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> 5th May, 2031 <
“Alarm off” Sophie murmurs, putting an end to the classical music that emanates from the speakers of her phone, its ring spelling the end to a rather poor night’s sleep. Though her rest was undesirably deficient, the girl accepts the new day that has been afforded to her as she tosses the blanket off of herself, wiping the crumbs from her eyes as her hands ball into fists, carrying both arms above her head as she stretches her body as far as it can manage. Her hair tied into a messy bun, Sophie climbs out from her bed and steps upon her rug, the white strands of fabric sliding between her toes as she walks for the door. Through the quiet hall with no disruption, the young woman steps out of the bathroom with a washed face and brushed teeth, carrying herself into the empty kitchen where a pot of coffee awaits her, already brewed and waiting for its recipient. Lowering the porcelain mug from her lips, the yawning redhead rummages through her closet, searching for whatever grey t-shirt she can spot. The messy bun replaced with a high ponytail, Sophie steps in front of the standing mirror near the end of her bed, inspecting her outfit and starting from the bottom. Whilst fuzzy slippers cover her feet, the young woman’s legs are left uncovered, only shielding by a pair of tiny shorts she’d worn to bed the night prior. Though her top appears presentable, its chest sporting a pocket along her left breast, Sophie’s attention veers elsewhere into the reflection, staring back at herself as she looks her mirrored image in the eyes. Drawing a blank, the rest of the girl’s face sours as she glances at the discoloured patch over the left side of her face, its yellow and purple appearance incapable of being missed. Sensitive to the touch, Sophie’s wound sends a grimace-inducing pain as her fingers gently caress the side of her eye, feeling the subtle swelling that looms beneath her soft skin. Taking her seat at the desk in the corner of her room, Sophie’s thumb slides into the fold of her computer, lifting the screen as she sets her morning brew beside her. As the mouse beckons to the command of rolls across a smooth pad, the computer’s cursor is guided toward one icon after another, pages popping up from their metaphorical folders until only a grey screen remains. Waiting a few seconds, the natural light that shines over Sophie’s face through the parts in her blinds is overwhelmed by the screen she looks into, a few brief seconds of loading preceding her arrival into the first classes of her day. “Good morning, students” Mrs. Danielson remarks, her head hung toward the assortment of papers and soft-cover books that lay across her desk, a passing greeting made in the direction of the virtual students. Not joining the remainder of her classmates in reciprocating the woman’s gesture, Sophie takes a drink of coffee from her mug and sits back in her seat, watching her superior stroll from one side of the room to the other. “Alright, let’s- wait, no” Mrs. Danielson remarks, her mind apparently too preoccupied for the day’s lesson, which appears to get the better of her as she struggles to find her place. “Attendance, that’s what I need to do first” she mutters beneath her breath, just loud enough for the patient and tired students she stands before to hear her. “Alright, uh- Sophie” Mrs. Danielson calls aloud, the young woman she calls for taking a moment before responding with an obvious exhaustion concealed behind her reply. “Here” the young woman answers, earning a momentary glance from her teacher before a second look is taken toward her. “Is everything alright, Ms. Amari?” the absentminded teacher inquires, squinting as she looks toward the screen in the back of her room. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Sophie asks back, the reason behind her teacher’s inquiry only apparent when mentioned. “Because the side of your face looks like a horror show” Mrs. Danielson responds, lowering her attendance sheet just a short distance, “do you need to speak to someone in private?” Incapable of holding back her grin, Sophie glances toward the floor as her arms cross, the subtle head shake she hides soon increasing in appearance. “I took a little tumble” the young woman answers, overhearing a few feedback-distorted chuckles as her reply is provided, “I don’t think I need to say anymore than that.” Her expression showing an obvious dislike for the conversation’s result, Mrs. Danielson lowers her face back toward the attendance booklet, calling out the next name on the list. Leaning back in her seat, Sophie glances at the seats around the classroom, a puzzled look coming over her face just as a pair of giggling voices emerge through the crack in her window. Lifting her chin, Sophie glances past her blinds and toward her front yard, her eyes latching onto Izzy just as the young woman dives into the passenger’s side of her boyfriend’s car. Not too far behind, Caden sneakily rushes to take the seat behind the wheel, his jacket carried in hand as he shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can manage. In seconds, Caden assumes control of his vehicle and pulls off the side of the road, driving his vehicle toward their suburban road’s exit in favour of the greater town that lies ahead. Passing a second look at the vacant seats her once-friends had frequently inhabited, Sophie’s core begins to burn, her breaths becoming heavier and more parted as each breath pushed through her nose heats up. Pressing her teeth together, Sophie closes her laptop without giving notice, her screen in the classroom going black as she seethes in her chair, uncrossed arms falling to her sides. Her anger intensifying, Sophie reclaims her coffee mug and leaves her chair, standing over her desk for a moment as her lips rest against the curved rim. Feeling the heat waft over her face, Sophie’s eyes widen as she stares toward the blank wall ahead, a sharp turn toward the opposite side of the room preceding the pull back of her arm. Without taking a moment to consider her actions, the now-absent student throws her mug across the room, its shattered fragments joining those of the standing mirror that breaks beneath the weight of its owner's anger. Groaning, Sophie pulls her head down, looking at the damage that lies before her. Collecting her thoughts for only a moment, the girl’s eyes fall toward the