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Season Four Finale
> Sunday, 4th December 2039 < With nothing in the backdrop to hear other than the tapping of the radiator that sits beneath the window closest to his bed, Andrew stares at the ceiling with hands coupled atop his chest and feet crossed over each other beneath the heavy covers that his wife lays soundly asleep beneath. Closing his eyes every few seconds only to blink, the man finds himself no closer to falling asleep than he had when he’d first gone to bed five hours ago. Gently turning his head toward the side, he follows the long curls of his wife’s dark hair as they run down the length of her back, sitting atop the top of the comforter that the rest of her body seeks warmth beneath. Sound asleep, Elaine rests on her left side with her non-dominant arm fully situated underneath her pillow, its cushion providing an embrace for her head whilst her right arm stretches down the length of her side, coming to an end with her fingertips resting upon the top of her thigh. Though unable to see her face, Andrew pictures it as if he were laying on the opposite side of the bed, following the gentle shape of her smooth face across her features whilst considering how warm it would be to the touch, perfectly representing the soul of the woman contained behind it. Smiling, the awake and alert father returns to his back and stares at the partially-lit ceiling, assuming it to be cold to the touch in comparison as it sits beneath the illumination of the moonlight that reflects off the ground outside. Unable to convince himself to close his eyes and keep them there until he either drifts into slumber or hears the pins and needles screech of his watch’s alarm going off, Andrew traipses through the hallway and descends into the living room, where his eyes immediately take toward the kitchen. Running through his normal routine of filling the coffee maker with two spoonfuls of grounds, the man presses his hip against the counter whilst reaching for a shelf above the stovetop. In nothing more than a white t-shirt and a pair of plaid, blue and white chequered pyjama pants, Andrew watches the machine run through the process of heating the water that will inevitably become the one thing determining whether or not he stays awake through the day. Taken by surprise, the man’s eyes take toward the ceiling as he listens to a pair of footsteps venture down the hallway above and take down each step, doing so without a word as the family’s patriarch waits to see who the figure belongs to. “I figured it would be you” Derby remarks, rounding the bannister before advancing toward the kitchen, her appearance surprising the man. “And I figured you were Liv” Andrew responds, amusing the girl as he admits having assumed incorrectly. Reaching for a second mug, the man watches the girl approach and take the island seat that he’d sat upon earlier the prior day. “She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. I promised her that I’d stay awake so she could get a little bit of sleep” the teenager responds, resting an arm against the countertop as she shrugs with a pouty lip, “she went out like a light within five minutes.” Smiling, Andrew looks toward the beverage maker as hot droplets of a warm brew begin to collect within the transparent pot, splashing into a puddle that grows into a lake of caffeine. “How long ago was this?” the man queries, continuing to watch the beverage brew steadily as the girl keeps to her own side of the kitchen, fingertips tapping along the stone surface with a dull and unnoticeable rhythm. “About two hours ago” Derby replies, shrugging as she offers her best guess toward the timing. “And it didn’t dawn upon you that you could’ve snuck a little nap in there somewhere?” Andrew questions, able to see the girl’s reflection within the curved bowl that gradually fills, but paying it little mind. “I told her I’d stay awake and keep watch. I’m not a liar” Derby responds, prompting the man to turn back and glance at her, the lips she presses together as she shrugs once more making her stance on the matter apparent. Without uttering a word, Andrew nods before turning back to watch the drink’s level continue rising, hearing the tapping of it upon the bowl’s base evolve into the splashing of little drops into a wider puddle, only to finally begin collecting well enough to not leave much of a sound at all. “How do you take your coffee?” he inquires, pulling his head back as he watches the dark, brown joe collect to the level he knows it to conclude at, hearing the machine groan as it spits out the last of its hot water supply and begin shutting down its motor. “Surprise me” Derby responds, her posture remaining unchanged as the man collects the pot by the handle, pouring the same amount of coffee into either ceramic mug before carrying one over to his daughter’s closest friend. “I’ll tell you what...” Andrew responds, placing the girl’s coffee in front of her before retreating toward the proper kitchen counter, collecting a glass bowl of white grains from beside the toaster and a bottle of cream from the fridge. “...this is the sugar and this is the cream” he concludes, placing them both a few inches ahead of the girl to the reaction of an amused grin. Letting her choose how to prepare her coffee, the man presses his palms against the counter and waits for her to decide, watching as she picks up the jar of sugar and gently pulls off the lid. “How do you think that I take it?” she asks along the way, amused by the attention that he purposefully gives her more of than necessary, his intrigue in her choice mostly feigned for the purpose of humour. “Like every other young person that drinks coffee...” Andrew replies, pausing his comment with the explicit intent of leaving it unfinished for the moment, allowing the girl to run through the process of preparing her cup before finishing his thought. Noticing this, Derby does as she’s expected to do, gently pouring in the amount of sugar she desires before turning out the lid of the cardboard carton of cream, only to squint before thinking otherwise. Closing it once more before returning toward the fridge, the girl exchanges the cream in favour of the carton of whole milk that she carries back, unscrewing the cap before tilting it toward the mug until satisfied, a confident smirk directed toward the man she aims to defy the expectations of. Reaching toward the centre of the island, Andrew picks out a small, wooden stick from a bottle of others specifically intended for moments such as these, handing it over to the girl that graciously accepts it and begins stirring the contents. “Go ahead and finish that thought” Derby replies, arrogantly holding a smug grin just as the man opposite her does, believing herself to have bested his expectation, “Like every other young that person that drinks coffee...” Gently tapping the wooden skewer’s tip on the mug’s rim, Derby lowers it onto a folded paper towel just off to the side before taking a sip, watched on by the man that continues to spectate. His grin only widening, Andrew reclaims his mug without treating it to anything on the table, letting the steam hit his face as he refuses to break eye contact with the still-smiling teenager before parting his lips, “...not black.” Lifting the hot beverage to his lips, Andrew sips loudly from the mug as the girl’s pleased expression fades away entirely, replaced with the drifting of her eyes toward the ceiling as her head tilts back with the rest of her body, having truly believed she’d bested the man’s assumptions. “One of the greatest tricks someone can master is how to drink coffee black, young lady” the man declares, holding back his laughter as he lowers himself into the seat opposite the girl. “You’re one to talk” Derby counters, returning her enthusiasm to the surface as she rebukes the man’s assessment, “don’t you realise what your generation did to coffee?” Amused, Andrew nods in agreement as his head tilts to the side, the base of his mug returning to the island’s stone surface. “I was born on the first year that Generation Z came into existence and I’ve been making amends for it ever since” he confesses, shaking his head as he looks to the side. “We took the most popular hot beverage in America and decided that our preferred way of drinking it was with ice in it” Andrew continues, watching as the home’s visitor leans forward with a chuckle, her shoulders bouncing out of the voiced irony, “ah well, every generation has their moments where they can’t help but make things difficult on everyone... including themselves.” “What about mine?” Derby questions back, intrigued to hear the man’s insight toward the category her birth had forced her to share with near-billions of others globally, “what did Generation Alpha do to make things difficult?” Lifting his mug toward his face once more, the man speaks as he goes for another sip, doing so close enough to the beverage for his voice to reflect off its steaming surface with a subdued echo. “The older half of you did yourselves no favours by practically never going outside” Andrew replies, another loud sip taken from the drink he can’t help but slowly take down with how piping hot it is. “Schooling was done online, shopping was done online, picking up fast food was done online, everything you’d go out to do was done online” the man comments, swaying his head to the side with each new listing uttered, “most of your friendships were relegated to being held in little apps on your laptops or your watches.” “Weren’t you just as guilty of that as us?” Derby inquires, lifting an eyebrow as she challenges the quality of his declaration, earning a pointed finger toward her direction. “We took part in it because it was new, convenient and we were lazy as hell. And we only did the schooling thing because the world shut down” Andrew retorts, lowering his hand as it returns to wrapping around the ceramic drinkware, “we still knew how to get in the car and drive somewhere. We just chose not to.” “Those sound like excuses to me” Derby responds, bobbing her head from left to right as she mocks the man’s declaration, amusing him enough to earn a placid grin. “Well, the younger half of you made up for that and started new problems” Andrew responds, eyes drifting toward the side of the room as he reflects upon less pleasant matters, “you looked at everything pessimistically. If a shirt was on sale, it was because it had some sort of issue or because no one else wanted to buy it.” “That’s because no one did” Derby responds, watching the man’s eyebrows lift toward her as she proves his point. “Back in my day, the stores would-” Andrew begins to reply before suddenly stopping, going wide-eyed as his face falls toward the countertop, soon being covered by the hands that he frees from his mug and presses into his skin. “Oh my god, I just said ‘back in my day’” he whimpers behind the obstruction that plasters his visage, shaking his head as the girl opposite him laughs before he quickly attempts to regain his prior statement. “Anyway, they’d put stuff on sale to draw people in for the lower price. Then they’d keep putting it on sale so you’d get in the habit of swinging by to see what the new thing you could get was” Andrew concedes, accepting the fate of ageing that he’s openly walked into, “not everything had some malicious intent behind it.” “Stores can’t get away with charging stupid prices for things that aren’t worth it anymore. They put things on sale so they can get rid of the stuff no one would take them up on” Derby corrects, leading the man down a new line of thought she hadn’t expected him to assume in the first place, “I don’t blame you for being out of touch, though. It happens to everyone when they get older.” “The point is that not everything has malicious intent behind it, Izzy” Andrew responds, looking toward the girl with an exhausted face before shrugging, “they certainly do sometimes, but not every sale is about getting rid of the thing no one wanted. Though, I wouldn’t put it past shops to not sell things out of fear that it’d be considered exactly that.” Remaining silent, Derby looks toward the man with lips pressed together, her face not appearing to be carrying an expression along the lines of the conversation that they’d shared. Seeing this, Andrew takes a faint squint toward the girl before jutting his chin toward the side, “what?” he asks, lost for a reason behind her reserved demeanour. Pressing her lips together, Derby leans closer toward her end of the island as she reclaims the mug’s handle, not appearing uncomfortable, but seeming to be curious toward the conversation without much reason. “Why did you call me Izzy?” the girl inquires, watching the man’s eyelids part back to their normal, resting state without warning, the aversion of the eyes beneath them making it clear that he’s retracing his speech to the source of her inquiry, which he very visibly soon recalls. Lowering his shoulders, Andrew’s posture takes on a suddenly glum and sorrowful ease as he taps the shape of his ceramic chalice, pausing before lifting it toward his lips. “I just misspoke, don’t worry about it” he answers, sipping from the drink once more as Derby looks down and nods, accepting the man’s reluctance and hesitancy whilst refusing to question him about it any further, simply choosing to let the curious blip in the discourse’s dictation pass without concern. = 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 = > Monday, 5th December 2039 < Her left foot crossed over the right at her ankles, Sophie spends her day just as she spends each day- laying in her bed with her eyes scanning the pages of a book. One line after another, the inmate progresses through her novel with a slightly less weighted-chest, not feeling the momentary need to glance over the soft cover and toward the door in search of any face looking to do her harm. Taking her time, the inmate feels no rush to carry out her readthrough, making an effort to read each line with the emotion meant to reside behind each word. In unison, a group of people march through the passageway ahead of her cell in the same drab, beige uniform, earning no mind from the woman who simply wishes to be left alone with the comfort of her book and the cosy socks that shield her feet from the harsh cold beyond the prison walls. Trying her best to lose herself in the scene set forth throughout her book, Sophie puts forth her damndest effort drowning out the momentary disruptions just beyond the entry to her cell, wanting to do what she can to finish the read. Not sure of what’s unfolding and not having the slightest care to begin with, the woman forgoes paying any mind to the unintelligible shouts that emanate from beyond the concrete sarcophagus she’s been entombed within, wishing only for peace that she keeps being refused. Focusing more on the words that litter the page like lines sprinting between two lanes of a road, she refuses the distraction any power of value as she begins to picture the characters as they’re described in the story. Letting her imagination run wild with setting the scene laid out before her eyes, Sophie finally achieves her mental isolation and continues to bypass the confrontation that appears to be brewing far away from her concrete box. Depicted caringly by the man who’d written the story, his cast of figures speak like real people and act as if any other would with the cards they’d been dealt, adding to the immersion that such realism brings Sophie a comfort through. Arguing, the two central characters of the story engage within discourse that goes back as often as it rounds forth, sparking an escalation of anger that simmers and boils between the pair in ways that leave the inmate wondering which one will snap first. Too enthralled by the wonder that surrounds her scenery, Sophie inspects each paragraph whilst she reads it, taking every adjective like playful putty in her delicate hands ready to be moulded however she sees fit, and taking every verb as an invitation to let her brain soar in ways that her taxed body simply cannot bear the will to follow. “Sophie!” a woman proclaims as she sprints through the door, bouncing off the hefty obstruction meant to ensure the cell remains off limits throughout the night as she hurries for the bottom bunk. Frustratedly slamming the open pages of her book against her chest as she lets out a loud sigh, rolling her eyes as they take from the ceiling to the hurried woman one level beneath her. “Get your shit! Let’s go!” the sprinting woman proclaims, hurrying to her bed before reaching beneath the mattress, pulling free a toothbrush sharpened at the end to a point. “Cora, what the hell are you doing?” Sophie asks without a care in the world, the only reflection in her voice being brought forward through sheer confusion. “They’re breaking out! Let’s go!” Cora reiterates, saying nothing further before turning back and sprinting through the cell’s exit, prompting the woman at the head of her mattress to sit upright and follow her figure with her eyes as it vanishes around the corner. Puzzled, Sophie overhears the continued confrontation take shape in the farther distances of the prison no differently than any other skirmish that has been carried out within the tomb-like lockup. Lifting her book upward once more, Sophie watches a few more prisoners rush past her cell whilst quietly paying the distant argument her ear, intrigued by the prospect of returning her focus to the novel that presents itself to her like temptation to a weak mind. One by one, a second wave of inmates storm down the hall and pay her quarters no mind, pretending as if she didn’t exist or that there wasn’t anything of value within the silent mausoleum whatsoever. Gently resting the back of her head against the wall, Sophie stares at the doorway and waits for the footsteps to continue running past her like soldiers entering war or for the sounds of relatively normal conflict to advance beyond what would just be considered another normal Monday. Instead, it seems to sound like the scuffle has run its natural course and the screaming match has begun to find cooler heads prevailing, earning a bewildered stifle upon the girl’s judgemental visage. One by one, the prisoners cease their wandering yelps and unruly demeanours beyond the sights of the bookworm they purposefully leave behind, appearing to calm with the storm of composure that had strangely come over the rabid pack. Only further confusing her, Sophie looks toward the ground strangely, seeing the shifted position in which her cellmate had left the bed, truly only rushing in for the purpose of finding a weapon worth wielding. Looking toward whatever distance her eyes can find within their course, the inmate begrudgingly sets her novel aside and tucks her makeshift bookmark inside, climbing down from the top bunk and letting her feet hit the floor. Casually strolling to the entrance of her cell, the lone prisoner standing leaps back at the sound of a thunderous boom that rocks the building, shaking the solid floor beneath her feet and startling her enough to knock her off of them. Slamming into the ground with the palms of each hand slapping the cement floor as she does, Sophie quickly bounces up to a seat as she stares at the door that remains open, hearing alarms fire off throughout the entire building in the wake of the chaos that continues to be met with absolute silence ahead. Quickly regaining her bearings, Sophie throws herself off the ground and quickly climbs back onto the top of her cellmate’s shared bunk, reaching for the loose stone in her wall and pulling it free. Held to the very bottom of the shapely boulder by a decent adhesive, a plastic comb sharpened at the edge to a sturdy point presents itself for her hand to reclaim, allowing her the chance to walk through the open doorway and follow the direction of the chaos that had suddenly died down. | “Yes, I was calling to give you an update on your shipment. I know you’re a small nursery and this is your first purchase, so I want to try and be as up to date with you as I can be” Andrew comments, walking from one side of his kitchen to the other with a plate in hand. Amused by the response he receives from the other line, the man clears the kitchen’s island of the remnants of his family’s breakfast, running the excessively-dirty plates beneath the sink’s powerful, running faucet before placing them in a newly-installed dishwasher. “You made an excellent choice in choosing to do business with us and I’d like to keep it that way” Andrew cheerfully comments, placing a plain, white ceramic dish into the machine beneath his counter before rolling up the sleeve of his green sweater as it begins to slide down his forearm. “The delivery appears to have been delayed after last night’s snow storm, so I’m sorry to have to call you with negative news” the man follows through, “but it should only be a day late, so it’s not that bad of news.” Retreating to the island once more, Andrew picks up a pair of glasses before dropping those into the machine as well, closing the door to it whilst turning the knob just a few degrees clockwise. “Yeah, well it happens all the time. We live in a state with terrible winters and we just have to learn to adapt” the business owner continues, letting free a big sigh as he presses his hands against the counter’s edge, “at least you’re ahead of me! I was planning to sell the shop a few months ago, so I’m pretty far behind on seed orders for next year already.” Smiling despite the news, the man writes off the customer’s good faith attempt at cheering him up before paying him an unimportant, respectful end to the conversation. Having little else to say, Andrew ends the call with the swipe of his wrist and stares at the layers of snow that cover his backyard, seeing the various, circle-like prints that dot its surface toward the side of his home with a grin. “I refuse to feed the deer purposefully so they’ll leave me alone” the man mutters, shaking his head with dissatisfaction as he ventures toward the patio door, stepping onto the terrace that he’d already shovelled hours ago. Displeased, Andrew approaches the staircase with eyes following the journey of the tracks, wearing a disgruntled frown as he watches them lead toward the side of his balcony and suddenly disappear before rounding the side of the home. Puzzled, the man journeys toward the end of his porch