"Hello there, brainwashed students and citizens! I stand here before you, elected as this generation's care-taker. I have one comment on the subject; how stupid of you."

He paused to observe the crowd's initial reaction. Wide, surprised faces. Who would expect such a thing from Christian? Sweet, quiet, Christian?

"You all look a bit startled. What? You shocked? You shocked that your perfect little Christian Gates is making a mockery of your 'utopia'? Don't be. I'm leaving this god damned place." He glowered at the audience, let them know he meant it."But first, my story."

"I was born into this modern hell. Never given even a chance to taste freedom, condemned to live here, wasting my time. I was told it was the only way. And for so long, so long... I believed it. I was raised on the poor side of town, where the run-aways have hideouts and they're still working on the housing. So yes, i was exposed to the other life, but I believed the sick lies telling me that such was criminal. That the run-aways were scum and that if it weren't for suburbia's 'genorosity' they would have already been exterminated. That, once again, THIS was the only way. I ate it up, the town ate it up, and every one of you ate it up. The lies that are the foundation for New America."

"Do you realize that you are all mindless? That you are nothing but government pawns? Do you see that they are using you to achieve a state of perfection, only aqquirable if you are lacking in free-will? Which you all are! None of you can make your own decisions! Not one! You have been raised on pills, and set into a system since before you could walk! If you are all content to be droids, go ahead. Me? I'll be the first to run in 3 years.I will not be blinded by the 'refining' of America.I will not be doomed to this working class, robotic state. I will be free."

"All this time, I've been lost. MIA to a system that doesn't care. No ones found me, so i'll go searcing. For a home. For a family. You guys know what they are? Your definitions say a house, and people who share your genes....But there's more to it. I'll find them, and I'm sure as hell they won't be in the suburbs."

The audience was murmuring:

"What's he doing? What is this?"

"Should we force him down?"

"No,no, that would be out of tradition..."

"Maybe we should contact The Peacemaker? Oh my... we'll need paperwork... Anyone have a pen?"

"He's cursed! He's obviously gone mad!"

Christian thought for a moment. Maybe he had gone mad. After all, it wasn't the 20th century anymore. Eh...I'm screwed anyway...Show must go on.

Although several listeners had opted to inform The Peacemaker of this disturbance, no one filled out any of the incident forms. No one made a move to force Christian from the stage. The audience sat in a silence that was not any longer bored, but anticipating. Even the priest sat patiently, waiting to hear the continued ramblings of a psychopath.

"The medication, the control, it's all poison in your blood. Keeping you down, keeping you out. But in this era, where one wrong has you condemned to a lobotomy. Where one slight glitch has you tested for weeks, and put on even more pills, maybe it's for the better. Maybe if you are that weak, you have a better shot 'living' in here, than thriving in the real world."

"But if you are strong, you know the real answer. Class of 13, do you really think these bastards know what's best for us?!"

The 8th graders Christian was addresing looked blank. One shrugged. Christian sighed, it was no use. Thy had been pill dependant their whole lives, always being told what to do. Why would the authority have any reason to lie? They had never been hurt.

Oi...They don't know what they're missing. Fine then. Don't listen. Have fun rotting in suburbia. Well, I'd better wrap this up if i wanna leave by dark...

He stood on the stage a moment. Picking out words as they swam across his mind. If this was the last thing he'd say, he wanted it to sound powerful. As he thought, memories of the girl, his inspiration, flooded in. He remembered her always fighting. Challenging every rule. Being sent to the evaluation office god knows how many times... And finally, escaping. Yes...he would escape too...

"My name to you may be no-one, but i am a long lost son of America, the REAL America. A true supporter of the old ways, and, quite ironically, born on the same day as our country was. Not August 19th, when you commies took over. July 4th, the day when our country truly became a land of the free. But you took me and raised me in this era, where our heroes are cons and nobody cares if you're really alive or just sitting and breathing. All i have to show for 13 long years of oppresion are the scars of attempted suicide! Because even hell would be beat this!!" His voice broke through several octaves as he yanked up his right sleeve and showed the crowd his arm, covered in jagged raised lines.

He continued, screaming now and not bothering to roll his sleeve back down." To this charlatan religion, this prosthetic way of life that i gave my heart and soul to; NO LONGER! I'll break my fingers and lie through my teeth to escape this tyranny! To escape this 'American way'. I'm not going to sit on my ass wasting my time by waiting to be jugded by The Peacemaker! I don't care! Good-bye America!! In a land where the only freedom is to obey, all i have to ask you is this: Do you believe what you see, from heroes and cons?"

Christian knew it was over. His face was hot and his eyes were stung. He walked through the aisles quickly, drivenly, ready to get the hell out of there. Yet something tugged him to stay, something told him to do more, let them remember. Maybe it was the eyes of his peers, all focused on him. He cast glares to as many as he could meet.

He reached the door and before he could make a quick escape, he felt the tug again. It told him to go out big, go down in history, to just follow instincts. And so he listened to it.

The priest watched as Christian whipped around to face him. The kid's face was covered in tears and yet there was an almost demonic smile on his lips. Christian mouthed the words "fuck you" and took something from his pocket. A matchbook.

Shtttttrck! Foomf!

He lit a match and threw it casually onto the New American flag. As he exited the doors, he shouted without turning back, "I QUIT!" And then, Christian Gates walked westward, following in the footsteps of the girl he called his inspiration.