floor, looking at the destruction before finding her reflection in the largest fragment of what remains of her mirror. Her bruised face staring back at herself, Sophie’s angered visage falls out of favour, instead replaced by a disheartened look of betrayal and vitriol, one that brings even a cold chill down her own spine. = Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = > 5th May, 2031 < Wearing a baseball cap, large sunglasses and a pair of grey sweatpants, Sophie exits the luxury car she parks on the side of the road and approaches the entrance to a quiet restaurant. “Table for one, please” the young woman requests, chewing on a stick of gum as the hostess leads her through the mostly empty diner. “A server will be with you shortly” the polite greeter remarks, laying a menu atop the table before pulling away, seating the sixteen year old near the window. Sliding her knife through the second half of a syrup-covered stack of pancakes, Sophie covers her mouth as she chews, the diner having grown significantly more populated over the last half an hour. Paying no mind to the bell over the cafe’s front door now that it’s run nearly two dozen times since her arrival, the discreet figure of public interest retains her focus on the meal before her, an obvious frustration concealed behind her defined facial muscles. “Second period just started” a voice too uncommonly heard, yet too familiar to the young lady remarks, slowly drawing her eyes upward. “As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a crime” Dennis doubles down, lowering himself into the booth across the table, his hands folding whilst his subject of interest pauses mid-chew, looking the man in the eyes whilst leaving her knife and fork held within the hands she holds above the table. The hairs on the back of her neck standing, the diner’s hands lower to each side of her plate, her teeth slowly breaking up what remains of her bite. “Why are you following me?” Sophie quietly asks, her voice kept low as she releases her hold of each utensil, the alarming smile of her unexpected visitor discomforting her. “I’m a P.I, it’s my job” Dennis answers, his posture not changing as the conversation proceeds forward, his visage the only force of intimidation he presents, the rest of his body positioned in the least threatening manner. “Your job involves stalking me?” Sophie responds, looking the man in the eyes as her undisturbed exterior begins to slip, her expressions subtly adjusting to counteract the uncertainty of the circumstances she’s surrounded by. “Even if I didn’t have a licence, I know enough cops in this district to get away with murder” Dennis replies, his demeanour adjusting to display a more friendly countenance to the approaching server. “Excuse me, can I get a cup of coffee?” the man politely requests, met with an appreciative nod from the waitress that passes his table, the cold posture returning to his tall shoulders. “Like I told you yesterday- I’m paid very well for this” Dennis quips, reclasping his hands together as his sights return to his shaken target, “and the people signing my checks don’t even know my name. They’ve got no clue what I look like or who I am. I get to follow you for a living and do it with complete anonymity.” Leaning forward, Sophie adjusts herself as she inches closer in her spy’s direction, voice still kept to a hush as the sound of silverware tapping against ceramic dishes and bowls surrounds their shared dining room. “What’s your fucking end game here?” she whispers, watching the smile line her antagonist’s face in response to her obvious annoyance, “you trying to bust me for skipping class? Huh? What can I offer to make sure you go away?” His eyelids inching closer as his head shakes, Dennis remains silent, allowing the young woman’s concerns to fester as her internal hardships become increasingly difficult to hide. “Do you want money? Is that it?” Sophie wonders aloud, reaching into her small purse before removing a balled up wad of cash, extending it to the opposite side of the table to no response, her investigator’s hands unmoved and unreleased from each other, “whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it if you stop.” Not reacting, Dennis continues to look Sophie in the eye, remaining quiet for a few additional seconds just to watch the young woman’s response to the building tension. Without speaking, the man parts his hands and gently pushes the offered pile of money back in Sophie’s direction, returning his hand to the grasp of the other. “I want more than what you could ever give me. Or, at least- more than what you’d be willing to give me” Dennis replies, slowly pulling back in his seat, his back pressing against the booth’s cushions. “You may be America’s sweetheart right now, but the court of public opinion doesn’t know the full truth- no one does” the man doubles down, watching Sophie slowly guide the ball of cash back to her side, “but I don’t need to know what happened in order to know your story doesn’t add up.” Matching the man’s initial response of sitting back in his seat, Sophie’s shoulders sink into the soft seat as she leans back, the route this discourse appears to take only further deepening the pretzel-like twist knotting in her core. “It could be earth-shattering or something unimportant, but there’s someone willing to pay a lot to fill in the gaps you’ve left” Dennis concludes, pausing to thank the waitress that hands him his brewed beverage, “and I’m happy to get my hands dirty for them.” As her nostrils flare, Sophie parts her lips to speak before remaining silent, the knot she feels within driving her to pull away from the conversation entirely. Taking her unfinished meal and all the utensils she’d eaten with, the young woman scrapes what remains of her food into a nearby trash bin and sets the dirty plates and mug into a bussing tray as it passes by. Without another word, Sophie takes her bag and the wad of cash on her way through the exit, slapping a crisp one hundred-dollar bill on the table as she leaves. With a laugh, Dennis shakes his head and looks into his drink, blowing into the mug before taking a sip, taking little interest in watching the subject of his investigation ride off into the broad daylight. | > 5th May, 2031 < “Order number ninety-seven!” a man calls out from behind a deli counter, his hand raised with two paper-wrapped sandwiches on display. “Thanks, Jerome” Caden