and looks over the railing, finding the tracks coming to an end just beneath his feet, replaced by a divot in the snow that leads beneath the terrace. Suddenly less amused or disappointed, the father puts on curious eyes and looks back toward the forest, the colour in his face immediately fading as it goes flush a pale and sickly white, watching the holes too big to be from the hooves of an animal either trail into the woods or traipse out from it. Sprinting through the patio door and beyond the living room, Andrew passes a glance toward the chesterfield as it sits unnaturally farther back than it normally would, the floor it usually sits above appearing completely level and unassuming. Skipping two steps for each one that his feet carry himself upward with the assistance of, the man reaches the second level and immediately charges after his daughter’s room, throwing his shoulder into the entrance with so much force that it rips straight off the hinges. “AHOH!” a pale young man exclaims as he leaps back, turning away from the girl that cowers in the corner of her room as he drops a hunting knife onto the shag carpet, holding up both palms at the sight of the unexpected drop in. Paying no mind to his display of surrender, Andrew whacks the teenaged boy across the face and floors him, nearly knocking him unconscious completely. Woozy like he’d just drunk a pint of absinthe and had been spun around five times before being asked to march in a straight line, the boy looks wildly at the floor that he’d just plummeted to before suddenly coming back into the present mind as he’s lifted from the floor. “Stop! Stop! I’m sorry! I didn’t do anything to her!” the young man exclaims, pleading for his safety behind a bloodied and immediately puffy lip, trying to speak coherently despite not being given the chance. Holding the man by the collar of his shirt, Andrew’s strength becomes the only thing allowing the teenager to remain standing upright, his legs as unsteady and loose as wet spaghetti is. “Who the fuck are you!?” the father asks aloud, demanding answers to the chaos that had been inflicted upon his offspring by the figure that he lifts like a limp and light puppet, only speaking when allowed to do so by the hands that control him. “Ryan! Ryan! My name is Ryan! Please, I’m...” the teenager hurriedly shouts, breaking down into tears as he makes the best effort that he can to shield his face from any further assault. Giving himself the faintest opportunity to inspect the person for what he sees physically, all Andrew finds is the blubbering mess of a sad, weak, and terrified teenager no older than his youngest daughter, and likely a year or two younger than her at that. Snapping up the blade that had fallen from the perpetrator’s hand, Liv crawls away from the figure that her father holds up, freeing the man an opportunity to release the shirt from within his grasp and watch the criminal plummet to the ground with a continued sob. “Do you know this guy?” Andrew inquires, stepping up to his daughter’s side with a finger aimed at the frightened young man that covers his face with his arms and crawls into a ball, earning no reply. Looking toward his daughter, the man finds her to be continuing to stare at the man who’d entered her room to do her harm without replying. “Liv, do you know who this guy is?” Andrew asks again, waiting for an answer before looking deeper into her visage, its surface covered not by a look of terror, dread, sorrow or anger, but taking shape in the manifestation of pure nothingness, not a thought running through her head as she looks toward the cretin laying on her bedroom floor. “Liv?” Andrew calmly repeats, lowering his chin just slightly as he looks at the side of the girl’s face, her emotions not changing as she remains motionless, standing upright and looking down at the defenceless intruder ripe for her vengeance. Remaining silent, the father looks at his child before slowly looking back toward the man in the centre of the room, taking a few seconds of inspecting his continued sobbing before relocating his sight toward the weapon in his child’s hand. Squinting, the father follows the arm that wields the blade beyond the torso of his daughter before finding her face just as frozen in a blankness as it had been when he’d last seen it. Continuing to carry the narrowing of his eyelids as he stares at the side of her face, Andrew moves his lips without uttering a word, motioning them to mime the words “you can fight it” beyond reach of the girl’s ear. Continuing to cradle his face with his trembling arms, the home intruder weeps within the view of the father and daughter as the air goes quiet, his fear too great for him to wish for an answer over the hush stillness that surrounds him. Breathing normally, Andrew continues to look at his daughter as she stands like a ghost, hovering over the potential prey that lingers one tip of the blade away from her like a bad omen for the boy’s future. Her trance refusing to fall, Liv continues to occupy the room like a human statue whilst her father watches on, waiting for what he knows is to come, but badly wishes he won’t have to see. Suddenly taking one step forward, the bedroom’s typical occupant lifts the knife into the air whilst the third party spectates, pressing his lips together and closing his eyes as his head joins the rest of his chin in hanging, disappointment hitting him as if he were standing in traffic and playing chicken with an eighteen wheeler. Unable to bear what unfolds, the father hangs his head in shame as the boy begins screaming, kicking at the floor as he attempts to bury himself within it as if it were dirt, looking for any protection he can from the mercy of the woman who’d he held such vile thoughts toward. Keeping them closed, Andrew’s eyes see nothing more than the darkness that comes over them as the blood-curdling shrieks of horror continue to surround the room, his attention only returning to the scene at the call of his title. “Dad?” Liv softly whimpers, prompting her father’s eyes to widen and return toward the girl just as the rest of his face does, seeing her continue to stand where she had in the moment that his eyelids had rejoined. Surprised, Andrew finds the girl continuing to hold the knife before looking toward the boy he’d assumed she’s already begun the slaughter of, his face filling with dread as it holds upon the girl that retains control of his fate, the rest of his body pressing against the wall to create as much separation as he can. Screaming not out of pain but out of utter panic, Ryan pushes himself against the side of the room without a cut on his body, continuing to dread what he worries is about to happen as Liv’s face begins filling with sorrow, her breaths becoming unstable as her father steps in. Wrapping his arms around his youngest daughter, Andrew softly runs his hand down the length of her arm and wraps his fingers around the knife’s blade, accepting the slices to his palm as a small price to pay for reclaiming the knife from his child’s willing hand. “Honey, get up here now!” the father exclaims the second that he overhears the front door opening, able to feel the shift of its weight take shape in the floor before it even truly leaves the hinges. “Call the police” Andrew grunts, turning his head toward the door that his wife inevitably approaches, issuing his command as he presses his lips to the top of his daughter’s head, Elaine’s feet immediately carrying her into the doorway as she does as told. Hyperventilating, Ryan lowers the rest of his body toward the ground and curls up into a ball, waiting for the arrest that he’s in store for whilst the rest of the present family watches on. As tears flood her eyes, Liv rests in her father’s arms as he kisses her head and rubs her side with his bloody hand, trying his best to comfort her in any way he can. Refusing to take his eyes away from the perpetrator, Andrew gathers his composure and clenches his teeth, taking a brief moment to think of fortune and appreciate that it turned toward his favour today, solidifying his belief that the plague he’s never let slip from his conscience once is as capable of being conquered as he’d held out the hope that it would be. == Generation Alpha ==
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> Wednesday, 30th November 2039 <
Struggling to keep her eyes open, Elaine sinks into the passenger seat whilst her van’s controls reside within the hands of her husband, allowing her the chance to quietly fight off the urge to drift into as comfortable of a slumber as she can position herself into. “We’re almost home, sunshine” Andrew remarks beneath his breath, freeing his right hand from the wheel so it can gently rub his wife’s thigh, his attempt at comfort bringing a smile over her face. “You’re going to have to carry me” she whispers, laughing quietly as her husband’s face wears the smile that results from his amusement. “I have a feeling I’ll be carrying you inside whether you’re awake or asleep, so you might as well stay awake and amuse me the rest of the drive” Andrew rebuttals, sharing his subdued humour with the woman as he rests his palm on her leg, eyes remaining glued to the road ahead that they’re on the home stretch of their journey down. Looking toward the various treetops that she finds passing by through her window, Elaine takes notice of the night sky and its nearly pitch black display, able to see the faintest amount of deep, blue light emanating above that the woodlands’ outline appears through. For a full minute, the woman looks through the transparent divider between herself and the outside world before groggily turning her head toward the driver’s seat, resting the side of it against the cushioned upholstery the van’s interior is finished with. “I’m really proud of you” Elaine comments, watching the man’s eyes take toward her for only a moment before returning to the dark road that only his headlights provide illumination to, his car being the only one on the road for almost a mile. “I know I let the car’s autopilot take control most of the time, but I still know how to drive, dear” Andrew responds, earning a rejuvenated smile from the woman off the back of his humour, “I’m very capable of getting us home safely.” “You know what I mean” Elaine replies, letting her teeth present themselves to the man as he takes another glimpse toward her, his sarcastic wit falling aside in favour of a heartfelt shrug as he sets his eyes upon the soft corner he takes the vehicle down. “She’s my daughter” Andrew replies, pulling the car off the highway and onto the exit ramp, only a few turns separating them from a late-night return home, “it took some time, but I had to come around to that someday.” Writing off the act as if it were no different than doing a stack of dishes in the sink to prevent a second pile from forming, Andrew’s leg-resting hand falls beneath his wife’s warm palm, her thumb gently running down to his wrist before pulling back to the rest of her mitt. “Today may have been the biggest step that you’ve ever taken in your life” Elaine corrects, leaving her statement open-ended for a few seconds as her husband waits for a follow-up that refuses to present itself. With another second-lasting glance at his wife, the van’s driver sets his sights upon the road ahead before sitting with the woman’s remark, letting it fester within his mind like a fungal disease spreading throughout the nervous system of its host. “You haven’t had an easy life, Andrew. The mother of your first child was too sick to be there for her, and the mother of your second never got the chance to be” Elaine finally begins speaking further, her words hitting the exact chords within her husband they’d been meant to. “You raised two beautiful girls all on your own. You gave them and yourself a chance to live a good life” the woman continues, watching the muscles in her husband’s face begin to lower as he takes the next turn in their journey back home. “There’s a part of you that blames yourself for what happened, and I understand. But you shouldn’t” Elaine continues freely, lifting her husband’s leg from her lap before taking it into her hand, holding it with all the love and compassion a spouse is looked toward for. “Sophie got herself into a mess. She’s paid the price for it now. It’s not your fault that she made the decisions that she made” she remarks, her ears spiralling through the air like warm breath before taking toward her husband’s ear, “all that you can do is accept what happened, put on a brave face, and live the life you have now for the people that you live it with.” Repeating the woman’s final line internally a few times over, Andrew holds the woman’s hand tight whilst hitting the turn signal, readying the vehicle for the left that he slows to take at the same time that he turns his head toward her. “You’re wrong...” the man whispers, coming to a complete stop at the red, octagonal sign at the meeting point of two streets into one, an apologetic face held toward the reassuring woman whose eyes fall disheartedly, “...it’s entirely my fault.” Letting her lower lip fall from the one above it, Elaine watches her husband’s face take back to the road ahead as he makes the turn, a wave of sombre displeasure falling over her without being afforded the opportunity to last. “What on earth is this?” Andrew wonders aloud, his apologetic expression instantly replaced with a look of curious wonder and worry as he takes down a street littered with police cars, their lights all flashing throughout the neighbourhood in a hauntingly familiar way. “Are they at our house?” Elaine wonders aloud, squeezing her husband’s hand tighter as he pulls the vehicle to a stop in the middle of the street, throwing it in park before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Sir, you can’t park in the middle of-” an officer remarks, stepping away from the Carrion residence in favour of addressing the parents that climb out of their car and advance upon the home. “That’s my home and that’s my daughter! I’ll park wherever I damn well please!” Andrew angrily shouts, pointing in the direction of his property as he interrupts the policeman, “what the hell is going on here!?’ Refusing to be pulled back by Elaine’s much calmer and forgiving reach, the father retains his confrontational nature as he goes on the defensive whilst those gathering on the porches of surrounding homes watch from afar. “Dad, I’m fine! This has nothing to do with me!” Liv proclaims, climbing off the house’s front steps as she offers the only reassurance she knows her father to be interested in. “Sir, we were called here at the report of a breaking and entering. If this is your home, we’ll need to ask you some questions and direct you to the proper channels of filing police reports” the officer explains, holding one hand toward the visibly irate father in a gesture to calm him down. “I can’t help you with anything, however, if you leave your running car parked in the middle of the road” the professional continues, speaking with enough composure to gradually lower the man from the edge of confrontation that he’d propped himself upon, “I’d be happy to have our cars moved if any of them are in your spot. But I need you to park your car or get it off the road so our officers can continue patrolling the area.” “Patrolling the area?” Andrew asks with a squint, feeling his wife’s hand gently push against his chest in hopes of returning him to the vehicle whilst Liv and Derby continue to slowly approach, “you mean the man broke into my home and got away?” “Sir, we can-” the officer remarks, attempting to continue his defusing of the situation before watching the father wave him off. “Yeah, whatever! I’ll go park my fucking car” Andrew begrudgingly concedes, shaking his head disapprovingly as his wife stays behind, watching the man saunter off before spinning around toward her daughter, who holds her eyes upon the ground with her arms crossed over the open robe she’d put on above her pyjamas just before the police arrived. “They’re both alright” Derby remarks, speaking on her reserved friend’s behalf with hopes of reassuring the polite woman that remains within their presence, “the guy broke the front window with a rock, but Liv says that was it. He didn’t take anything.” Not appearing to be shaken, Liv remains fixated on the ground whilst her father walks off, her mother’s arms wrapping around her as Elaine pulls the girl into a hug. “He wasn’t here to steal anything” Liv confesses in a low voice, the officer’s displeased expression looking into the distance at the information he’s already become privy to whilst Elaine sets her eyes upon her daughter’s face. “He was here looking for me” she concludes, seeing the slight shift in her mother’s eyes as they read the way in which her demeanour stands, taking her claim to heart with a look of great concern at the lack of change in the victim’s posture. = 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 = > Friday, 2nd December 2039 < “Have you been trying to hide from me?” Denise inquires, having walked past the open door to Sophie’s cell before taking a second glance in and deciding to address the girl, who props herself up on both elbows from the top bunk. “No, why?” the younger inmate questions, watching the more experienced prisoner step foot into her confines with hands reaching as far out as the concrete walls will allow them to stretch, her head looking toward the ground before shaking in disapproval. “You’ve been a difficult woman to stumble across, that’s why” the older brunette responds, gradually making it closer to the girl’s bunk as she speaks, “after the kind of chat we had a few weeks ago, it doesn’t seem very polite to just go around trying to hide in plain sight.” Reaching up to rest her arm upon the edge of Sophie’s bunk, Denise comes to a stop at the base of the woman’s bed, looking her in the eyes as the younger prisoner pushes herself further up, crossing her legs into a seat. “I’m in this bunk every day when I’m not working. It’s been this way since I got into the prison, and it’ll stay this way until I leave... You know that” Sophie confidently responds, keeping her voice low enough to free itself from any potential ears beyond the entrance to her cell. “If you had a tough time finding me, it’s because you weren’t looking hard enough” the girl concludes, watching a smirk sprout upon her visitor’s face as she circles back to the point of her drop-in, “but I’m here now, so what do you want to talk about?” “You’re not still buying into this idea that good behaviour will get you out of her quicker, right?” Denise queries, holding out hope that the younger inmate had come to see the light that took her so long to find. “The guards leave me alone. They let me do my shit just like the rest of you do. That’s all I ask for and it doesn’t cost any of you anything to give it to me” Sophie responds, sliding across the thin mattress before dropping to the floor, coming to eye level with the prison’s old guard as a member of its new one. “Good behaviour probably won’t get me out of here early, but it’ll make life a lot easier” the girl continues, allowed to offer her case by the prison’s veteran, who looks the girl up and down with an eyebrow raised. “You say that like we can’t make up for that” Denise retorts, pressing her back against the cement wall before crossing her arms, the comment that she makes bringing a squint upon the younger woman’s eyes. “Is that supposed to be a threat?” Sophie quips back, her head leaning toward her shoulder as the tip of her tongue presses against the inside of her bottom lip, watching as the woman opposite her feigns an innocent shake of the head. “Of course not. I’m just reminding you that it’d be a lot easier if you decided to do away with this neutrality stuff and realise that it gets a lot easier in here if-” Denise explains, speaking with her hands before finding her line of speech interrupted by a question. “What is it that you want from me?” Sophie probes, the slight scrunching of her face replacing the muscles that she’d relaxed when provoked into a verbal defence, more intrigue being drawn from the question than anything else. “Oh, come on now. Why does it have to be like that, Sophie?” Denise questions back, smiling toward the woman whilst taking her turn to tilt her head to the side, seeing the fake amusement take shape in the younger inmate’s face as her head shakes. “It doesn’t have to be, but it is...” Sophie responds, returning to her inquisitive expression as she centres her attention upon the explanation yearned for, “...now spill it. You’ve been fine with leaving me alone for seven years, now I’m suddenly the hottest commodity on the block. What is it that I have and you want?” “You’re sure you’d rather not pretend that I’m just trying to look out for the best interest of my fellow inmate?” Denise questions aloud, lifting her eyebrows whilst the subject across from her remains adamant in her desire. “There’s something I have and you want it. