𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝟹𝟶𝟶𝟹

Now that we find ourselves within the same book of life, I welcome you to continue down this bumpy path, where the thing of which our subject presides will appear more complicated than once thought.

You see, emotion is elementary but complex. It is elementary due to how natural and thoughtless it is. But it is complex because it is hard to understand. Even I do not fully understand its depths.

Some show its side effects more than others, but all have this spontaneous thing. Everyone is born with it. And there is no way to be rid of it.

Or is there?

———————

When Amelia Burrell wished to go on an adventure, she never expected the one that was given to her.

Yes, it was thoroughly enjoyed—actually, quite opposite—but it was an extremely unexpected turn of events for young Amelia.

She was born in the bustling streets of a city where nothing sleeps—somewhat similar to what used to be New York City. She was from a very rich family but was disowned for 'going insane' and 'seeking wasteful adventure instead of a husband'. After refusing to take up her family's company for her own, her parents cut all ties with her. She considered it to be the final straw with her family.

Her story began nearly thirty years ago in the year 2074, when wars were starting to break out throughout the land. Conscription began for men and women, tearing apart families and causing a great uproar.

Amelia was eighteen at the time, just in the range to be shipped off to war. Since her family didn't know about her whereabouts or doings, there was no one to stop her from resisting little as the strong men in thick vests came to take her away.

The days following seemed incredibly boring to her venture-ready mind, but for those around her, those days were absolute hell. They were all awaiting their fate, whether they were happy about that fate or not.

Call young Amelia a masochist, but she knew she was born to be more than an inheritor and wife. She had craved life on the edge—thrills and dangers, unexpected curveballs, never knowing if the next day would be her last...just something exciting. Something to look forward to doing if she was lucky enough to greet another day.

Some would say she was throwing her life away. Her parents had told her that billions of times.

But what was the point in living life vacant of any color?

No point. That was Amelia's answer.

Upon arriving, all those drafted were immediately sent into basic training where all were put through eight weeks of brutal torture in the hopes that the ordinary civilians could become war-ready fighting machines. From there, some were sent to advanced training, while others were sent to their new posts—depending on their future roles serving their country.

Every day Amelia spent covered in sweat and grime made her anticipation grow like fireworks lighting up all over her body. She was ready for action. She was ready to fight.

She just couldn't understand why those around her complained their way through their days.

Weren't they excited to have a purpose?

"Are you an idiot?" a young woman named Hanna hissed, her thick German accent poking at Amelia like needles. Her blue eyes stared straight into Amelia's. They didn't waver for a second.

"Vhat kint of purpose is being forced to kill people just because our leaders are having a shtupid catfight?"

"A stupid catfight?"

"Do you really not know?"

Amelia shook her head.

"Then it is better zat you don't." The woman walked away without another word.

It was as though Amelia was in a whole different world, trapped on the other side of the wall. There was something everyone knew that she didn't. Something that was making them bitter.

Time passed slowly. Amelia felt as though she were awaiting an unspeakable fate. Every second that passed was like the lowering of time on a bomb. Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound in her head was driving her close to insanity. Her legs exploded with excitement and her heart beat wildly in her chest. She needed to get out into the field. She had never been a particularly patient child, and becoming an adult hadn't changed a thing.

Finally, her training came to an end. But packing into the military hover car with ten other citizens was still bitter-sweet.

It had been eight months.

She had lived in the training dorms for eight long months. It had almost become home. But she felt no remorse as her booted foot slid across the car floor, leading the way for the rest of her to fall into her seat.

It wasn't as though she had happy memories in that building. Only the somber expressions of everyone around her were etched into her mind.

Not to mention the overflowing amount of questions that buried all the answers.

They were soon pushed out of the cars and fell into a long line of future soldiers. If Amelia squinted, she could just make out scattered tents sprinkled in the grass.

The hot sun beat down on the civilians, dragging out the hours they stood there waiting. The men in vests stood on guard with guns held in their gloved hands and suspicious looks for all who were stupid enough to stare.

Amelia could have been considered to be stupid for she stared and stared and stared.

Is that who they had trained to be? Emotionless dolls who seemed to view the world through a reproachful lens?

No, she wouldn't let it happen.

She would have her adventure. On her terms. With her emotions. There was nothing in the world that could change her mind.

Then it was her turn. A nurse pushed back a curtain and led her into a small closed off room. A man in a pale lab coat and a mask covering half of his face held out a long syringe. The metal tip glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the fabric walls. The soldiers lining the room around her moved closer, the grip on their guns tightening.

"Wait!" Amelia cried. She pushed the doctor away. "What are you doing?"

His eyes held no emotion as he reached out and yanked Amelia's arm forward. The soldiers stepped closer until they were hovering right above her. When she attempted to twist away, they gripped her shoulders tightly. She cried out in pain.

"We have recently found a cure to a virus that has been around since the beginning of humanity," the doctor recited with a monotone voice. "We believe you will become a stronger soldier for your country if we clear it from your body completely."