replies, leaving his ticket in a small, woven basket atop the nearby glass display case whilst reaching for the packaged lunch. “You got it, Caden” Jerome responds, returning to his duties as his patron returns to his usual table, presenting a half-smile to his girlfriend as he sets the subs on the table. “Finally getting to the end of another year” Izzy quips, unwrapping the sandwich as her significant other reclaims his seat, sighing as he leans against the seat. “I just wanna be done with school period” Caden replies, wiping at his eyes before reaching for his hoagie, “just one more year.” “Oh come on, it isn’t that bad” Izzy counters, picking up the first half of the sandwich before locking eyes with her boyfriend, “do you really think college is gonna be any easier?” Lowering his face, Caden shakes his head in refusal as he finally frees his food from its paper shell. “No, but it won’t come with so much baggage” he answers, pressing his teeth into the loaf before his other half begins to reply. “You’re talking about Sophie, right?” Izzy asks, her answer provided in the form of a nod, “is she still bothering you?” Rolling his eyes, Caden places his hand over his mouth as he speaks mid-bite. “Her existence bothers me” he remarks, lowering his hand to conclude once he’s swallowed his bite, “but she showed up to my house last night, yeah.” Squinting, Izzy’s shoulders shrug as she wipes the corner of her mouth with the knuckle of her right index finger, “well duh, she lives next door.” Shaking his head, Caden finishes his second bite before attempting to reply, his girlfriend’s voice speaking up before the chance can be offered to him. “I don’t really know what you’re expecting” she continues, her words taken into Caden’s ears as he finishes eating, “even if you try to cut her out completely, she’s still just one white picket fence away- or chain link fence, in your case.” “I told her not to speak to me, that’s the point” Caden explains, setting what remains of his sandwich back on the wrapper it was delivered in, “I can’t- in good faith- get any peace of mind when I know she’s just around the corner.” “Is it really that bad?” Izzy wonders back, quickly holding her hands in display of surrender as she respeaks, “I’m not questioning it. You just won’t tell me what she did, and I just assumed it was bad. But holy shit, how bad is it that you can’t even be around her?” His eyes falling, Caden slowly bites into his sandwich before quietly thinking to himself, leaving Izzy in silence for a moment as his mind processes. “It’s bad” he answers, his voice dropping a few octaves as he sulks, an odd low energy emanating from him, “it’s really bad.” “Then why won’t you tell me?” Izzy replies, the question one she’d asked before, though received the same response to at each occasion. “Because you shouldn’t know” Caden responds, wiping his hands as he doubles down, “I know you don’t want me being this ‘protective boyfriend’ kinda guy, but this is just one of those times where you need to trust that I know what’s best for you.” “I know that. I’m sure it is, and I’m not doubting that” Izzy retorts, trying to find her metaphorical footing within the discussion, “but when you don’t say much more than ‘it’s bad’, you kinda leave me in the dark as to how bad it really is. It’s all just a guessing game for me at that point.” “I know, and I’m sorry” Caden surrenders, wiping his fingers with a brown paper napkin as his tone becomes more sympathetic, “I want to tell you, but I don’t want to do it until it’s safe. When it’s safe, I’ll tell you everything- I promise.” Responding with a reassured smile, Izzy nods before reaching for her sandwich, “how did it go anyway?” she inquires, taking another bite. “How did what go?” Caden wonders back, nearing the end of the first half of his hiro as the question is raised. “You said Sophie came over last night” Izzy remarks, pressing her knuckle against her mouth to shield her chewing, “I can’t imagine it went well seeing how pissed you are.” Swallowing, Caden begins to speak before purposefully quieting, his chin going the way of the ground as a strange guilt comes over him. “I, uh-” he begins to murmur, his previously natural tone dropping as it had minutes prior, keeping his voice away from the ears of other patrons, “-I punched her in the face.” Parting her teeth to take another bite, Izzy freezes, able to spot the shame in her boyfriend’s face with minimal effort. “Are you seri-?” she begins to ask, stopping herself mid-inquiry when she affirms the answer to her own question, “Jesus, Caden!” “Like I said, it’s really fucking bad” the young man responds, a final bite-worth of sandwich held in the hand that now falls to his lap as he sinks back, “My mind takes a trip to dark places whenever I just hear her name, so of course shit’s gonna hit the fan when she starts screaming at me in my own frontyard!” Utterly shocked, Izzy’s eyes veer toward the window as she falls silent, her lack of a response not sitting well with the teenager before her. “Please don’t be mad” Caden mutters, a disheartened tone taken in his voice as his girlfriend is quick to respond. “What do you expect me to be?” Izzy answers, her boyfriend’s assumption of her thoughts allowing him to be surprised at her follow-up, “you’re the least-violent person I’ve ever met, what the fuck did this bitch do to you!?” Pulling his head back as his eyes narrow, Caden’s head leans toward his right shoulder, “you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, struggling to process the answer that follows. “Caden, you’re my boyfriend. If there’s any group that should be able to tell whether you’re a good guy, I would be in it” Izzy replies, lifting her sandwich for another bite, “you’re not the kind of guy to rock a chick in the jaw without being pushed to the fucking limit.” His guilt slowly washing away, Caden’s face sprouts a smile, a deep appreciation beginning to flourish within him as the sensation of acceptance comes over him. “Thank you” he replies, biting into the last of his sandwich as the sun just beyond their shared view of the window begins to fall behind grey clouds. | > 5th May, 2031 < “It’s real strong, I’ll tell you that” Andrew responds, pressing his fist against his mouth as he coughs up the smoke taken in from his cigar. “There’s a reason Cuba is known for its cigars, friend” Hugh replies, his arm draped over the back of his couch and