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want either of us leaving this cell until I find out what it is” Sophie responds, crossing her arms just as the woman across from her does, “if I’m in the market to fork it over, maybe we can work something out for the both of us.” Uninterested in the spiel of word salad that Sophie’s verbal pondering presents, Denise fights the urge to roll her eyes throughout the woman’s entire line of speech until the very final sentence, one that inspires a humoured squint in the older inmate’s eyes. Lifting her chin just slightly, the old-guard prisoner inspects the younger inmate’s visage in silence for a few seconds before clicking her tongue with a nod. “You’re not very willing to play ball with the rest of us, but you would be willing to throw us the ball and let us play by ourselves?” Denise quips, moving the tip of the muscle just above her jaw into the corner of her mouth with a grin, “that’s interesting... I respect that.” Unmoved by the exchange of valueless regard, Sophie glances toward her side and leans against the bunk, pressing her shoulder into the metal beam that supports the upper level that her mattress sits upon. “You’re sure you’d rather play nice than actually try to get out of here?” Denise double-checks, the simple nod that she receives giving her all the response that she needed to hear. “Alright then, I’ll cut it to you like this... I want your shiv” the older inmate concludes, watching the younger contemporary squint with a feigned look of confusion that the propositioner isn’t keen on allowing to slide, “you know what I’m talking about. It’s the one that you made in your first month here... I remember.” Averting her eyes, Sophie stares at the wall that her toilet sits against for a moment before being gestured to return her sights, the pair of fingers that her visitor holds in front of her sight and pulls back toward herself silently making such orders clear. “You’re not denying it and that’s good. The last thing I’d want you to do is try to lie to me... That shows me you’re serious about this” Denise comments, being immediately met with the confrontational attitude of a girl trying to keep her more aggressive impulses at bay in the name of appearing peaceful and cooperative. “I’d rather not get myself into trouble that I don’t need, so it’s within both of our interests that you understand this very clearly” Sophie warns, retaining the cross of her arms as Denise lowers her own, letting both hands fall by each side. “I’d rather not speak in absolutes, so here’s how we’re going to play this...” the younger inmate comments, being indulged by the older woman, who’s invested too much of her time not to see the line of dialogue through. “...No, Denise. I don’t have a shiv” Sophie remarks, puzzling her elder with the reply before following up on it, “but let’s just say that I theoretically had a shiv... If I did, what do you want it for, why can’t you make your own, and what’s in this for me?” Smiling, Denise remains purposefully backed against the wall as she again looks at the girl from her socks to the top of her slightly-shorter head. “I always knew there was something I liked about you, Sophie. You’re good at this” the experienced inmate quips, putting a smirk on the face of the girl that’s flattered by how impressed the career criminal across from her is. “For a start, I can’t make my own shiv because the guards won’t let me bring stuff back to my cell anymore after what happened to your old roommate...” Denise answers, beginning the process of addressing each concern individually, “...sorry about that.” Momentarily grinning as if to offer any reaction to advance past the answer, Sophie continues to hear out the woman, passing a glance toward the daylight that continues to shine just beyond her barricaded window. “If you knew what was best for you, I’d not ask why I’m looking for one again. I’ll give you a pass this time, but don’t ask again” Denise carries on, “as for what’s in it for you, go ahead and name your price.” “I want to be left alone” Sophie answers rather hastily, not mincing words with her request, but still receiving a confused look from the woman across from her. Lowering her chin, Denise stares at the inmate with a confused glare before passing a look toward the cell’s door, watching a pair of inmates stroll past the room without taking any notice of them. “You will be. I’m only bothering you because I want your shiv” Denise responds, unsure of why the woman would ask for something that she already has. “And I want to make sure that I’ll never be bothered about anything again. All the way up until the day I’m released, I want to not be bothered by anybody for anything” Sophie reiterates, firm within a request that feels more easy to fill than anything the prison veteran had ever been approached with before. “That’s it?” Denise doubles down, almost feeling like the offer is something too good to refuse, holding back the question within her mind of whether or not she even wants to take such a lopsided deal out of pity. “If you know how to keep your friends out there abiding by your rules, then it shouldn’t be too much to ask for” Sophie assures, doubling down as she gently pushes off the bunk, standing upright once more as her arms fall, “I’ll give you my shiv in exchange for permanent peace... Or, I would if I had one.” Puckering her lips just slightly, Denise looks quietly into the eyes of her fellow bartering inmate before nodding with a hand extended, “you’ve got a deal” she concludes, putting her money where her mouth is. Reciprocating the gesture, Sophie lets her palm fall into the possession of the woman before climbing atop her bunk and sliding a brick free from within the wall, where she retrieves a jagged piece of metal from within, returning the stone to its rightful place as she climbs down. “Walk around me and turn your back to the cell’s door” Sophie remarks as her feet make contact with solid ground once more, moving aside to grant the older woman free passage. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so a long time ago” Denise replies, doing as instructed with both hands raised, showing surrender to the woman that proceeds to slowly offer the blade. Taking it into her possession, Denise tucks the shiv into the fabric of her clothing before stepping back, returning to the commons with a smile on her face. “For the record, I really do hope you get out of here soon, Sophie” the inmate comments, feeling the freedom to speak as she chooses now that she’s gotten what she came for, “there’s something about you that’s being wasted here. I’d hate to see your talents keep getting squandered.” With that, Denise turns the corner and begins marching down the corridor whilst the inmate she leaves behind watches on, feeling a weight of relief come over her chest as she lets free a deep breath the second the natural brunette’s figure vanishes beyond her sight. Feeling deeply uncomfortable with the agreement that she had made, Sophie hangs her head and lowers herself onto her roommate’s bed, trying to compose herself from the nerves that arise with the deal she’d followed through on. | > Saturday, 3rd December 2039 < “She won’t come out of her room” Andrew remarks, climbing down the stairs in a blue t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweatpants in disappointment, his palm sliding down the length of the bannister as he descends each step. “Andrew, trying to lure her out with pancakes isn’t going to work the way you want it to” Elaine remarks, returning to the stove that her pan sits atop with a spatula in hand, the tie around her waist closing a red, velvet robe over her white, long-sleeved t-shirt and light blue shorts. “She’s going to have to eat eventually” Andrew responds, traipsing from the living room to the kitchen with only a pair of moccasins covering his bare feet, “the only time she’s come out of that room since Wednesday was to use the bathroom.” More occupied than usual, the kitchen’s island leaves Andrew one seat uncluttered from anything else, which he pulls out and sits upon whilst rubbing his eyes. “I can’t say I blame her. I don’t think I’d be any better if what happened to her happened to me” Derby responds, her black t-shirt and sweatpants accompanied by the blue socks she wears on either foot in a surprisingly odd juxtaposition to each other. “I’m sorry, Derby. I forgot you were still here” Andrew remarks, pulling his hand away from his face as he tries to make himself appear more awake and alert, his hand gently coming to a rest on her shoulder, “thank you for looking out for her.” Reaching back, Derby pats the man’s hand whilst wearing a smile, her dark locks of hair tied into a ponytail that swing with the redirection of her face. “Thank you for letting me stay over for as long as you have” the young woman replies, reclaiming the fork that sits upon her maple syrup-covered plate as she slices at a lone, fluffy flapjack. “Your presence has been appreciated more than we can ever repay you for” Elaine replies, scooping up a smaller pancake than the ones that she usually makes before gently placing it upon Galen’s plate and shrugging her chin toward her husband. “Seriously, you’re just about the only person she’s willing to say more than a few words at a time to” Andrew remarks as he climbs off his seat, continuing to address the visitor as he picks up a glass bottle of syrup and approaches his son. “That’s because she’s not really hiding away from anyone, she’s just hiding in general” Derby responds, swallowing the bite of her breakfast treat before running the side of her fork upon the new corner her last bite had created. “The guy said he’d be ‘seeing her around’ and knew her by name. I don’t know if there’s anything more horror movie-like than that” the younger visitor continues to explain, “she’s just staying somewhere that’s small enough to guard since there’s not really much else she can do.” Pouring the syrup into a small, plastic cup, Andrew gently pats his son’s hands away from the flapjack before retrieving a butter knife and slicing into the treat, breaking it into little parts for the kid as the room goes quiet. Afforded the opportunity to think whilst he prepares his son’s breakfast, allowing his mind to take a brief trip to the most violent pockets of thought as his care for speaking ill begins to fall aside, falling out of favour as he angers himself the more that he thinks about the aggressor responsible for doing his daughter wrong. “You’d cover for me if I found the guy and ended up killing him, right?” Andrew wonders aloud, resting his hand against the countertop as he hands the fork over to his son, pressing his weight against his side as the air grows quiet. Unphased by the knowledge that he’d spoken aloud when asking the question, the father casually turns around to face the pair that look to them, neither face appearing to take on concern of any sort, but host looks of curiosity. “I don’t mean to concern either of you, but if I found out who this person was and had them locked in a room with me...” the man continues, explaining himself before being interrupted. “Absolutely” Derby replies, wasting little time in throwing her hat behind the man’s cause, her adamance recognised and viewed appreciatively through the smile that she wears. “I know it’s not a comfortable subject, and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping boundaries, but I wouldn’t hesitate” the young woman continues, watched on as Elaine lifts the pan from the stove, lifting a pancake off the hot surface that she’d intended to place upon her husband’s plate. “I don’t suggest we go out hunting for the guy, but he’s a danger” Derby doubles down, looking toward the woman that remains silent as her eyes hold upon the girl, “if your hand was forced, I wouldn’t blame you.” Seemingly holding no change in her expression, Elaine presses her upper lip forward before turning toward her husband, eyes locking with the man that soon takes her visage toward him. In silence, Andrew stares at his wife as she looks back to Derby for just a moment before again resetting her focus upon the man across the room from her, a curious look taken in her visage this second time around. “What?” Elaine wonders aloud, furrowing her brows as she takes the spatula toward the man’s plate, lowering the flapjack onto the ceramic surface before returning her stovetop accessory to the glass burner. “Would you cover for me?” Andrew inquires, watching the woman’s head jut forward as if lost in translation at what’s being asked, “he’s broken into the house once. How can I guarantee he won’t try again?” “Are you really asking me that?” Elaine quickly wonders back, watching her husband’s head pull back just slightly as a guilt suddenly comes over his stomach, prompting his eyes to avert as he takes on the sudden realisation that he may have overstepped his boundaries. “I’m your wife, Andrew. The asshole’s tormenting my daughter too...” she doubles down, sparking a renewed confidence in the man that suddenly no longer feels a need to hang his head, “I’d probably kill him before you got the chance to.” “And I’d help you bury the body!” Derby proclaims, just as unyielding in her support as the man’s wife is, earning a subdued smile upon the father’s face. “I never stood for Coleen and her friends pushing Liv around before she felt comfortable enough to fend for herself. If you think I’ll let whoever this asshole is get away with any of this... you’re wrong” the alternative visitor remarks whilst Elaine pours another flapjack onto the stovetop’s pan. Nodding his head before letting out a genuine laugh as Galen drops his fork to begin applauding the apparent good spirits that the rest of the room is in, Andrew sits with this conclusive declaration as the rest of the home goes back to its business, carrying on the day as if nothing of note had happened. Reassured, the man lets out a deep breath before resting his hand on his son’s shoulder, patting it like a proud father whilst the kitchen resumes it’s morning routine, carrying on with the Saturday morning just as it would any other. == Generation Alpha == > Wednesday, 30th November 2039 <
Her face flushed of colour other than her rosy red cheeks and puffy eyes, Sophie stands just feet away from the entrance to the commons area, unable to move as every inch of her muscles tense up and refuse her freedom. Unsure of how to react beside standing in the middle of two tables, Andrew stands with his hands at his sides as his face wells up with similar emotions, his mind retaining the hesitancy to address the girl whilst fighting off his urges to approach. Unable to control the quivering of her lip, Sophie looks at her father before finding the strength to redirect her face toward the woman who’d accompanied him, her face filling up with similar disposition. “I’m...” Andrew mutters, setting his sights toward the ground at his feet as his hands tuck themselves away into his back pockets, the demeanour he wears changing from the uncertainty over what to do, and shifting into the reservation of someone scared to make the first move. Pressing his lips together before hurriedly parting them, only to return them to the warm embrace of each other once more and repeat the process, Andrew fails to speak before watching his eldest offspring take a lone step forward. Eyes taking toward her feet, the father’s eyes eventually lift toward Sophie’s face, watching her body as it struggles to take another step forward, attempting to break out of the grasp of consternation that wishes to keep her at bay. One after another, the inmate’s advancing steps cut the space between her father and herself shorter, each second bringing another foot of distance that once stood between them to the distant past as she ventures forward. Becoming more confident in her stride with each progression of her walk, Sophie’s breaths become less controllable as her father’s face further soaks in salty sobs. “I’m...” Andrew whimpers again, turning his head toward the right as his daughter continues her journey across the room, reluctant to welcome the girl out of disappointment in himself. Letting the tension in her arms fall aside as her legs begin confidently picking up their pace, Sophie lets her reservations fall aside as she closes the distance, throwing her arms forward as she walks into the man. “I’m...” Andrew sighs again, pressing his eyes shut and squeezing the droplets from the cusps of his lids as his daughter’s arms wrap around him, her head pressing against his chest as he pulls her close, returning her gesture as his lips fall to the woman’s head. Blubbering like a small child returning home after being lost in the forest, the reconciled father crumbles into the woman’s arms as their emotions well to the surface together, reunited in conditions less than favourable, but in a way neither had expected to one day be possible. “...so sorry” he finishes, pressing his daughter’s body against his own with as much force as he can manage, only outdone by the girl’s desire to openly sob into his arms, the defiant strength she’d taken since entering the walls of the prison in the name of survival melting away like butter as her heart travels back to the family it belongs to. = 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 = “Where are mom and dad?” Galen queries, handing his coat off to his sister as they step through the door, returning to an empty home as the girl places the car keys in a bowl near the home’s entrance. “They went on a little trip somewhere” Liv responds, hanging the nylon jacket on a nearby hook as her brother traipses into the living room, spinning in circles as he throws his hands out at either side. “Are they bringing us back anything?” Galen questions back, standing on one foot as he spins like an uncoordinated ballerina, prompting his sister to hurry to his side and put an end to his childish rotation. “I don’t know what kind of trip they went on. I’m sure they’ll bring us back a souvenir if it was somewhere fun” Liv reassures, picking the boy up and carrying him over to the couch, where she places him down and kneels to the ground. “Derby is coming over to hang out with us tonight, alright?” Liv questions, pressing her hands to either side of her younger brother’s hips to keep him in place, not wanting to afford him the chance at climbing down and sending himself into a spiral of sickness once more. “We’ll pick out a movie, order a pizza and stay in for the night, okay?” she follows up, breaking down the simple evening in a way she hopes the boy has no complaints with. “Can we go to where mom and dad went?” Galen queries, looking toward the ground whilst pressing the tip of his thumb between his teeth, the limb he nibbles on being quickly pulled free from his chompers by his older sister. “I don’t know where mom and dad went. We can’t go where they are because I don’t know how to get there” Liv responds, continuing to look her brother in the eyes to prevent him from looking away, “we’re gonna stay here tonight and have fun watching a movie, okay?” Nodding quietly, Galen watches his sister pat his knees as she looks toward the knapsack at the side of the room, trying to figure out what her parents would do in her shoes at the moment. “Do you have any homework?” Liv questions aloud, watching her sibling again nod in silence, affording her the chance to step away and return to her feet, “go take your homework upstairs and do it, okay? If you need me, just call out and I'll help.” Nodding without a word for a third and final time, Galen pushes himself off the chesterfield’s centre cushion and hurries his little legs across the room, his shoes tapping against the hardwood floors with each prance as he reclaims his backpack, climbing the stairs with it in tow as his sister watches on. For the next three hours, the daylight beyond the home’s windows begins to die with the rest of the day that it marks with whatever warmth it can offer in its mid-winter state. Returning from the bathroom with her brother in tow and a towel wrapped around his head, Liv strolls through the upstairs hallway and ventures towards the boy’s room as her wrist begins to vibrate with the device at the base of her hand. “Yeah?” she wonders aloud, using her free hand to swipe the green icon on her watch’s screen before dropping her lower jaw, affording her ear a louder and more clear sound of the voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be leaving my place in about an hour to head to yours. Is it alright if I stay over?” Derby remarks, climbing up the stairs from her own home’s lower level to the upstairs corridor her bedroom lies near the end of, “if we’re watching a movie and eating a pizza, I don’t want to be doing another twenty minute drive to get home.” “I don’t even know if my parents are coming home tonight” Liv responds, setting her brother down before closing the door, “they’d be able to stay wherever they are for about a week without issue with what they left me here with. If they’ve got a problem with you staying over, they should have told me more than what they did.” “I like how this new confidence looks on you, Liv. It’s a good thing you and Dylan didn’t work out, ‘cause I know a couple of guys who’d find it hot as fuck” Derby jokes, stepping into her room as they share a subdued laugh. “I’ll see you when you get here” Liv responds, brushing past the comment in favour of attending to her duties for the evening, passing the briefest of departing words toward her friend before swiping her wrist through the air. “Let’s get you in your pyjamas, buddy” Liv proclaims, picking a blue, outer space-inspired onesie from the nearby dresser before returning to her sibling’s side, running the towel over his wet hair again to dry it as best as manageable. Applauding, Galen steps into the attire and allows for his sister to button it up before hurrying for the door at her behest, watched on with a smile by the girl that drapes the towel over her arm, having done enough service to the family for one day. Whilst her brother rests his head on her lap, Liv’s eyes take toward the television screen across the room, the slim remote that goes to it hanging from her index finger and thumb as her arm rests against the sofa’s back. Turning their backs toward each other, the characters in the black and white film begin walking in opposite directions with pistols drawn, a squint carried in their eyes as they traipse across the sand that they kick into the air, counting each movement forward as they approach the number twenty. Intrigued by the film thus far, the girl rests her head against the cushion that her back sinks into with one leg draped over the other, the thigh of it used as a pillow for her brother’s sleepy head. Watching as the characters draw toward the penultimate number, Liv’s free hand sinks into the chesterfield, her attention grasped by the declaration of the final number that precedes their quick turn, the draw of their weapons held toward the other and firing at the same time. Firing off, the pair of bullets rip through the barrel of their revolvers and graze the duelers opposite each other, though their aftermath loses the viewer entirely at the sound of a thud outside the home. Veering her eyes past the television and toward the window overlooking the home’s front yard, Liv reclaims full possession of the remote and pauses the film just as another shot is about to be taken, sentencing the home to a silence that affords her a momentary glimpse into the chaos outside. Squinting as she goes onto alert, Liv gently lifts her brother’s head off her leg and springs off the couch, approaching the vantage point of the elevated windowsill with an eye held toward the front of the home. “Galen, go to your room!” she hurriedly remarks, turning her back to the sight