Okay, so this is my first story. Officially, I am actually writing it outside of FF, but decided to post it so I could get at least some form of input on it… Anyway, read on!
Chapter one
January 15, 2025
It's hard to believe. Five years ago, the whole world was in a state of complete ignorance about the Plague. Now, everywhere you go, whispers of "Grunts," "Ships," and "Slammers" fill the air, saturating you with fear. Will there be another outbreak? Can we contain it better this time? If there is another, how will the world respond?
I'm writing this "diary" as part of my psyc eval. All of the people who went through the Plague have to have at least one psyc session. I think it's stupid. The only ones who survived were the crazy ones. The ones with paranoia, the predictors of the apocalypse, they were the ones who made it through, not only surviving, but thriving in the only world they understood.
Me? I'm anything but. A normal, suburban dwelling white kid, easy to pick on, easy to exploit. But I made it through. How? I had a little help. Now, I realize this whole notebook will be turned into the control, but I still have never liked lying. So the whole story, everything, is going in this thing provided by my "evaluator."
I'll start with the basics. My name is of no importance, you control idiots know it anyway. Before the Plague, I was form suburban New York. Now I live with all the rest of the lucky easterners, on colony 7 on the Pacific Ocean. 7, the lucky number. Also, the last number. Colonies 4, 5, 6, and 8 that were supposed to launch from the US are gone. In total, the human population of the world is considered to be less than a million.
If you're reading this and you're from the control, fuck you. I don't really care what happens after I get this all down, where at least someone can see it. To my "evaluator," thanks for nothing. Well, besides the medium to express my innermost thoughts. Yeah, right. Anyway, to all you normal humans out there, consider yourself lucky. Congratulations, let's all evolve into fish. Heh, maybe I am going a little mad. We'll begin this "past journal" as my evaluator calls it, from my beginnings.