around his wife’s back, his open palm resting on her shoulder. “I thought Cuba was known for its dictators- and classic cars?” George replies, sharing a laugh with the small group on the patio of the Stewart’s home. “It is! You’ve gotta travel to work to make cigars, don’t you?” Hugh replies, his query immediately poked holes into by the man just across the slow-burning fire pit between them. “And where do the dictators come in?” Andrew queries, watching Hugh stare into the sky in search of an answer, soon finding none worthy of providing. “Nevermind those people, here’s to Cuban cigars!” the Stewart patriarch replies, lifting his belvedere high in prost, a gesture mirrored by the three friendly souls that share the evening with him. “And to what’s soon to be the last year before our eldest children head off in search of higher education!” George adds, another round of unison salut provided, though with ample humour. “Getting tired of Caden already, Geo?” Andrew jokes, watching the man shrug as he pulls another drag off his smoke, “I know it’s only been, like, sixteen years- but you’ve gotta give it time to settle in!” Jokingly waving the source of their friendship’s origin, George lets out a deep puff of Cuban tobacco, tilting his head back as it sinks into the cushion of his chair. “He’s got a car, a girlfriend and enough papers due to write the declaration of independence on” George responds, propping up the back of his head with a free hand, “I think that slow break is starting to settle in.” “Like the empty nest syndrome, right?” Anne replies, holding her cigar in one hand whilst cradling a small glass of white wine in the other, “yeah, I always worried about that day.” Squinting, Andrew crosses his left leg over the right as he pulls a light drag off his own belvedere. “I must’ve missed that class in ‘Parenting 101’” the man jokes, gently leaning back as he raises the question lingering in the back of his head, “what’s empty nest syndrome?” “It’s what happens to parents when their kid goes off to college or gets their own place” Anne replies, her right leg crossed over her left, “the home feels empty ‘cause you’ve had the little ones running around it for eighteen years.” “Or longer if the economy is slow” Hugh jokes, though from a place of honesty, letting out a giggle as his wife gently swats his chest with the back of her hand. “But- of course- Logan wants to do online classes for college” Anne continues, taking another gentle sip from her thin, transparent glass, “so this nest is gonna be packed for another few years at least.” “Have you ever thought about having Logan do classes in-person for the last year of high school?” George wonders out of curiosity, “not that you should or shouldn’t, but the thought crossed my mind to let Caden stay home if he wanted.” “But Caden wouldn’t stay home now that he’s dating Izzy” Anne corrects, attempting to answer the question before her husband’s voice interjects. “That’s the delinquent’s name?” Hugh jokes, letting out a guttural laugh as his wife lovingly shakes her head as her eyes roll, “seriously though, I thought it was ‘Jasmine’ or something like that.” “Anyway- don’t mind the old fart over here” Anne redirects, steering the conversation back to the initial question at the expense of a jab at her humoured husband, “we have thought about it, but honestly, we’re not as fascinated by it as we used to.” “Yeah, I sort of switched up my tune after everything went down with Sophie” Hugh doubles down, his joking ways set aside for the time being, “we’re happy everything turned out well, but even though Logan always being at home doesn’t fill us with glee, there’s a part of us that’s sort of grateful we kept him home since she went missing.” “Besides, the kid still doesn’t fully understand the concept of kidnapping. He thinks he can just choose not to and doesn’t really understand that’s not how it works” Anne concludes. “No, it makes sense. If anything, I’m glad what happened to Sophie can at least be used for something productive” Andrew remarks, taking the last sip of vodka that resided within his glass, “I wasn’t too thrilled with her choosing to go fully online either, but I was more accepting of it after the fact too.” “Yeah, I think we all are” George reassures, a displeased look on his face at such an admission, “I think we’d all prefer that our kids experience the world we had growing up, but it’s that sort of weird guilt we have to admit that we’re all a lot more satisfied with the alternative in the wake of everything that happened.” “I’ll drink to that” Hugh replies, setting his cigar upon an ashtray and wrapping his fingers around a glass of single-malt whiskey, lifting its rim high into the air. “I’ve got nothing in my glass, but cheers all around!” Andrew replies, following Anne’s silent lead to round out the group. “Shit is the bottle empty already?” Hugh whispers to his wife, her head turning to face his direction as her eyes narrow. “Honey, the bottle was almost empty when we broke it out” Anne replies, her response enough for the man to redirect the concerns. “I think we have another full one on the bottom shelf of the liquor cabinet” Hugh explains, guiding Andrew in the direction to travel, “in the kitchen, past the counter, there’ll be a cabinet against the first wall you pass on the way in.” “Got it, I’ll be right back” Andrew replies, excusing himself into the home as he leaves his glass behind, still sober enough to maintain his balance on the way through the lavish, well-decorated interior of the couple’s home. Surrounded by pieces of glass moulded into curvy, enviable shapes, bright bulbs provide each hallway with enough light to the point where sunlight is barely necessary, the marble floors audibly providing each step the father of two takes. Finally rounding the nearest corner, Andrew finds the spacious kitchen he’d been directed toward, his eyes falling upon the redwood liquor cabinet just to his left. Whistling as he reaches for the first bottle of vodka he finds, Andrew turns to leave, passing the kitchen’s large island on his way before pausing, taking a step back as a small, white card catches his eye. His eyebrows narrowing, Andrew sets the alcohol on a stool and picks up the thin piece of paper, his eyes scrolling over the blue text that sits in the note’s centre. “Dennis Eaton” the man whispers beneath his breath, a visible look of displeasure rolling over his once-cheerful face. Shaking his head, Andrew slides the card into his back pocket and retakes the bottle, returning to the joyous gathering with his best attempt at a smile, a subdued sensation of irritation running through his body. == Generation Alpha ==