of a figure concealing themselves within the darkness as they climb off a knocked over garbage bin with a flashlight in hand. Turning off the television, Liv hurries to the front door and locks its deadbolt and doorknob before turning on the living room’s light, hearing a pair of footsteps hurry up the front porch and attempt to turn the knob. Met with an impact resisting their force, the curious individual beyond the home’s entry slams their side into the structure to no avail, earning a grunt of frustration that precedes their angered punch at the metal entrance. “Who is-?” Galen inquires, climbing off the couch with a frightened tone of voice before jumping back at the sound of a second, angry strike at the separation between his sister and the aggravated figure on the other side. “Go to your room now!” Liv hisses, pointing toward the staircase that her scared brother soon takes off running toward, “get under your bed and don’t come out unless I tell you to!” Slamming their shoulder into the door once more, the apparent intruder fails to see any success for a second time, earning a growl of frustration as he pulls away. “The police are on their way! You’re not getting in!” Liv proclaims, knowing the stranger on the other side to be able to hear her, the comments that she issues doing little to satisfy the person keen on entering by force. Slamming the palm of the hand against the metal barricade, the forceful stranger skids their running shoes against the stone front patio and descends the stairs once more, running off into the night in a way that leaves Liv curious as to whether or not they’ve gone for good. Stepping away from the home’s front passageway, the girl inspects the entrance without being able to hear anything directly opposite it, hesitant to buy into the idea that they’ve truly left for good. Pulling up her watch, Liv takes her face toward the display and quickly ventures toward her friend’s contact, waiting for an answer as she continues to look at the front door with reluctance. “Yo, you’ve got Derby!” the girl proclaims, leaning back in her seat with one leg sitting atop the dashboard, the sole of her running shoe pressing against the plastic divider between it and the steering wheel’s base, “I’m not that far aw-” “Derby, I need you to be careful when you pull up here” Liv warns, interrupting her friend’s seemingly high spirits in the name of looking out for her safety, “someone just tried to break into my house and I don’t know if they’re still ar-” Interrupting herself as she leaps back in a sudden fright, Liv watches a heavy stone fly through the living room window and smash into the back of the television set, sending it crashing to the floor amidst multiple shards of broken glass. “Liv, what the fuck is happening over there!?” Derby proclaims, hearing the crystal-clear sound of the surprising impact and the brief yelp of shock that her friend immediately reacts with. “They just broke the fucking window!” Liv shouts, stammering back into the wall before heading up the staircase, running with every ounce of speed she can muster, “call the police and don’t come in the house!” Leaving her remarks at that, the fleeing resident swipes her arm through the air whilst her friend suddenly takes to sitting upright in the car, calling her friend’s name to no response before watching the call come to a sudden end, leaving her with only marching orders and fear to act on. | “He saw your interview. Apparently, he saw it a few times” Elaine explains, taking one of the inmate’s hands into her own whilst her husband does the same with the other. “A few times is an understatement” Andrew corrects, looking toward the girl’s hands as they sit within those that he couples around them, shaking his head at the idea that it’s as simple as proposed, “I played it on repeat throughout the entire night. I’ve practically memorised half of it by heart at this rate.” Letting her own eyes fall toward the table’s surface, Sophie’s face is reclaimed by the man’s continued comments, his grasp on her hands squeezing slightly tighter whilst he does. “It was one of those things where you couldn’t stop listening to it even though each new listen broke your heart more and more the longer it went on” Andrew confesses, unable to look up at the girl that sits in his literal reach, his sorrowful and emotional demeanour mixing with a hint of self-displeasure. “I didn’t mean to upset you” Sophie responds with a faint whisper, hanging her head once more as the man looks up at her, grasping her hands more firmly with reassurance as she looks back toward him. “It’s not you that upset me, Soph’” Andrew responds, locking eyes with the girl in a way that- at first- prompts him to fall silent, the hesitancy to say anything only lasting for a few seconds before it’s broken by the parting of his lips. Thinking twice before speaking, Andrew lets his head hang whilst his daughter watches on, unsure of what the end of his sentence was meant to be before the man’s focus shifts to his side. “Can you give us a second alone, dear?” he requests, looking toward his wife, who immediately nods in agreement before stepping away from the table, her eyes looking around the room in search of a quiet place before Darnell’s voice lures her toward him. “The visitor booths are empty. We’ll give them a minute or two in private” the man remarks, stepping away from the side of the room to usher the woman behind the plexiglass divider. Appreciative, Sophie and Andrew nod toward the man as he ventures back, leaving the entrance between the commons area and the secluded sector open just a few inches, going against his professional duties to allow the low-risk inmate the privilege of a quiet moment alone. Given the floor to themselves, the father and daughter remain within silence as the man pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts and close his eyes, letting a long, quiet breath leave through his lips. “Hearing you say that the only person you had to blame was yourself is what upset me” Andrew remarks, continuing to hang his head as the sight of just his daughter’s now pair of hands sitting within his own, the lack of her face within his view making it easier for him to speak openly. Letting her eyes fall as she presses her bottom lip between her teeth, Sophie feels her chest grow heavy before she lets out a deep exhale, freeing it of some of the weight that it takes on. “I’ve had a long time to come to terms with what I did in here” she confesses, watching the man’s head shake as he continues to avert his eyes, though the lack of his sight does little to dissuade her from prolonging her speech, “I needed to stop making excuses and own up to the fact that I’m here because I-” “You’re here because I’m sick” Andrew interjects, confessing as he breaks his line of sight from the woman’s hands within his own and stares at her eyes, watching a look of surprise and confusion take shape in her furrowed brows. His lips forming a frown, the man shakes his head in refusal once more as his head stiffens upright, his face levelling with that of his daughter’s face as his shoulders tense up. “The impulses that you got... That plague... The thing that drove you to do what you did because you felt like you had no other choice...” Andrew admits, remaining firm in his posture as he speaks whilst his daughter looks on, “...you didn’t get it from your mother. You got it from me.” Leaning back slightly, Sophie’s head takes on a bow of disbelief toward the man’s hands as they remain calmly resting around her own, trying to process her father’s comments as he continues to speak. “I don’t know a lot about it. I just know that it makes you irrational in moments where you need to be anything other than irrational. A fight or flight response kicks in and you just do what you need to so you can survive” Andrew continues to speak, keeping his voice low as the girl looks back at him. “It’s like you’re pitted against a danger that you can’t see and your back is against the wall... but you’ve got a knife in hand” he furthers, trying to break it down in a way that makes enough sense to not seem like nonsensical jabber, “all you know to do in that moment is to start swinging when their back is turned.” “I’m... I...” Sophie stammers, shaking her head as she looks back to her hands, gently attempting to pull them from the man’s reach, only for her efforts to be calmly thwarted. “Try to act like what I’m saying isn’t as insane as it is. I don’t want your mother and the security guy to think that something’s off” Andrew warns, passing a glance toward the onlooking duo sitting behind the pane of glass that had separated him from his daughter on the day that he’d disowned her. “I don’t understand” Sophie whispers, easing her demeanour in hopes that it’ll be believable enough to not raise concern, “I thought it was mom that was sick.” Nodding, Andrew looks toward the table with his teeth pressing together as he sways his head from one shoulder to the other. “Neither of us were entirely well put together” he concedes, making a point to clarify the difference, “I kept it together after I got out of a bad situation, but Morgan had... Well, her issues weren’t really helped by a change in scenery to put it lightly.” “How do you know this?” the inmate suddenly inquires, looking at her father’s eyes as she leans in, relaxing her hands to allow more comfort in the possession that they fall into, “did you get diagnosed or something?” Looking the girl in the eyes at first, Andrew’s face falls still like a statue’s as he takes in the question, unsure of how to answer before deciding to dive feet-first into the unknowns that he’s opened Pandora's box to explore. “Because I killed my mother not long after you were born” he confesses, surprising the inmate enough for her hands to go cold, a chill running down her spine beneath the texture of her beige jumpsuit, a frost-like stillness falling upon the length of her body like a corpse buried beneath the weight of an avalanche. “My father tried to murder me for a life insurance policy I’d put in their name while your mother was in therapy. Like a rehab for some of her illnesses” Andrew clarifies, making it a point to explain himself beyond doubt whilst his daughter continues to listen. “He took me out into the woods to hunt for deer, but I figured out what he was doing. I shot him before he could pull the trigger and went back home” he furthers, running down the events as if they were items on a shopping list. “I walked in the door and my mother thought that I was him. She asked if he’d made it look like an accident and...” Andrew explains, watching his daughter’s eyes take a judgmentally-bewildered stare as he pauses, seeing no point in falling short of the recollection’s conclusion now that he’s voiced the most enthralling part, “...I just lost it.” Keeping her head straight, Sophie’s eyes fall to the table and the blurry reflection of herself that is presented within its surface, sitting with the information for a moment before feeling the man’s hands press against the backs of her hands tighter. “I thought that you wouldn’t have to suffer the same thing if I just gave you a normal life. What I said to you the last time I was here was more me feeling like a complete failure than anything else” Andrew concludes, “I had to put you behind me if I had any chance at giving Liv a chance to live a life of her own.” | Racing up the stairs, Liv dashes toward the end of the hallway, passing the bathroom along her journey without being able to see anything through the darkness, her eyes advancing into the vast space of nothing without certainty over what resides within it. Beyond the washroom, her eyes take toward the various open doors within the passageway before settling on the building’s home office, carrying herself inside before attempting to close the door. Thinking twice, Liv gasps as her hands wrap around the knob, her back turned toward the larger room as her eyebrows furrow, going along with the thought that she takes into her mind. With little time to act, she bites into her bottom lip and turns the knob’s lock before stepping back into the hallway, locking the door from the inside and shutting it before advancing the way she’d come. Drifting her head into her brother’s room, she crouches toward the ground as the sound of boots stepping upon broken glass begins to emanate from the level below. “Shhh!” she whispers, pressing one finger against her lips as she looks her brother in the eyes, his hands covering his mouth as he nods silently, watching as his older sister climbs back to her feet and takes off running. Muting her footsteps as best as she can, the girl wears a frightened scowl as she comes face to face with the bathroom once more, hearing the intruder make for the staircase and take the first step upward. With no other option now, Liv enters the desolate room and stands as flat against the wall as she can, letting the door close as far against her body as her torso will allow it. Covering everything below the bridge of his nose with a black mask, the strange man entering a home that isn’t his makes it to the second level of the home, flashing his light down toward the other end of the hallway without moving at first. Squinting, he looks toward each door before spotting the lone entrance shut from his view, letting out a deep breath as he begins approaching it. Staying put, Liv braces as if she were seconds away from being hit by a car, looking into the mirror directly opposite her as the flashlight’s luminosity grows brighter, closing in on her room before carrying forward with the rest of the invader’s figure. Keeping as quiet as she can manage to be, the girl lets out a rolling breath through her ‘O-shaped’ lips as she listens to the footsteps carry forward. Relieving herself of the sucked-in breath, the girl emerges from behind the door and continues to stand within the veil of darkness that covers the bathroom as she listens to a shoulder slam into the office’s entrance, attempting to cave it inward as the apparent target of his frustrations wraps her hands around whatever they can find. Readying herself, Liv keeps her breaths quiet as she listens to the man’s weight throw itself into the door twice before pulling back for a third attempt. Grunting, the stranger’s shoulder slams into the door for a third time to the sound of raucous, provoking Liv into action as she pulls her weight forward. Dashing out of the bathroom fast like a cheetah and silently like a stealthful lion, she pushes herself off the wall and takes toward the staircase, pressing her rear end to the top of the bannister whilst holding on for dear life. As if it were a slide, the wooden railing acts like a slide that the escape-artist takes all the way back to ground level, her feet colliding with the floor as silently as she’d stayed within the bathroom in favour of climbing down the creaky stairs with hopes of outrunning the slaughter she’s yet to know for certain is in store or out of consideration. Covered by nothing more than socks, Liv sprints into the kitchen and purposefully rips a cabinet out from the kitchen counter, leaping back as it flies from the furniture and slams into the ground with a heavy collision. To the sound of clattering metal, a variety of kitchen tools dance across the ground with ear-shattering resonance, making her presence clear to the man one level above as she jumps over the scattered remains. Having frustratedly pulled out of the home office and carried back, the intruder stops at one of the few rooms with a light already on, flashing his bulb into the cosy confines in the same moment that the sound of chaos rings out from the kitchen below. Widening, the intruder’s eyes take toward the way he’d come before his feet begin racing for it, unaware of the tears that begin streaming down Galen’s face beneath the bed his flashlight had just shone upon. Each stair passed without issue, the culprit of unknown motivation looks around the living room before turning toward the kitchen, finding the mess left behind just laying in the middle of the floor without attendance. Spotting the sight of disruption, the stranger begins hurrying forward before thinking better of his actions, putting on a display of reservation as he slows his progression, becoming sceptical of the scene that lays ahead of the dividing wall between the common’s area and the apparent hotbed of activity. Sitting on the floor with a knife in her hand behind the kitchen’s central island, Liv stares at the entrance to the patio that she’d purposefully opened, allowing the chill of winter air spill into the kitchen as she waits for the man to advance. “Olivia...” a deep, purposefully-altered voice calls out, earning a widening of her sights as her careful squint is replaced with a concerned and caught off-guard suspicion. “I know you’re here alone” the man remarks, stepping forward with his flashlight dancing around the room, immediately taking toward the first corner that he rounds when stepping into the kitchen, clearing it of her presence before noticing the open door. Shaking his head in disapproval, the intruder lowers his shoulders and drops his attempt at frightening the soul hiding from him, taking the backdoor’s opening to be a sign of her premature escape. “Fuck” he sighs beneath his breath, lowering his flashlight as he advances upon the back of the room, marching beyond the kitchen’s isle and through the patio door. Watching on as she keeps to herself, Liv looks toward the uncertain figure with eyes of rage as he takes no notice of her, continuing onward as she quietly pushes herself off the ground. Embracing the winter air, the man lifts the hood of his black jacket over the top of his head, concealing everything other than his eyes as he steps onto the patio. Seeing this gesture and taking no care in it, Liv follows after the man only a few steps behind, the knife in her hand pointing its blade toward his back as she closes in. Making toward the steps, the intruder shakes his head without pleasure at the unfinished deed he’d arrived to take part in before spinning around without warning, refusing to follow through on his departure as his target falls within sight. Stopping in her tracks, Liv’s judgement suddenly loses the dense fog that had covered it as she comes only eye-to-eye with her aggressor, their bodies facing each other’s as they both come to a screeching halt. Deepening her grasp of the knife, the nineteen year old girl readies herself for a defence as the man opposite her looks toward the blade, returning his sight toward her before again setting his focus upon the weapon. “Are you gonna do something with that?” the intruder questions aloud, almost challenging the girl to advance upon him in the obviously-fake, low-scaled tone. Feeling the air’s crisp chill touch her skin like a passionate lover, Liv looks toward the weapon for a brief moment before clenching her teeth and flaring her nostrils, almost daring herself to follow through on her efforts as she takes one step forward. In an instant, her thoughts of bloodlust fall aside as the distant sound of sirens begins firing through the air, closing in on their target as both souls take notice. Grunting as his face takes on a sour expression beneath the facial covering, the intruder turns away and quickly leaps down the few steps to ground level, returning his boots to the home’s grassy patches as he looks back at the subject of his transgressions. “I’ll be seeing you around, Olivia” the man warns in his fake reflection, watching as she remains on-guard where he’d left her, the knife pointing toward the direction that he retreats toward, vanishing into the woods at the end of the backyard before spilling into wherever he feels will give him the best chance at getting away. Unable to avert her eyes from his disappearing figure, Liv stands in place with one foot farther ahead than the other, her eyes following his cloaked disguise into the darkness before losing track of it through the trees. Suddenly taking toward the knife, the girl’s eyes follow it as she leaps back, cleaning her palm of its presence as she lets go, hearing it dance across the hardwood structure before coming to a stop at the top-most step. Breathing heavily, the girl looks toward her own palm as it shakes with a tremor, horrified at the sight she’d just witnessed. Catching her ear the louder that it grows, the approaching police sirens close in on Liv’s home and provoke her into resetting her attention, trying to clear her mind of the horrors that she’d both nearly suffered and nearly committed as she steps back, passing a final glance toward the woods as she re-enters the home, making for the front as the cold air grows steady. == Generation Alpha == > Tuesday, 29th November 2039 <
