Hello guys. This is a very significant story for me. I've been on here for a year and a half, and in that time I have written 49 stories. This is my 50th story.

In June, when I tallied everything up, I had: over 500 reviews, 1,339 views to my profile, and, in June (it's obviously changed now) I had reviewed 268 times. 16 people favorite me and 18 followed me.

Wow guys. I don't know how to express my appreciation to all of you.

To my friends: IBATIL, Champ, innercornerhighlight, Star, Grace, Pen, (the last two left but I still gotta remember them) . . . Ruby, Rival, Scrittore . . . and many more who aren't on T39C fandom.

Guys thank you so much for being on here and supporting my writing (and all my guy troubles . . . lmao, thanks Champ, you're my hero!)

IBATIL, I don't know if you'll see this, but you are definitely my Fanfiction BFF. I treasure every conversation we've ever had . . . from boy to chickens to writing and back again . . . And guys... would you believe it that the first thing I said to her was confront her about her LGBTQ views (which I didn't agree to at the time ...) and then, after that argument, we just clicked and kept talking.

To all of you who have entered the various contests I've held. . . you're the greatest. Thanks. :DDDDDD

And to those of you who have read and reviewed, or even just read my stories, thank you so much.

On to my 50th story . . .

ILY.

39addict101.


Red and purple glistened in the droplets of water that fell from the gloomy sky. The sun shone through a tiny crack in the menacing clouds, creating the tiny rainbows in the beads of water that plummeted towards the earth.

The cobblestone streets were slick with moisture. Throngs of humanity rushed over it, scarcely noticing the slipperiness of the stone beneath their black clad feet.

Today the color was black. The women wore black heels and a black suit, with a white rose clipped to their suit jacket. The men also wore a black suit, with black dress shoes and a white undershirt beneath their suit jacket.

Their faces were expressionless, and all faces were shaped the same. Their skin tone was a creamy white, and their eyes peeked through the eye-slots in the porcelain masks that covered their faces.

No one had ever seen any one else's face, except the doctors, and the nurses who saw the young children after they came out of the baby manufacturers.

One young woman remarked to another as they split for their assigned jobs, "I wish they hadn't chosen rain today."

The older woman didn't look at the younger. "Yes. But the Council knows best, I'm sure."

Time had taught those who were older that looking at faces didn't matter. After all what was there to see, except an exact copy of your own face if the person you were looking at was the same gender as you.

A voice crackled over a loudspeaker, robotic, uniform in its manner. "Attention, citizens. Shift 3C begins in five minutes. I repeat. Shift 3C begins in five minutes." The speakers crackled off, and the young woman remarked to no one in particular.

"I wish I could speak like that. No emotion. No life. I'd be promoted so quickly."

An old man looked at her. She looked away, surprised that one of the elders should look at her as if she was an equal. She looked back up, and found him still staring at her.

"When I was young," his voice was rusted with age, "I too had such ambition. Young lady, look at me."

Startled, she met his gaze, his eyes boring into hers with intensity. "Smash that ambition. The Community will not thank you for it. If you have a dead voice like that unfortunate young man in the tower, thank god for it. You may not develop your skills or wish for something you do not have. It will not do. Wishful thinking and development of skills was what ruined the world."


Out of the ashes and rising dust clouds of the broken culture grew the New Civilization. The little bit of humanity that remained in the scarred, terrified bodies that walked the earth had been crushed out by the last explosion. And so the rules of the Community were formed.

Likeness was embraced, uniqueness shunned, to the point that someone's "brilliant" idea was adopted.

Why not make everyone a porcelain mask that looks identical to the next person's, with the exception of the genders?

Skull lasering was adapted, to shape everyone's skull the same after they were born, when their skulls were still soft.

Anyone who was different than anyone else was removed from the community.

DNA was studied and humans were bred like dogs to produce children with the same hair and eye color.

No one had a speciality in their jobs, save for the announcers, who were known for having dead voices, monotone and similar, so much so that it was impossible to tell one announcer from the next.

The houses were the same. The food was the same. The clothes were the same.

The only thing that was not the same was gender, for it was the only thing that could not be removed without seriously impacting the community.

It was into this world that Amy Cahill was born, squalling, red-haired, and green-eyed, a total contradiction, a mistake.

A sympathetic nurse felt bad for the child as she lay screaming in a box to be disposed of, and smuggled her home. She found a family who was willing to replace their dead child that they had not yet reported dead, and it was done.