Capítulo 76: Hit the Road, Jack!: Hit 30 Years Later (1)
People get used to things eventually.
Generations change, people forget - even the bigger things.
Thirty years after the Great Prohibition, also called the Great World Purge, everything had returned to a state similar to before the internet phenomenon on the nineties.
The net itself was largely restricted and the entertainment industry had also been mostly destroyed.
Any kind of virtual entertainment, even the simplest DOS game, was totally and completely banned worldwide.
Freedom of speech was a very controversial topic which the new generations were fighting strongly for, while social media and internet chatting were but a dream. Even emailing services were imposed a two-hours delay between sending and receiving, while also prohibited from creating emailing groups. Faxes were weirdly popular on great corporations and cellphones were used almost exclusively for making calls. On the bright side, SPAM mailing had decreased quite a bit.
In a certain sense, it was almost as if people were returning to the late eighties in terms of technology, but without console gaming. It was no surprise for glam rock to be on an all-time high again.
Space exploration was a hot topic for all kinds of geeks, and comic books were a good source of entertainment for the youth.
Videogames were a banished notion, while RPG games could only be played with imagination, nothing else.
GPS services were considerably better than in the eighties, since the tech was there, only not the availability of it to the masses, but nothing was perfect.
Squeam satellites had been thoroughly brought down and many of its high-tech industries and corporations had either been incorporated by the government or outright destroyed.
Still, remnant tech could be found here and there. The governments around the world obviously still made very good use of the internet and cybernetics potentials, so it was needed for people to be educated to create and develop technology for it.
This obviously meant that, occasionally, people who had been educated and knew how to build and operate informatic networks, programs and services would turn to the black market in order to make a profit.
VR Drugs were the most common type of product sold, but other things could be found as well - things like programs to access the military network, web chatting, dark web forums and so on.
Just like how drugs were a big taboo back before the legalization trend became a worldwide thing, all types of informatic dealings so became taboo on the earth of that year.
Christina walked resolute steps towards home.
She, as a daughter of two former Squeam Soldiers, had to constantly prove herself - so, even though she had a natural gift for informatics, in the end she chose to graduate as a mathematics major and went to become a math teacher.
It didn't really matter that her parents weren't "Squeam Soldiers" but, rather, regular squeam workers, unaware of what was happening and powerless to do anything about it.
It didn't matter that they had died back in the attack, without having done a single thing wrong. It didn't matter how her own family suffered for years without end while trying to make ends meet only to receive a pitiful compensation in the end - even though her parents' inheritance had been proved to be free of the "sin" of being the stipend of a "terror soldier", the government still denied to pay it properly.
Her grandmother had sued again and again, and every time the amount the government owned her family increased again and again - without meaning, since they would receive one or two twentieths of the amount and then have no money given to them for some stupid reason.
She was a "Squeam Soldiers'" child and her inheritance money was treated as something she had gained by relying on the blood of others. There were plenty of civil servants willing to make a scapegoat out of her and her entire family. Even on this country where she lived her whole life and which was built upon the former Squeam headquarters.
Her clothes were of good quality, but not superb. Her shoes had a healthy color to them, indicating that they weren't ones she has had to use for too long.
She lived a good lower-middle-class lifestyle.
Still, a calm fury roared inside her chest, while her outward appearance and actions were cowardly and submissive.
Her shoulders dropped, her head staring down. She was like a perpetually defeated captive, as innocent and sinless as she were.
The streets she walked through were busy ones near downtown. She couldn't afford to live on the suburbs, so a rented place in a not-so-good neighborhood where she could live with her husband and grandmother was enough.
As she strolled through the bars and pubs, different kinds of music could be heard, including some heavy-metal like ones. This kind of songs lifted her spirits and quenched her thirst a little bit.
Daring to look a little bit upwards, she finally arrived at an old, five-stories high, three apartments long building. The decoration on the front was old and moldy, whilst the rusted iron metal bars protecting the inner glass doors said a lot.