“Where are you? Are you alright?” Elaine inquires, scooping chunks of cantaloupe and honeydew out of a plastic tin and onto a plate, which she carries from the kitchen countertop and onto the table that her son sits at, anxiously awaiting his breakfast. “Yeah, I’m fine” Andrew replies in a tired tone of voice, shaking his head as he rests it against the side of a couch, one hand covering his face whilst he presses his phone to the side of his head with the other. “It’s like I said. I just felt exhausted and didn’t want to fall asleep while I was on the road in case I had to manually take over at some point. I just decided to crash at the store” he adds on, groaning as he sits upright and places his feet on the floor. “Alright. Well, do you want me to swing by and drop off a fresh pair of clothes? I can’t imagine you found a way to shower over there” Elaine queries, only to receive the same response she’d gotten earlier. “I think I’m just going to leave the shop closed for today. I’ll call it a personal day and leave it at that” Andrew responds, swiping at the knees of his denim jeans as he pats the dry dirt that covers them. “Don’t you want to save those for when we head down south to check out homes?” Elaine queries back, opening the top to her waffle maker before scooping out the wonderfully pressed breakfast item and placing it beside her son’s assortment of fruit. “I own the store, dear. I can close it whenever I want” Andrew reassures, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes as he climbs off his seat and makes it to his feet, throwing his arms out slowly as he frees his muscles of the tension that had built up within them throughout the night. “That’s true. And it won’t matter for much longer since you’re selling it. I guess that makes sense” Elaine mutters to herself, shrugging her shoulders as she steps away from the kitchen. “Of course it does. That’s the whole...” her husband replies, pausing as he lifts his face toward the ceiling, following the footsteps overhead as they trail from one side of the upper level to the next, “...reason why I made that decision.” Without much to add, Elaine rounds the bannister and begins ascending to the home’s second level, her footsteps growing more distant from the man on the other end of the call. “I’ll be home in about an hour, alright?” Andrew inquires, leaving off the call with as reassuring of a departure as he can muster, the conclusion being one that his wife is satisfied with. “I’ll see you soon” Elaine remarks, bringing the call to an end that leaves her husband comfortable enough to toss the phone onto his loveseat and approach the other end of the secret confines. With a glum face, Andrew snatches a can of beer out of the mini fridge and returns to the centre of the room, dropping himself onto the couch as he cracks open the metal canister, sipping from within as he lets out a loud groan, having soundproofed the room enough to speak openly without fear of discovery from above. Beating him like a band member to a drum, Andrew’s headache settles in before he takes a second sip of his liquor and sours at the bitter taste he takes from it, suddenly feeling the disgust in himself at opening a can this early in the day. Scraping his tongue with the bottom of his front teeth, the man spits into a bucket just a few feet away and settles the can onto the floor as the footsteps above traipse from the bottom of the stairs and back to the kitchen. Hearing his breaths force themselves through his nostrils as if he were congested, Andrew sits with a sour face before reaching beneath himself, reclaiming the phone he’d laid himself back upon and opening it to the last tab. Pressing play, the father watches his disowned offspring’s face well up with tears, the camera cutting to the host of the program whilst the girl’s father serves as the viewer, taking the place of the camera that had studied the pair like an unrelenting stalker. “Is this an act for the camera, or do you genuinely regret what you did?” Daphne inquires, looking at the girl that sits before her with a reserved expression, trying not to display anything unfairly judgemental in one direction or the other. “I’m surrounded by the reminder of what I did. These are the consequences of my actions” Sophie assures, wiping the tears that reside within the cusp of her eyelids and she stares into the distance. “I deserve them. I deserve to be behind these walls even if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here” she restates, shrugging her shoulders as she tries her best to muster a smile, “my father disowned me. I haven’t seen my sister since that night. The only person I have to blame is...” Kept from finishing her thought, Sophie’s face freezes upon the screen of her father’s phone as his thumb presses against the pause button, preventing the video from continuing on before he turns off the device and lets the screen rest against his chest. Remaining quiet, Andrew stares with disapproval at the ceiling as he grows further irritated with himself, kept from any glimpse of the morning light outside beyond the lone window that the patio above mostly blocks from daylight of any kind. Forcing his lips to press against each other with all of his might, the man sits with his thoughts for a moment before fighting against his better judgement, playing the video he’d sentenced to nearly a minute of silence after rewinding it five seconds. “...the only person I have to blame is myself... no one else” Sophie finishes, seeing no alternative to any conclusion but that one, “I’d like to believe that when I’ll have served a justified punishment once I get out, but I’ll never be able to bring those people back.” Placing the palm of her pen-wielding right hand atop the one of her left as it sits upon the note-filled legal pad in her lap, Daphne squints toward the inmate in refusal to take it easy on the subject of her interview. “Why should anyone believe you?” the interviewer inquires, restricting her personal feelings toward the girl in favour of addressing a common concern, “plenty of criminals have lied to get what they want, and your story about the day you were abducted were filled with holes. Why should the public believe you now?” “Because I’m going to get out eventually” Sophie answers without haste, refusing to skip a beat in replying to the criticism. “Hopefully it will be in eight years when I’m up for parole. At worst, it’ll be thirty three years from now. But one way or another... I’ll be released from here eventually” she doubles down, making herself clear beyond doubt, “I’ve done nothing but keep out of other people’s business here. I’ve been as much of a model inmate as you can ask for. So being released in eight years isn’t far-fetched.” “Is that supposed to comfort people who believe that you’re a danger to society?” Daphne inquires, interrupting the girl’s answer with a follow-up question, one that’s answered as hastily as the one she’d brought up prior. “No. What is supposed to comfort people is that they have the choice of whether to believe me or not. They’ll have to make their minds up sooner or later, because me getting out of here is inevitable” Sophie answers, nodding to the interviewer directly opposite herself as the camera pans closer. “Just be glad that I’m capable of seeing the error in my ways and that I want to change. There are plenty of people in my position who don’t” she follows up, putting an uncertain expression upon her father’s face once her words reach the audience they were meant to. “I have caused incredible tragedy and I am trying to make up for that every single day. I’m aware of that and I am trying with all of my heart to be better” Sophie concludes, confident in her remarks as the camera’s lens draws even closer, “I owe it to those people and their families to not be the same girl that I was all those years ago.” = 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 = > Wednesday, 30th November 2039 < “I’ll have that shipped out to you within the next two weeks, thank you very much” Andrew responds, waving his wrist through the air to end the call as the employee entrance opens behind him. “Jesus, you startled me!” he proclaims, pressing the palm of his hand against his chest as he leans into the store’s counter, a smile carried on his face whilst his wife apologises. “I meant to call you but the line was busy” Elaine responds in a soft and remorseful tone, being dissuaded from doing so by the understanding husband. “It’s fine! It’s fine!” Andrew responds, resting his hand against his wife’s side as she approaches, reassuring her of the humour that he takes from the interaction, “I’m just glad you didn’t come through the front.” “I figured you’d have kept it locked, so I didn’t bother trying” the woman explains, following her husband into the nearby office as he carries the pad in hand, venturing toward the bulletin board propped above one of the desks. “Well it was locked, so that was a smart move” Andrew replies, tacking the sheet he tears from the notepad just beside a similar order, the addresses reading identical destinations, “did you just come by to say ‘hello’, or is there something you need?” “I was just on my way to the grocery store. I wanted to make stuffed peppers for dinner, but the peppers we have in the fridge went bad” Elaine responds, standing in the doorway with her bag on one shoulder, “is there anything you need while I’m there?” Shaking his head, Andrew looks into the distance deep within thought, looking for something worth mentioning only to come up empty handed. “As long as you’re making dinner tonight, I’ll eat whatever you put on the table” he replies, watching a smile come over the woman’s face as she nods, taking a glance around the cosy quarters the man uses as an office before following up. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?” Elaine inquires, the glance that she takes around the confines being met with the same absence as her husband finds responsibilities to come by. “I think I’m all set here. I’m just taking calls from other nurseries and waiting on a delivery guy to drop by in about an hour. I think I might close up shop early today and let the other orders go to voicemail” Andrew concludes, setting forth a plan that his wife finds little fault in. “I guess that means you’ll be free to help make dinner tonight?” Elaine inquires with a grin, turning around to exit the office. “I’m always free to help make dinner... that’s why I always help make dinner” Andrew jokes, following the woman into the front of the store as she steps beyond the front counter, laughing at the joke before taking a glance around the shop. “It’s crazy to think you’ve already had your last flower season here” the woman remarks, finding the store to be littered with the plants that the man continues to provide for, keeping healthy and sprouting throughout the winter beneath the warmth of overhead lights. Tucking his hands into his back pockets, Andrew slowly follows the woman further into their store, taking a look around the green-covered shop before letting his eyes fall on some nearby trees built into a small plot beside his store, their branches barren of anything other than air. “Well, I certainly have, but I suppose that doesn’t necessarily mean that the shop has” he corrects, watching his wife spin around with a curious look in her eyes, not understanding what the man means in his claim. “Well, of course not. I doubt whoever you sell this place to will tear the building down. Especially after you renovated it with the terrace extension” Elaine replies, finding her husband’s face to hold a continued expression of contention. “I was thinking about that, and... I’m not so sure that I want to just sell everything we have here and move south” Andrew confesses, shrugging his shoulders as he approaches his wife, “maybe we can sell the house. But I can probably find someone to run the store while we live down south.” “I don’t understand, I thought you wanted to just cut bait and head south now that we could?” Elaine inquires, feeling like she’s misunderstood her husband somewhere along the line. “I did. I have nothing keeping me here and there’s nothing stopping us from taking Galen and moving south while Liv goes off to college” Andrew responds, continuing to let the tops of his hands reside within the slots of his pants, “but there’s just this feeling that I have that cutting all the ties we have here is just...” “...Wrong?” Elaine inquires, finishing the man’s thought to the reaction of a warm smile, his head nodding silently to assure her accuracy. “I’ve started to feel the same way” the woman confesses, looking to the ground out of a misplaced sense of shame, her stomach wanting to growl in response to the discomfort that takes shape within it, “it just feels like we’re abandoning something that has been good to us for the most part.” Tilting his head to the side, Andrew curls his lip as he looks away, finding some doubt in the woman’s stance before she doubles down on it. “I know you don’t like thinking about everything that happened with Sophie, but you were a good father to her” Elaine remarks, defying the man’s well-known desire of addressing the woman in question in favour of lending credence to her point, “and despite everything that happened, she was a good kid until everything went south.” “Honey, I really don’t-” Andrew softly responds, trying to dissuade the woman from continuing to speak about his oldest, disowned child, only to find failure in his attempt as she carries on. “Honey, I watched the interview they did with her on Sunday. I’m sorry, I know you like pretending that she never existed, but I couldn’t help it” Elaine confesses, surprising her husband in a way that leaves him speechless and seemingly motionless. “You should’ve heard her. That was the girl that I knew before everything went wrong. That’s the girl you raised” she continues, looking the man in the eyes as he remains silent, refusing to interrupt her the longer that she talks. “I don’t know why she went into a spell where she was someone else entirely, but that girl in the interview was your daughter” Elaine speaks to the point of a whisper, unable to put any further strength in her voice as she utters it near the verge of tears. Becoming more reflective, Andrew’s own eyes begin falling to the floor as his face takes on the visage of sorrow, his wife’s pain in just seeing the pair as fractured as they are bringing him to the point of crying. “I don’t mean to upset you, but-” Elaine comments, trying to offer her husband reassurance that she fails to offer in full, the man’s interruption prompting her into a moment of silence. “I’ve watched it over and over” Andrew whispers, watching one of his tears squeeze out and fall to the ground, his wife’s eyes widening with surprise as the moment becomes too difficult for her not to find emotion over. Hanging his head, the man shakes it from one side to the other before trying to wipe away the tear, looking back up through whatever ounce of courage he can as the agony of the past many years brings itself to the surface. “That’s my little girl” he whimpers, taking one step forward before letting his head fall into the woman’s neck as she wraps her arms around him, pulling his larger frame into an embrace that he matches with ease. Holding her tight, Andrew breaks down within her arms as his wife soothes him, Elaine’s lips pecking him on the side of the face as he openly weeps. | “You have your licence on you, right?” Andrew inquires through the phone, speaking to his daughter as she ventures through the school’s hallway. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Why?” Liv responds, putting the combination into her locker as she sets a stack of books down. “Because your mother and I are making a quick trip and we need you to pick up your brother from school when it’s out” the girl’s father replies, catching her by surprise at the suddenness of this apparent journey, “what you do after that is up to you.” “I mean, if it’s really important- sure. I’ll have Derby drive me home and-” Liv begins to reply, only to hear her father’s muffled voice interject itself from the other end of the line. “What are you having me do?” Derby inquires, leaning into her friend at the mention of her name, only to find herself woefully unsure of what the rest of the comment was. “No, Liv. I left the car in the parking lot in that one place that I parked to pick you up that one day last year” Andrew replies as his daughter waves Derby off, gesturing for her not to interrupt the call, “my debit card is in the glove compartment with a note that has my passcode on it. Pick up your brother from school and order pizza or something. Do whatever you want.” “Can I take him to Las Vegas?” Liv jokes, crouching toward the ground to retrieve a separate stack of books from the bottom of her locker. “Of course not, but whatever you can do in the state- go ahead. I don’t care how much it costs, I just need you in charge of running the house tonight, alright?” “Works for me” the girl he entrusts this responsibility to replies, reciprocating their departing greeting before hanging up the phone. “What was that about?” Derby wonders aloud, holding a textbook and a spiral binder against her chest as she leans against the locker beside her friend’s own, seeing a look of confusion fall upon the girl’s face. “My dad left me the car and wants me to go pick up Galen from school after class” Liv responds, slamming her locker’s door shut to end the phone call in the same gesture, shrugging as she begins venturing toward her next class. “It sounds like the family will be out of the house tonight... Does that mean I should swing by?” Derby inquires, watching the smile sprout across her friend’s face as it turns toward her. | Flipping the page of her softcover book, Sophie spends the final hour of true daylight reading in her cell, passing a glance toward the hallway beyond her open door every time a beige jumpsuit or a light blue guard’s uniform traipses past. “Which book are you reading this time?” Darnell inquires, making a stop during his patrol to poke his head into the girl’s cell, her eyes drifting just above the novel to find the guard’s face, her eyes falling upon the cover of the book she hadn’t even bothered to check. “‘God is not great, how religion poisons everything’ by Christopher Hitchens” Sophie replies, shrugging as she returns the pages to her direct line of sight, “I hadn’t bothered to check. I’ve just been going down the length of the shelf in the library.” Amused, Darnell nods toward the girl before stepping forward, preparing to continue on before hearing her voice call back out to him. “Can I ask you a question?” Sophie inquires, watching the man’s back find its way to the corridor as he directs his full front toward the cell, offering the girl every ounce of his attention. “I just want you to be honest. Don’t sugarcoat it with me, alright?” she restates, watching his nod assure her of nothing less than just that, “I know good credit gets me closer to meeting my minimum requirement for parole, but what are the odds that I’ll actually get approved for it when I’m eligible?” Puckering his lips, the man looks to the empty bunk beneath the young woman and considers the question as properly as he can, not wanting to offer her the wrong advice. “Well, you’ll have to go through the same process as everybody else. It’ll be just that... a process” Darnell replies, shaking his head as the pucker in his lips deepens, “people will argue whether or not you’ve serviced the prison enough to be a model inmate, but no one will argue that you’ve been any less than a good inmate.” Hanging her head, Sophie appears disappointed in a way that the guard can’t quite make out a reason for. “Is something wrong, Ms. Amari?” Darnell questions aloud, a forgiving tone of voice offered to the girl that appears to reserve more reluctance to buy into what he’s saying than what she initially lets on. “One of the people that I’m in here for killing was an officer” Sophie mumbles aloud, continuing to stare at the bottom of her book’s page out of shame that the guard takes quick notice of, “that will complicate things, won’t it?” Leaning his head to the side, Darnell takes the woman’s concern into consideration before shaking his head in refusal. “Most of us were warned that you were amongst the people we should take extra precaution with when you were brought here” the man confesses, resting his dominant arm against the doorway to the cell. “Some of the guards here aren’t fond of you out of principle, but I’m not sure there’s anyone here who hates you. You’ve been amongst the best inmates we have, and you make our jobs easier” Darnell concludes, again shaking his head in refusal, “if we can look past that, so can the parole board.” Somewhat reassured, the inmate’s eyes lower before her head begins nodding, coming to terms with the advice that she receives. “Why do you ask?” Darnell inquires, watching the woman’s sight set upon him at the raising of his question, her spirits seemingly remaining low despite his reassuring words. Letting a puff of air leave through her nose, Sophie sends a folded piece of paper into the page that she wishes to leave off on and sets her book to the side, not wanting to think about reading as long as this conversation is being had. “I know that my sentence was forty years. I know that I did the crime and deserve to do the time, but I also like I’ve changed from the person that I was when I earned my place here” she confesses, a sentiment the guard can appreciate, “I just worry that I’ll be kept in here longer than I feel that I need to be.” Frowning, Darnell watches the girl keep her lips parted as if she were intending to continue speaking, unable to hear the words that she purposefully refrains from saying at first. “I know that sounds selfish. All of what I’m saying sounds selfish” Sophie admits, a sentiment that the guard can’t necessarily disagree with despite his best hopes for the inmate, “but I’m just worried that no one will ever get the chance to see the work that I’ve done to try and be a better person than that.” Pulling his head back, Darnell watches the girl’s hands press into her thin mattress after gently placing the book off to her side, attempting to drag her body further down the mattress so she can lay flat on her back. “I’m not usually supposed to tell inmates things about how the public sees them, so you better not say anything about this to anyone” the guard warns, laying out the line to be followed in order for his sharing of trust to be justified. “They’re inquiring about another interview with you. They’re trying to work with the prison to set up something that works with everyone’s schedule” Darnell explains, surprising the girl who readjusts her posture so she can sit upright once more. “There’s been public support for you. It’s been mixed, but there’s a sizeable group of people who have praised the way that you’ve conducted yourself” the man furthers, “members of the staff here have also been asked questions about you by the media.” “What does that mean? They’re not calling for me to be freed or anything, right?” Sophie questions aloud, seeing a shrug come off the shoulders of the guard. “There are a few people like that, but there are a few people in every category” Darnell responds, unable to offer much more of concrete value than what he already has, “I assure you, though... Some people see how much you’ve-” Hearing his name called for through the radio, Darnell snaps the talkie off his hip and responds to the guard calling for him, doing so whilst Sophie watches on. “There’s someone here to see Ms. Amari. Can you bring her out of her cell and to the commons area when you get the chance?” the officer on the other end of the line inquires, prompting the man who answers him to look toward the girl with a shrug. “Sure thing, I’m just around her cell. It shouldn’t take long” Darnell responds, waiting for a reply from the man on the other end of the line. “She’s a low-risk inmate, so you’ve got me clearance to pass her by a quick check so we can get this show on the road here” the man on the other end of the radio remarks, catching the inmate’s ear and bringing a smile to her face as the guard points to the mouthpiece. “Understood, sir” Darnell responds, returning the talkie to his hip with a finger pointed toward it, presenting the girl with all the evidence that he needs to back up his point, “you see what I’m saying? People can see that you’ve changed.” Granted a renewed lease on her hope, Sophie climbs down from the top bunk and returns to the ground, letting the guard slap cuffs around her wrists and escort her through the process. From one corridor and into the next with little effort and receiving no resistance or difficulty from the rest of the staff, Sophie follows Darnell through the halls and toward the commons area, emerging from beyond the security measures before finding her face to be filled with shock and awe, a loss for words that she can’t bring herself to break at first. Standing out of her seat, Elaine conceals her smile as best as she can as she climbs up from the table, tears forming in her eyes as the woman she’d come to see stands in complete surprise. With her bottom lip quivering, Sophie remains unable to step forward whilst Darnell stands off to the side, freeing the girl’s hands from the cuffs and keeping to himself as he walks toward the corner, keeping himself from the interaction. Following his wife’s suit, Andrew slowly rises from beyond the table with even greater emotion than what his wife presents, his hands trembling and breaths difficult to come by. “Sophie” the man whispers, muttering just enough strength to gather his breathing together as the girl across from him tries her best in a failing effort to hold her emotions back. “D...” Sophie whimpers, overwhelmed with the tears that streak down her face as she lets out a deep breath, “...dad.” == Generation Alpha == > Sunday, 13th November 2039 <