Then the needle was in her skin and the yellow fluid swishing around the plastic tube was pushed into her body. She screamed and thrashed as pain like fire shot through her at the speed of light. Before her body could stop throbbing with pain, she was pushed out of the small room and into a line of people waiting to board a plane. She hadn't even taken a single step of her own accord when she fell to her side onto the rough gravel and blacked out.

Amelia was a one in a million—a special case that had never been seen before. The vaccine that was used to rid humanity of emotions had been rejected by her body.

The monotony vaccine was a substance that 'striped a person of their emotions' in a sense. The man who accidentally created it was the first victim to lose what was essentially one of the most important functions in the world. Like a dominos effect, the vaccine was given to one person after another until the government got its hands on it. Since then, it began spreading like wildfire.

Without emotions, the people around Amelia appeared as faceless puppets, told what to do, what to think, and how to act. They became killing machines. Those people who had plotted to resist the new life they were forced into every spare moment were now walking corpses controlled by the government.

Amelia was still trapped on the other side of the wall. But now, for a totally different reason.

———————

War was not an adventure. It was hell.

Fallen men and women painted a picture of red and grey. Thunderous bombs exploded all across the field, kicking up dirt and ash that turned the world black and white.

But the worst part wasn't the atmosphere.

No one screamed when they were shot, stopped as they bled, or cried as they died. They simply lived to die.

But despite the endless days with hardly any rest, they still appeared to be losing the war.

One afternoon, following the descent of the sun past the endless flat terrain, the enemy launched a surprise attack from the rear. Due to the enemy lines clashing from the front, the exhausted group Amelia fought in was quickly overcome. Many were killed but even more were taken captive.

None resisted, not even Amelia.

Upon crossing into enemy territory, the barricade of trucks surrounding the prisoners fell away to reveal a city of twinkling lights. The prisoners were dropped off to be checked by doctors before being led further into the diamond city. Amelia couldn't believe such a beautiful place existed. 3D projections of birds and tigers and whales flew, ran, and swam beside the trucks. Small planes chased each other through the air. People and cars cluttered the streets, creating an atmosphere of energy and life—so much different from where Amelia came from.

Amelia peeped through the small window leading to the driver's area. She gave a gentle knock.

The man in the passenger's seat turned and stared at Amelia with his big blue eyes. They looked just like Hanna's.

She completely forgot her original objective and asked, "Sir, do you know a woman named Hanna?"

The young man's face reflected Amelia's surprise. "I have a sister with the same name, but I highly doubt they are the same person. Why?"

"She has the same eyes as you..." Amelia's voice trailed off. "But never mind, she has an unmistakable German accent and you have no accent. You couldn't possibly be related. Plus, you're both enemies in war."

The man's face appeared conflicted, but he didn't contradict Amelia's words. "You know, you seem different than the others. How come you don't appear hypnotized like the lot of them?"

"Why...do..." Amelia's heels lowered to the metal floor, her face disappearing from the small window.

After a few minutes of tense silence, she murmured, "I'll tell you everything I know if you promise to get these people help."

"Help?"

"Will you do it or not?"

There was a long pause.

"I can't agree until you explain what's happening in your country," he finally replied.

Amelia's lips, blue and cracked, stretched across her face into a straight line.

"Betrayal. That's what's happening in my country. The government has betrayed every last one of us." Amelia's eyelashes brushed against the wall as she leaned her forehead against the cool metal. It soothed her throbbing headache. "Please. Please just help them. I can't watch it anymore." Her voice cracked. Suddenly the car came to a halt, and she was thrown against the metal wall. She crumpled into a heap on the floor.

"Miss? Miss? Are you alright?" The young man called from the front of the car. There was no reply.

Amelia, along with millions of other prisoners of war, suffered dearly for their lack of rest during the long months of fighting. Together with the terrible side effects of the vaccine they were forced to take, over half of those people died suddenly and unexpectedly. They were dropping like flies despite the mass of doctors dedicated to treating these mysterious patients.

Conner Livingston, the man who listened to Amelia's pleas for help that one November night in 2078, managed to get the attention of the leader of his country. Amelia agreed to an audience with this leader despite her fragile health.

Barrett Anderson, future president of modern America, expressed his plans for rebuilding the beautiful country—which had been lying dormant for several decades—as their founding fathers had built in 1776. Anderson had also explained to Amelia how those who had taken the vaccine hadn't truly lost their emotions, only their emotions had simply been pushed out of reach and could be drawn out once again. In return for the leader's help, Amelia told everything she knew about her nation and the best for putting the war down in the grave forever.

ɪꜰ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀʟʏ, ᴍʏ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ɪᴛ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ...ɪɴ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪ ᴀᴍ ʙʟᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ...ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀʟʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ—ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ...ɪꜰ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ, ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴇᴡᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴜꜰꜰᴇʀᴇᴅ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴇᴡᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀᴇ? ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀᴡꜰᴜʟ ᴡᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴏᴅɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ᴡᴀʀ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟᴇꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴛɪɴʏ ᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴇᴀɢʟᴇ ꜰʟʏɪɴɢ ʜɪɢʜ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ, ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴀꜱᴛʀᴏᴘʜᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ.-ᴀᴍᴇʟɪᴀ ᴅ. ʙᴜʀʀᴇʟʟɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 1, 3003