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Season 2 Premiere
> 3rd May, 2031 < With her hands coupled together atop her lap, Sophie stares ahead with a blank face and cold eyes, her retinas focusing on the lips of a woman sitting on the other side of a long, wooden desk from her. One ear covered by the cushion of a pair of headphones, the young woman’s mind occupies a dull space, one that drowns out the slightly-older woman’s remarks. Tapping the tips of each finger against the desktop, the rambling lady continues to talk, her ears covered by the same brand of headphones as her guest, the microphone she speaks into no different from the one in front of Sophie. Each word the host has to utter appears calm and reflective, though the story she spins goes completely ignored by the younger woman across from her, each word ignored, and the greater point she’d worked to reach is entirely dismissed. Feigning interest through a half smile, Sophie continues to let the woman ramble with no interest in interrupting her, preferring to let the woman think she’s receptive to whatever nonsense she rambles about in the moment. Waiting for the social cues she looks for, the strawberry blonde figure of public support resides within her own world, one where no voice matters aside from her own, and the patience she presents is only offered out of obligation. Glancing toward a monitor near the front of the room, Sophie registers her reflection and that of those she surrounds herself with, a pair of men in casual wear shown on screen just to her left. With a glance over her shoulder, the woman locks eyes with the foremost man, his head nodding as the speaking woman continues to talk. From behind his glasses and patchy facial hair, the responsive gentleman in the white, long-sleeved sweater flashes a grin in his acquaintance’s direction. Not reciprocating the gesture, Sophie redirects her sights toward the room that surrounds her, its many colourful lights and decorative pieces coming together to form a presentable stage in which she occupies. Just ahead of herself and the table, various cameras and monitors capture those taking part in the recorded events, each small movement and gesture etched into history with the most incredible quality video can provide. “But that could be me, I’m sure you can conjure up a very different perspective” the curly, blonde-haired woman remarks, capturing her guest’s attention the moment her eyes veer toward her side of the table. “I would imagine so” Sophie replies, completely incapable of reciting a single line uttered within the last few minutes, “I guess that’s the one downside of being human- you’ll always see something differently from someone else. There’s no universal agreement.” Pressing her lips together, Sophie lets her host resume speaking, confident in her own mastery of stringing her interviewers along at will. “You’re so right. Everything becomes personal when you let people form their own ideas about it” the mid-thirties woman replies, actively redirecting the conversation back toward its origins, “I suppose that’s part of the thing you look forward to most with this documentary?” Taking a backseat to the conversation for the time being, Sophie steers her face toward the long-sleeved man just beside herself, his voice the first to speak up. “Absolutely! I mean, Sophie’s story has been followed for so long, and I can’t help but think that people haven’t really gotten to hear it the way she describes it herself” the man replies, one leg crossed atop the other as his right elbow presses into the side of his chair, “it’s really exciting to make something this raw.” Nodding once more, Sophie redirects her attention toward the host, watching the woman’s eyes settle upon her as the woman’s lips part. “And how relieving is this project for you to make, Sophie?” she asks aloud, clearing the air for the youngest guest of the panel to respond, a half-smile worn amongst her visage. “It’s very relieving” Sophie replies, her eyes panning across the room as she conjures the words to respond with, “to see all the support from people since I came home has been so touching. I’m just really happy to tell my story the way that I want to. Get to paint things from the way they happened instead of the way people report them as having happened.” Biting her lip, Sophie shakes her head gently, passing a look toward the one camera centred upon her before locking eyes with her host, keeping the woman captivated as she nods in the direction of the man behind her. “When Ian approached me for the film, it just felt like he understood where my head was at. He promised me a closure that I didn’t know I needed until then” the young woman remarks, a confident nod accompanying her conclusion, “I’m excited to share that with people.” Standing by her father’s side, Sophie watches the claw of an excavator ripped at the halfway-dismantled building she’d once spent a year calling home. Beside the large, orange-painted machine lies the remains of mangled steel, its contents formerly comprising the walls of the imprisonment the young woman had convinced the world she’d become all-too familiar with. “Thanks for bringing it down so quickly” Sophie murmurs, her arms crossed against her chest as the home her mother had once housed her in is turned to chipped and shredded debris atop a patchy lawn in the middle of nowhere. “There were too many bad memories for me to leave it standing” Andrew responds, his right foot placed further out from his left, his head shaking with a displeased expression, “I wasn’t leaving a monument to your hell standing.” A half-hearted smile replied with, Sophie watches a strand of crime scene tape blow through the air with the aid of a heavy gust of wind, more of the yellow procedural tape just left laying in the dirt and mud. “It didn’t take them long to clear the place, huh?” the perceived victim of such heinous crime inquires, met with a huff from the deepest chasm of her father’s chest. “I’m just disappointed it took them longer than thirty minutes to clear” the man remarks, turning around with his arms crossed as he makes for the passenger seat of the nearest