“I understand that you were never charged with her death, but would you understand why some people would assume differently?” an Asian woman inquires, dressed in a grey suit befitting of a television anchor as she sits across a room from a woman younger than herself by around ten years. Silent for a moment, Sophie continues to direct her face toward the presenter whilst her eyes fall to the side, contemplating an answer to the question at large. “I think it’d be irresponsible to not see why people would have their concerns about me” she eventually replies, one leg crossed over the other as her arms sit atop one another in her lap, the drab, beige jumpsuit that she wears appearing more like pyjamas in the presence of her interviewer’s formal wear. “Do you understand why they find such fascination in your case?” the presenter inquires, wearing a name tag on the left breast of her suit jacket bearing the name ‘Daphne’. Her squint deepening, Sophie considers her response for a moment before parting her lips, looking to respond before suddenly falling silent, as if second thoughts had prevented her from speaking out of line with what she wishes to say. Exposing the right side of her head to the camera as she pulls hairs that cover it behind her ear, Sophie looks to the side of the room and sits with her thoughts for a second. Coating the walls, chipped paint lines the room in which they reside, presenting the drab reality of the living situation that the inmates dwell within. “Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t” she confesses, neither shaking her head, nor nodding toward the source of her self-inspection. “Why sometimes yes?” Daphne follows up, watching the girl’s relaxed posture deepen as she’s given the food for thought, feeding on it like a starved child unsure of whether or not the delicacy is one she’ll ever get the chance to indulge in again. “Because my situation isn’t very unique, but it also is at the same time” Sophie admits, her hands tucked into the inner elbows of each arm as she speaks, “I’m not the first person to kill people at a younger age than others, but I’m also one of what seems like very few of them.” Continuing to reserve her questioning for moments in which it is more deserving, Daphne waits for the young, brunette woman across from her to continue, watching the expression that she takes on imply that she’s deep within thought. “I also didn’t do myself any favours in trying to present myself like I was just an innocent little girl that got snatched up by her mom” Sophie explains, a refusing sway of her head taking shape as she furthers her internal investigation. “I did terrible things that I wish I could take back. I did them to people that didn’t deserve them, and I did them because I was too much of a coward to see that I didn’t need to...” Sophie utters in a low tone, visibly disheartened with the recollection of the crimes that she’d committed, “...but I didn’t feel like I had that choice at the moment.” “What choice didn’t you have?” Daphne queries, watching the girl’s line of sight fall back upon her as she shrugs with a guilty smile, one brought on by the disappointment in the memory of her actions. Repressing the emotion she wishes to present, Sophie opts to let her eyes fall as she thinks about the question, finding interest in it whilst also not seeing much in the way of depth to it. “I felt like I was backed into a corner. I was worried that everything that unfolded- in the way that it unfolded- left me no choice but to try and cover my tracks” Sophie answers, leaving her statement there for the interviewer to feed upon like fish food. “And by covering your tracks, you mean...?” Daphne queries, an open-ended sentence left for the inmate to finish with the nod of her head. “...by killing them” Sophie assures, watching the professional’s eyes linger on her for a few seconds before falling to the notepad tucked into the leather-bound binder atop her lap. “But there are times where I also don’t see the point of fascination” the inmate carries on, putting an end to Daphne’s attempt at moving onto the next question before the effort can even be made to do so. “I’m a troubled girl who deeply regrets what she’s done. I have no one to blame for my decisions other than myself” Sophie continues, allowed to speak through the silence that Daphne provides her, the room filling with a hush that the inmate gets to shatter with the parting of her lips. “My father shouldn’t be to blame. He did nothing wrong...” the girl carries on, letting out a brief burst of laughter as she shakes her head, “...if anything, he’s one of the only people who shouldn’t be blamed whatsoever.” Curious and intrigued, Daphne narrows her eyelids and remains silent, affording the inmate a chance to continue speaking unprompted, not wanting to interrupt the line of dialogue that’s presented in fear that it’ll be brought to an untimely end. “My sister had nothing to do with it, my dad’s new wife- Elaine- had nothing to do with it. None of them should be blamed or blame themselves” Sophie doubles down, making her point clear as she looks her interviewer in the eyes, “this falls solely on my shoulders.” Continuing to look at the younger woman, Daphne places the tip of her pen to the notepad in her lap, swirling the ballpoint across the page with half of an eye toward it as she writes as legibly as she can muster amidst her divided attention. “I didn’t know the private investigator very well, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him” Sophie confesses, adamantly shaking her head at the comment, “but Izzy didn’t deserve what I did to her. That was the most cruel part about what I did.” “Killing the officer wasn’t the most cruel thing?” Daphne interjects, bringing the most-recent killing up for the young woman’s mind to feed on, only to find the shake of the girl’s head to react immediately. “Killing the officer was cruel, but it wasn’t the most cruel thing that I did” Sophie assures, pressing her back into the cushion-less seat she’s been stationed upon near the centre of the room, “taking Izzy’s life took her away from Caden. And if anyone didn’t deserve what I did to them... it’s Caden.” “Why is he the one that sticks out the most?” Daphne queries, feeling like the inmate’s line of thought has gone unchecked long enough, feeling the need to bring her back to the subject of her claims. “Because Caden and I were best friends for as much of my free life as I could remember. I still have dreams at night about days we used to spend together when we were kids” Sophie responds, attempting to continue speaking before forcing herself to break eye contact, looking toward the side of the room with teary eyes. Beginning to jot down her discovery in the notepad, Daphne continues to hold her stare on the silent inmate, waiting for her to continue of her own volition whilst remaining curious to the insight that there’s potential to find in her remarks. Letting a slow breath roll free from her lungs, Sophie looks toward a window that lets daylight spill into the prison’s interior, a sight seldom seen without the obstruction of metal bars behind them or through bulletproof glass. “I took the person that he loved away. And then, since I couldn’t face the music of what I did...” Sophie whimpers, struggling to keep her emotions in check as a tear begins to streak down the side of her face, her voice becoming soft as her eyes return to the questionnaire across from her, “...I ended up getting him killed as well.” Settling into her seat further, Daphne goes without interruption as the inmate attempts to gather herself, bringing a hush over the room for a moment that’s only interrupted by the stuffy breaths she takes through her nose, trying to clear her passageways in order to breathe better. “I don’t understand why the public is so interested sometimes, though. I didn’t get why people were so interested when I was kidnapped in the first place all those years ago” Sophie confesses, her demeanour shifting from sorrow to confusion. “You see stories of trouble all the time. Maybe I’m one of the only people that actually regret what they did, or maybe it’s because of how young I was when everything happened, but I just don’t get why it’s my case that intrigued everyone” she continues. Shaking her head as the tip of her tongue presses against the roof of her mouth, Sophie’s eyes take back toward the window as daylight continues to die, the blue of the sky above having become a darker shade halfway between noon and night. “I was a girl who was sick. I was a girl who felt like she was boxed into a corner and had no way to get out other than to do what I did” the girl carries on, looking back to the professional directly opposite herself with a reluctant shake of the head, “I don’t see why that’s anyone’s business other than the people that I’ve hurt, or how that’s anyone’s problem other than my own.” “You don’t see why people are so interested in your story?” Daphne questions, looking for clarification in a way that the audience this interview is meant for can better digest. “The only people that should have interest in what I did or what happens to me now are the people that I affected. Everyone else is just watching out of morbid curiosity and fascination” Sophie concedes, visibly disheartened, “maybe it’d be better if they didn’t focus on my case. I’m like an anchor, and every one less pair of eyes watching me is one less person that I’m weighing down.” “You feel like an anchor?” Daphne queries, watching the smile appear upon the inmate’s face and the nod take shape, validating the conclusion that the professional had come to. “I’ve made it impossible for my family to truly move on. I’ve made it impossible for the families of my victims to move on. I’ve hurt people and I wish that I could take it back more than anything” Sophie replies, stubborn in the stance that she voices, “I’m an awful burden and that troubles me... But it shouldn’t be the trouble of anyone else.” = 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 = > Thursday, 24th November 2039 < “More wine?” Elaine inquires, looking toward her husband with an open bottle in his hand, his hand covering the mouth that he’s stuffed with turkey that he attempts to chew as he nods, pulling away from his plate to free his white shirt from the danger of spilled red. “Can I have some wine?” Liv inquires, letting the stuffing that she’d gathered onto her fork remain suspended in the air as she looks forward with wide eyes, hopeful that her request will be granted. “You’re still not twenty one, dear” Elaine responds, gently filling her husband’s glass as her adopted daughter’s face puts on a feigned look of sadness. “Go ahead and pour her a glass, honey” Andrew corrects, watching both girls look toward him as he shrugs at his wife, wearing a half-smile as he swallows the remnants of the bird that he’d chewed up, “it’s Thanksgiving. She might as well have one glass.” “Can I have-?” Galen proceeds to inquire, slowly going through his words to form a sentence before being interrupted. “You absolutely may not” Elaine replies, looking toward her son before averting her eyes, carrying them toward the child’s father, who lifts his hands in surrender and backs as far away from the table as his chair will allow him to. “I’m not going to fight you on that one” Andrew concedes, earning laughter out of his daughter as she pulls away from the dinner table in the corner and retreats for the cabinet of glasses just to the right of the sink. “In all seriousness though, I had my first drink when I was four” the man comments, watching his college-bound child return with a similar wine glass to the one that they use as his wife looks toward him with surprise. “Really?” Elaine wonders aloud, setting her attention back on the glass that Liv extends toward her, filling it just as she does with their own, “how did you manage to swing that?” Scooping another mound of stuffing between his lips, Andrew pushes the food to the side of his mouth with his tongue and replies. “By stealing my father’s bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet while he was passed out” he comments, amusing both of the women at the table whilst covering his mouth with his fist, finishing the mouthful before continuing to speak. “It tasted awful and I’m pretty sure it’s the earliest memory that I have” Andrew carries on, further bringing subdued laughter over the members of his family that surround the table, “I’m much more fond of the taste now that...” Furrowing her brows as she wipes the excess beverage from her top lip, Liv returns the glass to the table with a surprised look in her eyes, the bitterness of the drink making itself clear through the reaction her visage sports. “I’m glad to see you’re as much of a novice to the taste of our liquor as I’d hoped” Andrew proclaims, gesturing for his wife’s face to take toward their humoured daughter, “you’ve never sifted through our liquor cabinet before and that has never been more obvious.” “It’s stronger than I thought it would be” Liv remarks, earning an unabashed burst of laughter from her father as his head tilts back, both palms pressing against the table’s top whilst Elaine hangs her head behind coupled hands that she props up at the elbow, concealing her amusement as best as she can manage. “Welcome to adulthood! You’ll get more familiar with it when you’re off to college” Andrew reassures, rubbing the girl’s shoulder encouragingly as she licks her lips, still trying to accommodate the strong taste with her palet. “If only any of them would get back to me already” Liv responds, trying to make light of the delay through her humour. “You’re an early applicant. They should be getting around to you by sometime next month” Elaine reassures, reaching across the table to rest her hand atop the young woman’s own, the warmth of her touch bringing a smile upon Liv’s face. “Besides, we have more than enough money to make a donation to that school in Chicago if the worst case scenario arises” Andrew remarks, earning a playful swat at his chest from the woman opposite his daughter. “What!? All good and incredibly wealthy parents show their affection by buying their children nice things!” he jokes, watching his wife’s head fall into her hands as their daughter chuckles, “Liv just happens to not ask for a lot like some other spoiled children, so we buy her a college instead of a car!” “I wouldn’t mind a car if that’s on the table!” Liv quips, pointing at her father as he begins to laugh quietly to himself, his head hanging as Elaine takes over. “You just graduated to a glass of wine on the holidays, don’t start pushing your luck!” the woman jokes, watching her daughter take the turn to lift her hands in a show of surrender, pulling away from the table as the humour settles down, returning them to a peaceful, holiday meal. | “Happy Thanksgiving” Denise remarks, tossing a pair of packaged noodles onto the top bunk of the cell she pokes her head into, surprising the girl that lays atop it with eyes following the barely-visible marks on the ceiling. Sitting up, Sophie looks to the doorway, where the charitable-seeming inmate leans against the doorway, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. “Thank you” Sophie answers in simple terms, not wanting to speak out of line with the uncertainty over the girl’s appearance. “You’re welcome” Denise responds, entering the cell at her own discretion before using the metal toilet as a chair, sitting upon it with one leg thrown over the other, staring at the younger inmate, who dangles her legs off the bunk’s edge as she sits on the overlook. “You’ve been pretty radio silent for the last few weeks, what gives?” the visiting inmate inquires, watching a subdued look of bewilderment come over the resident of the cell. “I’m usually radio silent. That’s kind of why no one has problems with me” Sophie remarks, pressing her arms into the tops of her thighs as she leans inward, answering the comment accordingly. “It’s common courtesy to tell people you’re not interested in teaming up with them if they offer you the chance” Denise remarks, still carrying a calm and composed demeanour toward the girl that she visits. “Why do you even want me to hang around you in the first place? I’ve only ever kept my nose clean in here” Sophie responds, looking toward the ground as she ponders the point, “I don’t know what I have to offer you that someone else out there can too.” “The guards don’t seem to mind you as much as they mind us” Denise responds, leaning against the toilet’s tank whilst crossing her arms, settling into her seat as the conversation continues, “that’s just one thing that could come in handy.” “Come in handy for what?” Sophie interrogates, unable to read between the lines and mostly desiring not to, “the guards don’t do me any favours that they don’t do for you.” With a smile, Denise looks away, removing one hand from her coupling of them to scratch at the back of her neck. “That’s because you don’t ask them to” the woman replies, letting the arm fall back into the other as she speaks, “and the rest of the girls out there... we appreciate that.” “Why?” Sophie wonders aloud, earning a chuckle from the woman that’s approached her, the question of genuine interest being taken as a source of humour by the experienced inmate. “Because you could get privileges that we can’t if you really wanted to and you choose not to take them. You let yourself be on the same level as the rest of us” Denise replies, completely misreading the intention of the prisoner sitting at a slightly higher level than herself, “it’s respectable.” Opening her mouth, Sophie responds to the woman’s comments with silence, letting her lips return together without providing the inmate a reply. “You did get the chance to talk with the press a few weeks ago, but the rest of us are willing to look past that” Denise explains, shaking her head as her eyes veer off toward the barricaded window in the corner of the cell, “but even with that, there’s only so much that good behaviour will get you. You know that, right?