My husband, Xavier is six foot three, with all the lean build of his Masai ancestors. He will turn thirty-one on April third this year. He loves to read books written hundreds of years ago and has never played a video game in his life. He is the best father ever. I have been married to him for seven years and never once seen him lose his temper. I love him more today than I did when we exchanged our vows. I love him more this year than I did last year. I doubt there was ever a happier couple.
My husband is also serving his third jail term. He was arrested just over a month ago. He will be in jail for two years this time unless he can get parole next February. This is four times as long as his last two terms. The charge, as always, is hate-speech and spiritual violence. The crime? Xavier is a pastor and evangelist. He goes out on the streets to preach and share the gospel of Jesus Christ. My grandfather was a pastor. He used to preach on the streets, but the laws were different back then. There are still no laws against preaching on the streets, but if you offend someone, then you are in trouble. The gospel always offends--no one likes to hear about sin and judgement. But if you offend the wrong people, then you are charged with hate speech. Hate speech has been illegal for years, but five years ago, another law was added to the criminal code. It forbids spiritual violence. Spiritual violence used to mean abusing a person to force a conversion, but now all you need to do to get charged is tell someone that their religion is wrong. Self-esteem is our world's greatest idol, and to damage it is the crime of all crimes. The gospel leaves no room for self-love, and Xavier refused to dumb the gospel down. I am proud of him. He stood strong in the face of a society that hates God, no matter the consequences. But my children are asking when daddy is coming home. They are too young to understand.