car. “This was as open-and-shut as it can get” the man remarks, joining his daughter in the expensive sports car she takes the helm of, “there was nothing about that woman- or this place- that needed so much questioning.” With the press of a button, Sophie nods along as the vehicle’s engine begins to roar, its wheels pulling out of the dirt parkway of its own volition. “We got done what needed to be done, though” Sophie replies, falling back in her seat as the car’s destination is set toward home, “now we can just move on.” “We’ll do as best we can” Andrew responds, his facial hair beginning to grow beyond the point of control as his growing head of hair presses into the leather backing of his seat. Closing her eyes, Sophie presses her head back and lets her personal ride navigate the terrain itself, leaving the demolition site behind in favour of what rests ahead, set on the path toward the new life she’d wanted at the press of a button. His black, rubber shoes stepping into the place Sophie’s car once stood, a tall white man with a bald head and scruffy goatee steps into the settling dust, his brown khakis coming to a halt with the rest of his legs. Lowering the black sunglasses that wrap over his eyes, the man watches the young woman’s car take toward the open road with a suspicious look. “Sir, are you with the demolition crew?” Ian wonders aloud, calling out from afar beside a small group of camera men, their lens’ focused on the building as it crumbles at the seams. “I guess you could say that” the curious man replies, paying the weak-appearing, small-minded man not even a momentary glance before climbing into his grey car and departing the scene, following the trail left in the wake of Sophie’s expensive set of wheels. = Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = > 4th May, 2031 < The prongs on her fork piercing a small clump of crisp lettuce drenched with balsamic vinaigrette, Sophie sits at the kitchen’s island in silence as her father paces from one side of the room to the other. His arms pressing as many bundles of flowers against his chest as possible, Andrew sets the ample supply of flora atop the nearby countertop whilst his daughter watches on, too preoccupied with her dinner to be bothered in helping. “You don’t mind having the house to yourself for a few hours, right?” the man wonders across the room, setting his eyes on his unbothered offspring, her shoulders shrugging. Shaking her head without a word to accompany it, Sophie remains silent as her father flashes a smile, too tired to do much more than lift the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be back before ‘Liv gets home” Andrew declares, snatching his keys off the countertop before casually departing the home, his flowers left behind. Her eyes pressing close together, Sophie sinks her teeth into another bite of her salad, the kitchen she sits within as empty and quiet as the rest of her home. Glancing to the watch that rests atop her bare arm, the young woman’s eyes take to the time that rests upon the device’s centreface, the late afternoon sunlight that spills into the noiseless prep space colouring the area an incredibly bright shade of yellow. Lowering her chin, Sophie pays little mind to the nothingness that surrounds her, unbothered by its presence just as much as she’s untroubled by the world beyond the kitchen’s drywalls. Sliding her fingers into the band of her denim shorts pocket, the young woman removes her phone and casually tosses it atop her island’s countertop, calling out instructions to the still-dark screen. “Alexa, start video player” Sophie heedlessly commands, watching the screen light up whilst her fingertips latch onto a piece of soggy green that had fallen from her fork and found home on her faded pink t-shirt. “Alexa, search ‘Sophie Amari’” she remarks, guiding her fork through what remains of her lunch as her phone’s presentation adjusts accordingly. “Alexa, play video” Sophie murmurs, not paying any mind to which videos happen to present themselves ahead of the rest as she takes another load of food onto her utensil. Going dark once more, the young woman’s desired video takes a moment to load, only needing a few seconds before following through on its orders. “In this day and age, it’s hard not to know what the biggest headline of the day is. If you’re even remotely plugged in, it’s practically impossible to avoid the daily topic sweeping an entire nation’s discourse” the unimportant host remarks, his buttoned-up, chequered shirt and joining the rolled cuffs on his eternally-moving hands caught by the camera. “Well, when something sweeps the rounds for months, it’s no longer practically impossible to avoid- it’s just fully impossible” the man continues, his remarks catching his viewer’s ear, but not her attention. “Such seems to be the case with Sophie Amari, the Missouri girl whose abduction swept headlines from one side of the country to the other” the gentleman’s voice declares, his bright eyes and energetic expression just enough to warrant his audience’s intrigue. Introducing himself as ‘Max’, the host moves on from his introduction to the chorus of futuristic instrumentals, the graphics to his program clouding the screen for a few seconds before progressing. “Now, it’s been a few months since we’ve talked about the case, but that’s for good reason- there was nothing new to say” the man continues, still only able to catch as much as Sophie’s ear, her eyes still set on the non-existent going-on’s of her home’s interior. “We knew the story, we got the announcement that she was getting a documentary to no one’s surprise, and aside from that- not much else” Max proceeds, his image disrupted every few seconds with pictures corresponding to the case in question, offering his audience little time to look away. “But things have changed just three months later. Our most significant midpoint updates have finally surfaced, and boy oh boy- they’re important.” Leaning back in her seat, Sophie takes the ceramic bowl into her possession before climbing off her seat, the fork that she rests against the bowl’s rim led toward the sink. “Local officials in Gentry have finally called off their investigation, and have reportedly cleared Sophie’s name from any wrong-doing” Max continues on, his voice just barely loud enough to overtake the running water her case’s subject begins to fill her empty dish with. “As for the rumours