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not on good behaviour because I’m trying to deceive anyone, I just don’t want to cause trouble” Sophie comments, choosing her words carefully out of fear that something she’ll say will shed light on something she’d rather sentence to a life of hiding in the shadows. “Sure, but it won’t change anything. You’ll still be here for a while, won’t you?” Denise queries, watching the girl’s face tilt to the side as she takes the question at face value. “I’m up for parole in eight years. I’ve been told that good credit may shorten that, but not by much” Sophie responds, pulling back to correct her posture as her palms palms against the metal supports that her bunk is propped up by. “Sure, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the parole board will let you go” Denise responds, one eyebrow lifting over her right eye as she sports a slight smirk, “two of the people that you killed were a cop and a private eye, right? You think they’ll just let that slide by when they make their call?” “I’m-” Sophie attempts to reply, only for her rebuttal to be cut off by the inmate beneath her immediately, a correction issued quicker than the beige jumpsuit had been when she was first booked. “No, they won’t. You can be as good as you want in here, but you’re still a cop killer to anyone that isn’t one of us” Denise interjects, affirming her conclusion to the woman that falls silent, kept from speaking further without deeper insight. “Maybe they’ll grant you parole after four of five failed tries... enough to really beat you down and disparage you. But not on the first go around” the experienced, older inmate comments, watching the confusion leave Sophie’s flushed face in favour of slight and poorly-subdued concern. “If you’re trying to keep your nose clean and not cause problems so you can get out of here early, you should rethink your strategy... ‘Cause that isn’t it” Denise comments, firm in the stance that her confidence prompts Sophie to lower her eyes at. Staring at the ground, the once-blonde girl now in her mid-twenties lets her worry sink in, feeling the dread of weight that’s brought on by the fear that creeps into her mind. Having nothing more to offer, Denise steps off the pot and ventures beyond the entry to the young woman’s cell, leaving her to consider the circumstances she’s planted into her head and allowed to spread within like a virus attaching itself to a host. Watching the older inmate walk away, Sophie leaves her mind to run through thoughts of concern and worry that cloud her sights, making the floor appear as murky as it had once stopped being once she’d eased her way into this new life. | > Monday, 28th November 2039 < Watering the Tree of Life at the centre of his store, Andrew flips off the warming light before approaching the doors at the front of the shop, locking them shut before venturing past the already-empty terrace extension, the plants that had once resided within it during the summer having long since been sold off or brought inside. Untying the strings of his apron, the man returns the smock to a hook beyond the break room before picking his keys up from the bowl sitting just next to the employee entrance, shutting down the store for the night before climbing into his car and letting it carry him away. Checking his emails, Andrew answers a variety of different plant shops and farmers inquiring about the availability of seeds, which stack up in his inbox before being gradually run through. Clearing one new message after another, he eventually finds himself finished with business for the day with another ten minutes of his drive left, leaving him with free time he has no other use for. Turning off his device, Andrew sets his eyes on the scenery to each side of the road with little satisfaction, seeing nothing more than snow-covered fields and an assortment of trees, none of which sticking out as being a sight worth noting. “Screw it” he murmurs, returning his eyes to his phone before skimming through a list of videos recommended for him, his eyes being met with botany how-to’s, stock market updates and real estate informationals before reaching the podcast section. Having intended to spend his time disregarding one video after another until finally reaching his destination, Andrew’s sights inevitably begin pulling away from the thumbnails and, instead, focus on the text that each box presents beneath them. One after another, the thumbnails and unimportant scrawlings pass the man’s eye like lights in a city that brighten the night, but are not unique from each other in a way worthy of focusing on individually. Eventually breaching the point of the conversational pieces, Andrew’s browser reaches the point where it finally just starts presenting him with videos of the news, affording his sights clips of pictures from across the country and politicians preaching to their supporters before finally prompting his destinationless browsing to cease. Hit by the weight of a bus, Andrew turns off his phone immediately and lowers it to his lap, staring through the windshield with wide eyes as he searches for anything of importance in the world that surrounds his vehicle. For a few seconds, his attention fails to capture anything before it looks back to the map on his dashboard, still presenting him with eight minutes to go on his simple journey back home. Breathing heavily, the man’s hand begins to shake as his palm rests against the back of his device, lips quivering as his leg begins violently bouncing off the mat that his foot repeatedly taps upon. Glancing back to the centre console just in time to watch the eight minute warning turn into the seven minute countdown, Andrew rolls his eyes and sets his sights back on the world outside, trying to preoccupy his mind for the final stretch of his journey before inevitably reaching back for the phone. Watching the screen flood the cabin with light immediately, Andrew’s eyes take beneath the familiar face in the thumbnail in order to read the white letters that form a title beneath it. ‘Sophie Amari Interview’ the title reads, residing beneath a timestamp of just over an hour. As if frozen by both fear and dread, the man looks away from the screen and back toward the road before setting the phone down. Bypassing the automated system, the father buckles himself in and turns the key in its ignition, assuming control of the wheel and pulling the vehicle onto the side of the road, bringing it to a stop before throwing on his hazard lights. Forcing himself to bear no other choice, Andrew pulls the key from the ignition and lets the car power itself down, entrenching him in darkness once more that only the phone’s light changes, returning to the cabin with the press of the man’s fingertip against its screen. Giving himself no other option, the man lets out a long exhale whilst his face takes toward the sky, composing himself just enough for his impulses to let the digit he extends graze the screen and fill his car with more than just the soft sound of his delicate breathing. Looking toward the device, Andrew watches the network’s logo take shape upon the centre of his screen before watching it fade away, revealing a pair of women in the line of a camera within the stuffy, paint-chipping confines of the prison that hosts the interview. “Good evening” the Asian host remarks, greeting the audience that she knows to reside on the other side of the camera, addressing them directly with one leg crossed over the other, a currently-blank notepad resting in her lap. == Generation Alpha == > Monday, 24th October 2039 <
“Do you want me to open up the shop for you on my way?” Elaine inquires, throwing the straps to her purse over her shoulder as she approaches the front door, making a brief trip to a nearby table in order to retrieve her keys. “No, I’ll probably be down there by the time you drop Galen off” Andrew reassures, smiling as he lowers his face into hers for a kiss, his hand gently resting on her lower back, “just come home and be your pretty little self for as long as you want.” Flattered, the woman pats her husband’s chest gently as he steps by, opening the front door for her to walk through, Galen’s feet carrying him through the opening before either can be afforded the chance. Going about their morning routine, Elaine unlocks the door from afar so her son can climb into the vehicle, his excitement to start the school day only matched his mother’s amusement at his haste to begin class. Remaining in the doorway with his hand waving goodbye, Andrew watches the car quietly drive off and leave his home as a peaceful fortress of silence, only the home’s entrance slamming shut as it leaves the father’s hand bringing noise upon the settled floors. Taking a moment for himself, the man lets the hush linger as it prompts a smile to come over his face, the inner-workings seldom ever spent in such solitude within only his presence. Not wanting to waste his time embracing the sound more foreign to him these days than ever before, Andrew journeys over to the couch and begins pushing it back, closer toward the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room as the floor becomes somewhat hollow. Satisfied with just a few feet of space newly created, the man takes to the centre of the room and inspects the floor that seems completely unchanged, investigating the manner in which it resides with both hands on his hips. Nodding to himself, the man takes his moment of pleasure before setting eyes of intent beyond the lids that stay open, his brows furrowing as he ventures through the living room and into the kitchen, eventually spilling out onto the patio that he descends the steps to. Surrounded by a hush on either side, Andrew’s feet collide with the grass of the backyard he’d recently done what he expects to be its final manicure of the year, turning toward the side of the home that he ventures toward. Wearing a pair of pyjama pants, the father lets out a deep sigh and drops to his knees at the edge of the terrace, letting his long-sleeve covered elbows follow suit as the rest of his body embraces the ground. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Andrew embraces his love of nature and fresh dirt that’s seen in his plant shop by ducking his head beneath the wooden structure, digging his hands and the tips of his sock-covered feet into the ground as he crawls forward. Like long bars of light, the new morning sun above falls out of favour with the father’s eyes as he enters the dark crevasse, the natural glow being rendered nothing more than the prolonged strips of illumination that he uses to navigate his way beneath the home. Letting out a long sigh with each extension he’s forced to make, Andrew sets his eyes upon the hole in the home’s concrete edge, a glass pane covering the entry just beneath the above terrace’s kitchen entrance. Reaching his destination, the man’s palm presses against the transparent pane and gradually slides it open, freeing himself a modest gap that he first slides his head and arms through. Reaching up for a handlebar just above the viewing port, Andrew slides his way free from beneath the terrace and lets his legs drop into the space, hanging from the bars for a moment as he steadies his posture and allows himself to drop another two feet into the darkness. Colliding with the ground to the tune of an echo, Andrew takes a pause before standing upright, reaching his hand through the air wildly in search of the string that he eventually locates and gently yanks at. Springing to life beneath the glow of a single, overhead bulb, the wooden-walled room with one a singular window hidden away from the sun’s might presents the new arrival with a rather modest life, very few decorations or accessories welcoming him to the hidden room. Atop a small, blue rug, a grey loveseat sits in the centre of a space half the size of the living room above, a ladder attached to a structural pillar just off to its side leading upward to the same ceiling that covers the quarter’s entire length. In one corner, a standing freezer and a minifridge are tucked away and out of sight whilst a shelf of books is propped against the wall directly opposite them, hosting only a handful of novels- all hardcover and leaning into each other. Venturing further into the stuffy and somewhat warmer than desired area, Andrew turns on a nearby lamp as he approaches a vent built into the hardwood floor, wrapping his fingers around the grate that he uses to tug it out of the ground. Resting it to the side, the father reaches into the pocket and retrieves a cassette tape with ‘in light of the deceased’ scrawled in permanent marker on the white strip atop it. Laying upon one knee, Andrew lets his tape-holding arm rest atop it as he stares across the room in surprise, the inquisition that he’d begun his journey amidst having failed to find a reasonable answer. At a loss for words, the man drops to a seat on the ground and presses his back to the wall, gently returning the cassette to the home that he’s chosen for it before returning the vent’s cover, unable to figure out how his daughter’s line of questions from prior to the weekend had come about. = 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 = > Tuesday, 25th October 2039 < Seated upon the stairs to a higher level whilst purposefully leaning as close to one side as she can manage, Sophie watches the various women in the commons area ahead of her continue about their day whilst minding her own business. Exposing her arms through a sleeveless shirt that hides beneath the beige onesie she wraps the arms of around her waist, the inmate lets her eyes fall to the ground before feeling a gentle tap against her left side. “You want a cigarette?” a brunette woman with her hair tied into a ponytail inquires, extending a smoke that Sophie appreciatively waves off, shaking her head in refusal as the woman rounds the bannister. “Your roommate keeping her nose clean?” the generous inmate questions, lifting a dart to her own lips before striking a match, lighting the end as the younger prisoner she interrogates nods in approval. “I haven’t been hearing anything bad from anyone. She hasn’t been telling me anything bad about any of you” Sophie replies, shrugging her shoulders as she remains stationed upon the third-lowest stair, “if any of that isn’t true, just let me know, Denise.” “I’m just making sure we’ve got our one problem settled. That’s all” Denise responds, stepping to the opposite side of the staircase with an arm draped over the railing, leaving the seat beside her fellow inmate unoccupied. “Why are you still here then?” Sophie wonders aloud, a slight squint in her eyes carried to the other woman, “is there something you need?” “Your papers said you had another- what- eight years before your earliest shot at parole, right?” Denise questions back, taking a hit from the stick of tobacco whilst looking out at the crowd of similarly-drab prison suits, “that’s a long time to spend without people watching your back, little girl.” “It’s just as long as the time that I’ve already gone without having people watch my back” Sophie replies, continuing to press her side against the cold, metal bars of the steep staircase, “I’ve already told you... I’d prefer to keep my nose out of your business.” Blowing smoke into the air as she takes the younger woman’s comments into thought, Denise continues to stare out at the incarcerated gathering whilst pulling at her dart. “Your cellmate ran her mouth and it put you in the centre of attention. You got the new girl to keep her nose clean too, but you’ve already seen what happens when you’ve got an expectation from us” the inmate retorts, shaking her head disapprovingly at those who occupy various seats at a variety of tables ahead of her. “You’re a target of no one now, but it doesn’t take much for things to go wrong. Instead of being in no one’s eyesight, you can quickly become everyone’s target” Denise explains, looking back at the girl that now stares out at the populace ahead of her. Thinking quietly to herself, Sophie inspects the communal hall where the rest of the prisoners socialise in their various groups, taking the sight in just as she spends most days doing so. “Let’s say you keep your nose clean and make parole in eight years, right? What do you think will happen when the others find out you’re getting released?” Denise inquires, allowing the continued remarks that she makes to settle within the mind of the girl beside her, “most of us don’t mind you, but I’m sure there are a handful of girls in this place that’ll feel a bit jealous of you being able to get out of here when they don’t get to be... Especially with how light your sentence was for the shit that you did compared to theirs.” Wearing the same unchanged expression that she normally adorns, Sophie lets her head pull off to face the woman beside her, seeing the wrinkles along the cheek of the girl that continues to drag on her dart as if today were just like any other. “The last seven years have been pretty boring, right? Every day feels like it’s a week long, right?” Denise inquires, continuing to speak without looking toward her fellow inmate, “don’t you just get tired of sitting in your cell and reading every day?” “I’ve survived” Sophie responds, not wasting a beat in order to offer the woman beside her a reply worthy of re-earning the line of her sight, the cigarette’s orange glow dying out as it’s pulled from her lips, replaced with an exhale that clouds the stingy air between them. “I don’t want to cause anyone here trouble. Even if it’s a small amount, I’d like to think that’s earned a little bit of respect” the girl continues, adamant in her declaration beyond doubt, “no matter what, though... It’s helped me survive for seven years.” Letting her teeth shine through her lips, Denise nods to herself and returns her eyes toward the inmates that sprawl out amongst the commons floor, taking the girl’s comments into consideration. “Can it help you survive for eight more, though?” she wonders aloud, lifting an eyebrow that she carries back toward the girl beside her, not needing an answer to the question that she walks away on, returning to the compound’s larger interior whilst Sophie watches on, letting the inquiry settle upon her brain like an amoeba. | > Wednesday, 26th October 2039 < “Why won’t you tell me how it’s been going between the two of you?” Derby inquires, sitting on the floor at the end of her bed whilst doing a crossword puzzle on her phone, “you’ve been staying over here since last week! How can you not give me just a clue about how it’s been going?” Shaking her head with an amused grin carried over her visage, Liv plays a crossword of her own whilst laying atop her friend’s recently-made bed, her face directed toward the side of the bed that her pal sits ahead of. “Because nothing’s been going on” the girl concedes, shaking her head in refusal as she continues to present her teeth, addressing the room’s main occupant whilst typing in the answer to one row, “I haven’t gone on a second date with him.” “Why not?” Derby inquires, suddenly letting the phone fall from her palm and come to a rest upon her carpeted floor, allowing her to spring up and turn her body to face her friend. “Because he and I just don’t mesh very well” Liv responds, finishing her answer before turning off the phone and sitting upright on the bed, allowing her friend to climb up and share the space with her. “He was a gentleman and as nice as you can ask for, but I don’t think either of us are the kind of people ready to be in a relationship” Liv responds, having come to a conclusion that leaves her remaining on her lonesome. “How did he take it?” Derby wonders aloud, begging the question that her friend knew would be around the corner sooner or later, but doesn’t take pleasure in answering. “Well, I had to explain that it wasn’t his fault at first if that gives you any clue” Liv responds, clearly remorseful for the news that she’d had to break, “he wasn’t happy. I’d like to think he understood by the time I left, though.” Apologetic, Derby takes note of her friend’s glum demeanour before patting her on the knee, feeling regretful for having spent so much time asking about what never had much point to being asked in the first place. “Now I feel like an ass for constantly bringing it up” Derby remarks, frowning as she looks toward the side of her room, quickly being freed of her guilt by the reassurance that her friend returns to her. “You were just interested. I don’t blame you” Liv responds, smiling as she wraps an arm around her slightly less disheartened friend, pressing their sides together as they both laugh. Letting their amusement carry the mood of the room forward, the girls remain within each other’s presence as they stare into the distance of the room, surrounded on all sides by glowing lights dipping into different colours of the rainbow at random intervals. Without uttering a word, Derby allows the silence to persist before narrowing her eyes, intrigued by one circumstance yet to be explained. “So, why have you been staying here for so long?” she wonders aloud, looking at the girl sitting beside her on the bed whilst the soul questioned keeps her eyes at a distance. Lowering her bottom lip just slightly, Liv searches through her head in search of a worthy reply as if she were searching for a pair of car keys in a cluttered coat closet. Eventually bowing her head, the home’s visitor shakes her head with as much of a grin as she can put on, not knowing how to answer. “Just an argument with my dad that I don’t really want to get into right now” Liv explains, trying her best to disregard the question in a way that doesn’t leave one of her only acquaintances feeling like she’d asked the wrong line of questions again. “I’d rather not be around there while it’s boiling down, so I’ve been staying here for a little bit” she furthers, wearing an approachable visage as if trying to offer a disincentive to prevent Derby from asking anything further. | > Thursday, 27th October 2039 < “Welcome!” Andrew proclaims at the sound of the bell in the front of his shop, stepping out from the back of the store before finding surprise in who he watches enter the storefront. “Thank you! I feel very welcomed!” Elaine responds, approaching the front counter as her bag falls from the top of her shoulder, being gently placed atop the register as she ventures around it. “What are you doing here?” her husband wonders aloud, pausing as their faces press together for a kiss before continuing his inquisition, “I thought you had a yoga class you go to on Wednesday mornings?” Her eyelids squinting, Elaine leans back in her lover’s arms with a polite grin, humoured by the question that’s been raised to her. “It’s Thursday, honey” his wife replies, looking at the man as his mouth goes somewhat wide before shaking her head at a loss for context, “did you still think it’s Wednesday?” With both palms pressing against the sides of the woman’s shoulders, Andrew hangs his head with a grin and begins laughing quietly, provoking a much more noticeable amusement from the chuckle that his lover takes on. “I’m losing my goddamn mind, aren’t I?” the father questions back, holding his wife tighter as her body’s weight shifts back, her head tilting as far away as it can as she breaks into a fit of laughter that bounces off each wall like an echo in a wind tunnel. “That was not your finest moment, honey” Elaine quips, still fighting through her giggle to compose herself, “I’m just dropping by to see how you’d feel about a family dinner tomorrow night?” “I’d be all up for it, of course!” Andrew responds, not missing a beat in voicing his approval for the idea that he’s uncertain of the need to ask for, “why wouldn’t I be?” Pressing her lips together as she gently sways her head, Elaine sucks on her tongue to the faint sound of a dull hiss, staring away as she takes the question. “It’s not that you would have a problem with it, but Liv might” she confesses, watching a look of surprise take shape on her husband’s face, “she’s been staying at Derby’s house for almost a week. I don’t want to get into whatever it was between you two that made her want to stay over for so long, but I was hoping that- whatever the problem was... It’d be solvable before tomorrow night?” “I see, so this is you asking me to ‘bury the hatchet’ for lack of a better term before tomorrow night?” Andrew inquires, seeing a hopeful-yet-doubtful face take shape before his eyes. “I don’t want to get involved in whatever it is, so I’m going to try not to overstep any boundaries” Elaine restates, remaining within the gentle caressing of her husband’s grasp, “but I really don’t want anyone of us at odds when we’ve only got so long left with each other.” Letting his eyes fall, Andrew thinks