It was a good thing she managed to get home before noon.
***
- I'm home!
Christina entered the two-bedrooms one-bathroom apartment and dispiritedly said.
- Finally! I'm starving! Go and make lunch already!
- Didn't you eat? I've left some noodles in the fridge. You just needed to heat them on the microwave!
Of course, house appliances were still quite developed, even if, without informatic and advanced electronics materials (many which had become military-use restricted), most of it had stagnated on time. For instance, no microprocessors on one's fridge or television meant they wouldn't be connected their cellphones.
- As if I would eat that shit! It smelled like your grandmas' piss!
- Sorry. I will make something for you to eat. What do you want?
Christina couldn't but drop her head lower and start talking a little faster, while hopping for her husbands' anger to settle.
"I'm lucky to have him" - Was what, amongst other excuses, she always said to herself. It wasn't easy to find someone to date with her identity, after all.
Of course, she could try to look for others who were also sons and daughters of "Squeam Soldiers" but, most of the times, it just wasn't worth it.
It wasn't like places like the "Squeam Memorial and Pride Foundation" would be good for meeting sane people, and going around asking about peoples' past was a bit too difficult in order to start a good relationship with someone. Online dating services didn't exist at all, as the internet was restricted, and blind dating and this kind of things made her want to hang herself. "Better alone than surrounded by Neo-Squeamers" was one of her mottos.
Not to mention it was a governmental policy to separate the many "Squeam Families" from each other in order to avoid "unnecessary associations". Hell knew where she would find someone which could relate to her problems.
- Forget about it. Come over and give me a bl**j*b.
Christina's hands began to shake as she heard her husbands' command. She felt grossed out.
- Common, don't be like that. I just came home. Don't you want to eat something? I can make some meatballs or something. There are ribs in the fridge!
A man dressed in a white t-shirt while pantless, with his hairy half-hard thing tangling to the wind, came from one of the bedrooms.
- Shit, are you on PMS or what?
- I… ah…
Christina looked at his red face and immediately knew he was on it again. That was why he didn't want to get close to the microwave - his shitty headset could become useless with just a little bit of exposure, and he would use that thing the whole day long.
- Tell you what, why don't you get that useless grandma of yours to get some shit done, eh? When was the last time you got something out of the big man? Just that shitty salary of yours can't even buy me a steak delivery.
Christina held her purse with greater strength. She then concentrated on remembering the good times with him. They would go around and see places, do things. He used to work back then, and he would help around the house as well. Even her grandma used to like him.
- Even if I get something done, Douglas.
At that time, an old and coarse voice came from the other bedroom on the house.
- It won't be your time to get a sniff out of it.
An old wheelchair's cracking noise could be heard, as Sasha approached the door and looked at Christina's husband with her big, round, veiny and menacing eyes.
- Tsc. Damn hag. I'm going out!
Christina's husband took a pair of pants from the sofa and went towards the door. He would surely return later, smelling like cheap liquor and whore perfume.
Jack's daughter couldn't help but feel quite wronged by her grandmother. Douglas now would look for another woman to do the job because of her getting on the way. Maybe the real person wronging her was her husband, but she would never admit it.
- Christina…
- Did you eat already grandma?
- No. Your husband wouldn't let me.
The raging flame inside Christina's heart diminished and went to a certain place deeper inside of her. It seemed to have become colder, as she again looked at her grandmother with calm eyes.
- Okay. Come then, let's heat the food up. I will also make some meatballs. The ribs on the fridge need to be cooked this week at the most.
Sasha knew her granddaughter wouldn't listen to her. She couldn't help but by slowly steer her wheelchair all the way to the front door.
As soon as the locks' loud and typical noise could be heard, angry sobbing came from the kitchen, with the sounds of the cutlass becoming increasingly louder and louder.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Desmond_Desfables
Desmond_Desfables I will leave some chapters scheduled for release. Hopefully this will make it better for you guys.
The story will also become a little darker from here until the end of this book, but things might get better afterwards.
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