from a few weeks ago, those same officials confirmed some of the media’s queries within the last few hours” the voice proceeds, “they’d gone into investigate the statements made by Ms. Amari, and believed themselves to have comfortably filled in the gaps many have alluded to residing within the girl’s story.” Scoffing, Sophie shakes her head with a grin as she discards her lunch’s remnants in the garbage disposal, the sink and bowl sitting together in the near-full dishwasher just to the side. “Reports have also come out stating that the home in question had undergone the beginning of demolition the moment it was cleared of suspicion. Those reports were confirmed earlier this morning by visitors to the residence’s site.” With the turn of a knob and the push of a button, Sophie runs the dirty dishes through the wash cycle and returns to her uninhabited seat, the knock at her front door that precedes her return to the stool unanswered. “Though the documentary’s release date draws near, there has been an uptick in public calls for more of the subject’s own testimony to be released than what was simply left in the trailer” Max furthers, “this follows public outcry that the investigation ceased before such response.” Her video interrupted by a second series of knocks, Sophie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, refocusing her sights on the well-produced topic with more intent, trying to drown out the person that awaits her answer. “As this case has reached more eyes, it has found itself at the centre of more and more politicisation” Max speaks further, finally capturing Sophie’s eyes in spite of her home’s plea for reply. “While some voices on the left have argued for stricter monitoring of public school zones in the wake of tighter educational funding, the right have taken a different approach” the video persists, again interrupted by a now-third set of knocks. “Republicans and other right-leaning voices in congress have spoken out against Gentry officials, calling their rather-curious questioning of Ms. Amari both ‘irresponsible’ and ‘reprehensible’.” Seemingly falling silent, the knocks appear to cease, their regular intervals of every twenty seconds passing just as the twenty-first unanswered digit passes. “Democrats have been quick to accuse Republicans of ‘victim-blaming’, whilst the right have defended themselves by calling the scrutinised interrogation a detriment to the overall case” Max continues on, his audience finally settling into their seat at the vanquishing of the repetitive front-door tapping. “The increased politicisation has- of course- resulted in two very divided sides” the host continues, “one side blindly defending the girl’s story and the choice to use such important first-hand account as advertisement for the film, whilst the other questions the girl’s innocence and call for regulations on what sort of material can be used for commercialised purposes.” Reaching across her countertop, Sophie’s thumb presses onto the button on her device’s side as the video goes silent, its flashy graphics replaced with a familiar dark screen. “This is a nice house you have” a rugged voice speaks from the kitchen’s entry, catching the girl by surprise enough for her to jump back, her back slamming into the island’s edge as her phone falls to the ground. With his hands in each pocket, the stranger leans his shoulder against the walkway between the home’s entrance foyer and the dining room. “Who the fuck are you!?” Sophie angrily responds, watching the man’s face scrunch in disgust at the sound of her phone’s screen slamming against the hardwood tiles beneath their feet. “Ooh, that didn’t sound good” the man replies, his bald head reflecting the light of a nearby window. “Who the fuck are you!?” Sophie repeats, hurrying to the flower-covered countertop without an additional word, her hand grasping at the handle to a knife that she aims toward the intruder. “Just someone passing by the neighbourhood. I thought I’d drop by, maybe say hello?” the man remarks with a smile, pushing himself off the wall as he takes a few steps forward, walking further into the kitchen with his wide eyes set upon the young woman, “maybe ask a few questions?” “Get out of my house” Sophie demands, refusing to play into the man’s apparent games as he steps closer, folding his hands atop the island as he claims the seat just recently abandoned. “I spy with my little eye yet another white lie” the man answers back, his eyelids pressing closer together as his head tilts to the left, a moment of self-inquiry coming over him, “or, at least you’d like for it to be a white lie- wouldn’t you?” “Don’t make me repeat myself” Sophie says back, the man’s physical superiority not the source of her worry, though his unwelcome presence and it’s apparent persistence is. “I’m not making you do anything. Under the court of law, I have no legal precedence to make you utter a word” the man replies, lowering his chin just slightly to the point where his ears and shoulders are level, “but what I do have the authority to do is put your claims under a microscope if I so choose to.” Going silent, Sophie remains where she’d taken claim of the knife, not having moved an inch since the stranger had taken over her chair. “And girly, I’ll have you know that I’ve got more than enough reason to choose to” the man continues to speak, a wad of cash held together by the strength of an elastic band removed from his side pocket, “I get one of these every day. Not only do I have reason to put your words under a microscope, but I’ve got reason to rip them apart for every little blunder.” “Who are you?” Sophie counters back, growing tired of the man’s presence as the sound of a car’s tires roll over the parkway’s asphalt, the home’s occupants able to hear them in part thanks to the still-open front door. “Dennis Eaton, Private Investigator” the man replies, sliding a card from the space between the wad of cash before tossing it to the opposite end of the island, the bold, blue letters just barely visible to the young woman at its stopping point. “Sophie, why is the door open!?” Andrew calls out, his keys rattling in his hand as he walks through the home’s entry, tossing the door shut on his way into the kitchen before stumbling upon the troubling scene. “That’s my fault, sir. The door was our only way of fanning out the house when I was a boy” Dennis replies, not only looking toward