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robots with no emotions and all their decisions made for them.
There is an element of fear towards imperfection and freedom. The
council has strived for a perfect city of order and control, but in the
process they have taken away life and all its glory. When I get to
Charlie’s I don’t make my way to the leisure hall or gym; instead, I
move to the generic window of his apartment and think about how
imperfect this perfect world is.
By the time Charlie comes home from the leisure hall the sun is
setting over the field of white buildings. As the dinner dishes are
cleared back into the metal cupboard I suddenly think of something
and turn to Charlie. ‘Charlie, where are all the children? All this
time I’ve only seen adults, where are the children?’ Charlie closes the
cupboard doors and sits down next me, ‘Children are taken from
their mothers at birth and are sent to the development complex
outside New New York until the age of 18 where they are given a
partner and sent to a block.’
As Charlie’s mechanical voice echoed through the apartment, I
get up and run. I had to get out of there, away, somewhere far away.
There must be a way somehow to get out of this prison. As the glass
elevator arrived at the ground floor I sprint to the nearest exit,
desperate to feel something natural, the wind on my face or a fresh
breath of air.
A loud siren rang throughout the streets. I’d forgotten about the
curfew. It must have been past nine. Before I had time to think,
lights shone in the streets and the sound of officials filled the air.
I began to run, no direction or plans, just running.
‘
Control
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