the man as he answers, his approachable tone doing enough to de-escalate the situation the father had assumedly entered. “Dad, get him out of the house!” Sophie orders, her visible anxiousness and wielding of the blade all the man needs to respond with. “Don’t worry, I can see myself out the way I saw myself in” Dennis replies, lifting both hands in a show of surrender whilst calmly leaving his seat, turning to face Andrew with an appreciative look on his face. “While you’re at it- don’t come back” the father doubles-down, watching the grin emerge from one side of the unfamiliar man’s face to the other. Nudging his head forward, Dennis presents the father a smile before leaving a second card on the newly-vacated chair. “Understood” the private investigator responds, calmly walking past Andrew on his way to the door, stepping down the front steps and to the vehicle on the opposite side of the street. | > 4th May, 2031 < Standing against the side of her home, Sophie watches the untraveled road ahead of her suburban house, it's quiet surface unfrequented for most of the day, bringing a peace she otherwise couldn’t have in the larger city. “Ms. Kirkpatrick is so much fun!” Olivia’s muffled voice speaks from her home two stories above, her half-opened window allowing her sister to hear the conversation from her hiding place in the shadows of her lawn. “I hear she says the same about you, isn’t that nice!” Andrew responds, an enthusiasm in his voice despite the physical exhaustion his body wears. “She’s way more funner!” Olivia answers back, eliciting a breathy giggle from her father as she leaps onto her bed, sliding beneath the yellow, character-emblazoned covers. “She knows all the songs and she wears all the pretty dresses!” the young girl continues, preaching to the choir as her father lifts the blanket up to his daughter’s chin. “She knows every song!?” Andrew jokingly remarks in disbelief, pulling in a deep breath as he shakes his head, the girl’s laughter putting a smile on his face, “well doesn’t that just make her awesome!?” “The awesome-est!” Olivia gleefully replies back, sinking into her mattress as Andrew presses his lips against her forehead. “Then I guess that means you really wanna go to sleep, right?” the man wonders aloud, backing away from the bed as he approaches the window. “Then I can wake up fast and see Ms. Kirkpatrick!” the young girl cheers, affirmed in her statement as her father closes the window, cutting off the outside from the tranquillity of his child’s room. Glancing upward, Sophie listens to their conversation hush greater than before, listening to the glass pane shut before the light above dies out, the blank expression she wears unchanging. Within a few seconds, the sound of rocks being kicked up by the tires of an oncoming car fills the air, the quiet road top increasingly brightened by the set of headlights that only come to a stop at the front of the home just next door. With her nostrils flaring, Sophie emerges from her cover, walking through the lawn and onto the sidewalk as the vehicle’s door opens, only the driver present to exit the car. “What the fuck did you do!?” the girl growls, her arms swaying from each side as she catches the ear of the man ahead, his eyes rolling before they can even attach to the approaching woman. Shaking his head, Caden shuts his door and makes for the steps to his home, the lights on his front porch present as he silently departs the conversation as quickly as he’d unintentionally entered it. “Do you think you can just stick some P.I on me and not think I’d take that as you breaking your promise!?” Sophie calls back, her once-friend turned bitter-adversary wearing a look of disgust as he turns back sharply. “I haven’t said a goddamn word!” Caden growls back, his right foot planted into the ground further ahead than his left, a defensive stance taken. “Whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into has nothing to do with me, so leave me out of it!” the man declares, pulling away to walk the rest of the way toward his front step. “Well someone’s investigating me and you’re the only person that has motive” Sophie argues back, not getting the hint that the subject of her aggression wants nothing to do with her. “The only motive I have is to pretend like you never-fucking-existed!” Caden jabs back, pressing his thumb into the key fob to lock his car’s door shut, “getting some guy to crawl up your ass and ask you questions does the exact opposite of what I want. So get off my porch and let me keep pretending you’re dead.” With a grimace, Sophie watches the man walk a few steps away before speaking out again, drawing his increased ire. “That’s the perfect cover, isn’t it?” she asks aloud, watching Caden slow to a halt before rolling his head, his face falling as she continues to speak. “There’s only one person that knows what happened that night, and all he needs to do is pretend there’s no way he could’ve called a sleuth” Sophie murmurs, watching her assumed culprit turn back with a face full of rage, “that’s some pretty good cover story if you ask-” Already pushed to his tipping point, Caden’s aggravation boils over the edge, his unassuming posture as he approaches quickly turning violent. Pulling his arm back, the young man’s fist rockets into the side of Sophie’s face, silencing her where in the place her proclamation had left off without a moment of hesitation. Forcefully swinging to the right, the muscles in Sophie’s face jolt as her head flies back, carrying her body to a quick fall to the ground, where she remains momentarily- dazed and confused. “I said I’ve got no part in this!” Caden shouts, unconcerned with the volume of his voice as he screams at the woman, her eyes widened as the rest of her mind attempts to comprehend the shot she’d just taken, “now leave me alone or I’ll ruin your life!” With his knapsack in hand, Caden hurls the bag at the front door before catching up with its landing spot, watched on by his victim as he retrieves his carrying case and steps through his front door, slamming it shut behind him. With a groan, Sophie’s head pulls back, the ponytail she’d tied her red locks into pressing against the pavement as she grasps at her face, still reeling from the punch as she looks toward the sky, it's dark contents void of any stars, only shrouded by clouds. == Generation Alpha == |
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