quietly to himself before feeling his wife’s hasty attempt at reassurance take shape in the hands that she rests on either side of his face. “Shit, I didn’t mean to make you feel-” Elaine attempts to apologise, only for her efforts to be thwarted as her husband’s smile meets her eyes, his hands relocating from her sides to the backs of each hand she places against his visage, coupling them together in his own palms as he nullifies her concern. “No, no... It’s fine. You’re right, our differences aren’t much to settle” Andrew assures, watching his wife’s relief roll in like tides upon a sandy beach as the sun begins to set, “I’ll pick her up from school early tomorrow, take her out to a light lunch, and we’ll put this to bed.” “You’re sure?” Elaine inquires, making sure she hadn’t overstepped any unstated lines in this approach, being granted the freedom of knowing that she hadn’t in her husband’s lean forward, his lips pressing against her own. “We have less than a year before our little girl is off to college and we head south. You’re right...” Andrew promises, freeing one hand from his wife’s before taking the knuckle of his index finger and resting it below her chin, “we’ve got no time to waste when it comes to family anymore.” | > Friday, 28th October 2039 < “You didn’t need to pull me out of school for this conversation” Liv remarks, stepping through the plant shop’s employee entrance as her father follows closely behind, locking his car as he enters the building. “I would’ve rather had it at home, but you’ve decided to take a vacation from it” Andrew responds, freeing his arms from the coat that he hangs on a hook just beside his daughter’s own. Stepping into the store’s public area, Liv approaches the building’s centre column and gently runs her knuckle down the length of a leaf that stretches beyond the plant that wraps around the concrete post, hugging it tight and stretching into the walkway. “Do you like it?” Andrew inquires, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter, taking notice of his daughter’s intrigue with the plantlife that frequently catches his patron’s eyes. “This is the ‘Tree of Life’, right?” Liv wonders aloud, pointing toward the stretching expanse of vines and greenery that squeeze upon the concrete block like a snake wrapping around the tiny body of its prey. “It is. It’s the one part of the building that I actively let nature reclaim” Andrew responds, pointing toward the ground that the central column starts out of, “there’s ten foot-deep hole that I dug around the column when I first bought the place, made a custom pot and filled with soil.” “So this thing is an actual plant?” Liv inquires, looking toward the base of the structure that shields her father and herself from the chill of the air just beyond their storefront, inspecting it all the way to the ceiling. “It’s as much of a real plant as a part of nature as you can get in a building like this” Andrew responds, tapping the countertop as he quietly wanders around it, approaching the centre column with appreciative eyes and a wide grin whilst his hands rest in his pockets. “Why?” Liv inquires, holding appreciation for its simplicity and its natural beauty, but curious as to her father’s inspiration, “why go through all the trouble if it’ll just be a decoration piece?” Laughing, Andrew frees one hand from his pocket and gently runs his finger down the length of the plant’s smooth leaves and vines, grazing the active life with the warmth from his limb. “Because it’s not really a decoration piece in the way that it’s a symbolic piece that I had less room to install at the house than I did here” he confesses, reaching toward the ground to pick up a spray bottle he begins gently pulling the lever of. “When I left the place where I grew up and moved down here, I felt like I had finally found a home where I could put my roots down. I felt like this reflected that well” the man continues, giving a peek into his youth in a manner that he seldom does. “Over time, it’s represented a lot to me. Everything is in check and alright as long as this plant- whatever you want to call its jumbled-together, Frankenstein-like state- is alive” Andrew further confesses, shrugging his shoulders as he continues to water the length of the flora, his daughter’s feet stepping back to free him the space to do so. “You have to remember that I didn’t have much when I first came down here. This was supposed to be symbolic for me, and for Sophie, and for the life that I wanted to live here” the man concludes, flipping a switch to activate the artificial warming light above, providing the indoor plant with the closest thing it receives to natural sunlight aside from the warmth that spills through the windows when the space-bound star is at an angle in the midwestern sky. “I’ve never heard you talk about your childhood before” Liv confesses, hanging her head in a way that her father doesn’t take much concern over, not wanting to confuse it for something that it’s not. “That’s because there’s very little that’s pleasant to talk about” Andrew responds, continuing to spray at the plant in the centre of the room as he speaks, repeatedly circling the column whilst he does, “that’s why I took surprise in your interest about my parents last week.” Remaining silent, Liv keeps her distance from the central display of flora relishing in the warm glow overhead as her father comes to a sudden stop, turning to face her with the spray bottle still in hand. Wearing a straight face and concealing any expression that could be considered humorous, Andrew lowers the bottle back toward the ground and looks his daughter in the eyes, not wanting to present his claims in any way that could be considered ingenuine. “I killed them... both of them” he confesses, surprising the girl in a way that prompts her eyelids to widen, shocked beyond what she could’ve expected in the wake of the man’s admission. “There’s a reason why I’m not in prison right now and it’s not because I’ve never been caught for it. It’s because the police knew I had no other choice... Self-defence” Andrew continues, slightly relaxing the girl as much as she can manage to be in the wake of such a remark. “Sophie’s mom was in rehab at the time and my parents were incredibly untrustworthy people. So I quietly made them the beneficiaries of a life insurance claim in the event that something happened to me” the father carries on, watched more intently and with less shock by the girl, who continues to hear him out. “Morgan was in rehab, so I didn’t want to burden her with that. I didn’t want to leave Sophie without a father and money. So the only option I had were my parents” Andrew continues to explain, lowering himself to the ground to ensure his daughter is more comforted by the high ground she now receives the benefit of. “They took me into the woods on what they called a ‘hunting trip’ and tried to shoot me for the money” he concludes, shaking his head with a sorrowful frown, “I got them both before they could get me.” “Why are you telling me this?” Liv suddenly inquires, watching the man look up to her as she voices the question, his eyes falling as he shakes his head in disappointment. “Because I know someone must’ve brought my parents to your attention and you deserve to know what happened to them” Andrew answers, not needing to offer much more than that to serve his point, “they were terrible people. The police knew what happened, told me to take Sophie and get out of town while they called it a murder-suicide.” “What does someone else telling me about that have to do with any of this?” Liv inquires, watching her father calmly rest his back against one of the shelving units his display plants sit atop. “Because this was something I never expected to have to tell anyone. But, now it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice” Andrew explains, shaking his head as he bends one knee toward himself, resting his wrist over the top of it. “But since something brought this to your attention, I want to know why” he continues, motivated by getting to the bottom of whatever explanation it may be, “there’s not much more of a choice that I have but to explain what happened if there’s something forcing me to come clean about it. And ever since what happened with your sister, I felt like it was best if you knew that what your father did was not the same thing.” “What does it matter how I found out?” Liv questions back, emotionally challenging the importance of anything that clouds their conversation, sticking over it like fog clouding a small town. “Because if there’s something out there that’s trying to paint me out like I’m some soulless murderer like your...” Andrew replies, extending his hand toward the shop’s front door before pausing, choosing not to finish his sentence before finishing his point, “...I want to know why.” Met with a lot of information to take in, Liv looks toward the shop’s windows and the night that falls over their quiet little town, looking for solace without being able to find much of a source for it. Extending an olive branch of trust to his eldest-recognised, Andrew looks toward the girl as her head falls, eyes taking toward the ground as her face sours, bringing to the surface the guts she struggles to prevent from spilling. “Coleen’s friends at school. Leila and Elva” Liv confesses, surprising her father in a way that brings him confusion, “they say that Coleen’s dad wouldn’t have done what he did. They’re suggesting that you had something to do with what happened to them.” With his expression unchanged, Andrew’s eyes fall toward the ground as his face reserves an unpleasant scowl, his relaxed posture remaining intact despite a tension finding its way through the muscles of his arms. “It’s not true, right?” Liv wonders aloud, prompting her father to look up at her, having missed her question the first time around, “you didn’t have anything to do with it, right?” As if bewildered, Andrew shakes his head in refusal as he climbs off the ground, “no, honey! Of course not!” he replies with absolute confidence, taking his daughter’s sides into his hands as he looks her in the eyes, making his statement clear beyond doubt, “what happened to those people is a tragedy, but I had nothing to do with it.” Nodding with as much acceptance as she can present, Liv lets her eyes drift to the side before her face is taken into her father’s hands, redirecting her sights toward his own as he doubles down on his statement. “Your father is not a monster. He is not a murderer, and he is not what anyone could try to convince you that he is” Andrew vows, pausing for a moment before wrapping his arms around his child and pulling her into a hug, “I’m a devoted father... Nothing more, nothing less.” Reciprocating the gesture, Liv locks her arms around her father’s waist and tilts her head into his chest, resting it upon his person in both grief and comfort whilst her father stares blankly across the store. Pressing his chin against the top of his child’s head, Andrew lets his eyes bobble from one side of the shop to the other, struggling to register the implications of what his child tells him before opting to put it all to bed for the time being, his eyes closing as he takes in the warmth of their embrace and the tranquillity brought along with it. == Generation Alpha == > Saturday, 1st October 2039 <
“We could come down in a few weeks, but I’d have to wait until we’re closer to the end of the year before I could make any specific estimate” Andrew confesses, leaning against the kitchen counter as he runs his hands down the length of his wrinkled t-shirt, a smile coming over his face at the response he receives. “That sounds perfect, thank you very much” the man remarks, carrying his smile into the call’s conclusion before he whips his arm through the air, ending the brief conversation whilst his amused wife watches on. “Was that the realtor?” Elaine inquires, sitting at the kitchen’s island with a glass of orange juice seated beside her cell phone, which her finger gradually runs across the screen of to swipe from one news article to the next. “She’s got twenty six different homes on the market across the five different neighbourhoods we were looking at” Andrew replies, slipping the earbuds from the slots at either side of his head before slipping them into the case built into the back of his phone’s case. “That sounds like a lot of driving” Elaine replies, leaning forward in her seat with her right leg crossed over the left, reaching for the juice that she pauses to take a sip from, “I’m guessing that we’ll have to be in town for more than just a day to see them all?” Rounding the counter as he gently presses his hand into his wife’s side, Andrew leans in and plants a kiss on her cheek, his eyes looking toward the screen that she reads one headline after another from. “It’ll be the home that we spend the rest of our lives in, my love” he responds, resting his head against the woman’s own as her finger swipes past one article after another, headlines that she has no interest in continuing to flash before her eyes and be discarded like an empty carton of milk. “We once thought the same thing about this house not too long ago” Elaine replies, shrugging as she immediately finds a challenge in her own statement, “well, I did at least.” Amused, Andrew presses his lips to the top of the woman’s head once more and begins stepping away, parting his lips to reply before falling silent just as his wife does, their eyes finding the online tab that falls inches beneath the finger of the home’s matriarch. Not speaking at first, both adults remain where they were left as Elaine lets her hand roll onto its back, taking the finger that had obstructed the image upon the screen along with it. With steady eyes that refuse to move, Andrew stares at the display with his body halfway turned toward the kitchen sink, one arm still extending toward the direction he’d intended to venture before an utter freeze had assumed control of his body. Drawn to the allure of the sight on her phone, Elaine continues to stare for a moment before instinctively reaching for it, opening the article advertised to her and expanding the written column. “Close it” Andrew murmurs, watching the mother to his children look toward him for the first time since seeing the display, his posture correcting itself as he snaps out of the momentary trance he’d been placed into. Without uttering a word in response, Elaine does as instructed, tapping the screen to close the website before flipping forward a few columns, sentencing the unfamiliar journal entry an author she didn’t get the chance to identify to vanish with the rest of the ones that she’d skimmed. Satisfied with the woman’s action, Andrew finds himself continuing to stir with his annoyance before looking toward the backyard, his tongue running against the top of his lower lip as he wanders off. “Are you-?” his wife inquires, only to fall silent as his hand lifts into the air, showing her his palm in a gesture to not be questioned on the matter. “I need a minute” Andrew confesses, travelling across the kitchen and stepping through the patio door without warning, leaving the woman behind with the phone still laying on the countertop just inches away. Quickly flipping back to the original article, Elaine saves the column for later view before turning off the device altogether, leaving her seat to follow her husband into the backyard. Unable to be heard, the couple continue to talk within the full view of the upstairs bathroom, where a curious set of eyes views them from the slots of the blinds that cover the window. Unsure of what’s being said, Liv inspects the couple and the odd manner in which they interact, neither angry or outright upset, but still consoling each other as if they’d just fought or were within great sorrow. Shaking her head without any understanding for context, the young woman returns the brush to her teeth and finishes off caring for her smile, concluding the process that frees her to venture back to her bedroom across the hall. In little more than a baggy t-shirt and a pair of very short, but loose-ended shorts, Liv rubs at her eyes and journeys toward her computer, opening the cover and setting her sights upon the homescreen. After a few clicks, the girl carries her cursor toward the browser and takes toward the search bar, intending to look up her school’s website before the suggestions tab that opens below catches her eye. At the bottom of a dozen different searches, her sister’s name is presented in bold, purple text. One new search away from being completely scrubbed from her immediate history, Sophie’s name hides just above the legal speak printed near the bottom of the webpage and calls for the attention of her younger sister. Furrowing her brows, Liv stares at the name as if it had been calling for her, clicking its tongue against the roof of its non-existent mouth in a way that draws her in like she’s a moth to the open flame. Intrigued nonetheless, she carries her hand back to the wireless mouse beside the computer and guides her cursor onto her older sibling’s name, clicking the left tab once before watching the browser open an assortment of new articles at what feels like the speed of light. Finding its way to her line of sight, Sophie’s image springs upon Liv like an oncoming car’s headlights draw near to a stoic deer, front and centre upon the display atop a fixture of bold, black lettering. “Convicted murderer to hold first interview since arrest next month” the top article reads like a man shouting through coupled hands into a wind tunnel, finding their way to the recently-awoken girl with inquisitive eyes. Depicting an image of Sophie in an orange jumpsuit with tired eyes and blonde locks that she hasn’t had in years, the article remains Liv’s sole focus for as long as it takes a set of footsteps at the end of the hall to begin approaching from afar. Instinctively closing the device’s top, Liv spins around in her computer chair to face the door, waiting for the footsteps to make their way toward her before watching the shadow of the figure that sets them down pass her quarters by, venturing onward to her parent’s room. Her shoulders tense and breath held, the nightwear-donning student waits a few seconds before releasing her suddenly-anxious demeanour, having been encapsulated by the sudden urge to erect a defence as if an armed assault were knocking at her door. For a minute, the girl remains seated in silence before hearing the footsteps close in once more, passing by her room without interruption just as they had moments prior, their gradual continuation carrying the soul down the stairs and back into the kitchen, beyond Liv’s ear. Again turning in her seat, the young woman pulls her laptop’s cover open and stares into the bright display, finding her sister’s distraught face looking toward the camera that had snapped the picture, her tired expression being amongst the final sights she remembers of her sibling. Staring intently at the face that appears as if it’s looking directly at her, Liv refuses to let the illustration slip from her mind as it burns itself into her memory just as it had all those years prior. No longer feeling the weight of her prior night’s slumber, but instead the intense recollection of her sibling’s face and the torment that- at the worst of her condition- she always remained privy to, the girl continues to sit with her empty thoughts, only zeroing in on her sibling’s phizog with a blank, emotionless stare. = 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 = > Thursday, 20th October 2039 < “Ms. Cohen, you’re not dressed appropriately... again” Mr. Calhoun remarks, standing in the corner with an apple in his hand, watching the rebellious young lady pass by, having failed to notice his presence at first. “You told me to wear a shirt that didn’t display profanity or unpleasant imagery, Mr. Calhoun” Derby remarks with a smirk, laughing as she begins to stake her claim, “what’s wrong with my wardrobe this time?” Dressed in a pair of unripped, black jeans accompanied by a pair of simple running shoes and a grey, long-sleeved shirt, it’s the black, graphic t-shirt sporting a Japanese cartoon character and eastern lettering that catches the much older gentleman’s eyes. “Can you read Japanese, Ms. Cohen?” the teacher inquires, lowering the apple from his face to his lap, where he stands with one arm wrapped around the wrist of the other, an amused expression carried over his visage as he offers the young woman an out. “No, do you?” Derby retorts, watching the grin only deepen across the man’s face as he stands upright, pushing his back away from the concrete wall that it had leaned against. “I taught English in Osaka for six years. Part of the requirement to teach in Japan is that you’re proficient in speaking, writing, and reading the language” Calhoun rebuttals, removing his fingers from their grasp around his wrist before pointing down the length of the young woman’s person, “that shirt bears language that I prefer not to repeat aloud.” Furrowing her brows, Derby looks toward her shirt and pulls it away from her body, inspecting the depiction without certainty. “I won’t write you up this time, but I don’t want to see you in another t-shirt that you can’t read yourself again” Calhoun remarks, turning his back toward the student as he walks away, speaking as he journeys toward his next class, “it’s almost as bad of an oversight as people who get tattoos in languages that they can’t, themselves, read.” Frowning, Derby sighs in defeat with less reluctance than if she’d gotten sentenced to yet another day’s worth of detention, accepting her commands before carrying on. “How’s it going, little one?” she eventually questions aloud, travelling far enough to pass Liv as they walk in different directions. “Hi-ya, armadillo” the youngest Carrion daughter replies, looking over her shoulders as their paths intersect with one another. “Yesterday I was a penguin, and today... I’m an armadillo?” Derby queries, turning her back toward the direction that she heads in so as to address the girl that now does much the same, interacting for as long as their collective presence remains within the brief stretch of hallway. “The character on your shirt looks like an armadillo” Liv quips, pointing toward the strange animal-appearing human depicted on her friend’s shirt. “He’s not an armadillo!” Derby proclaims with a smile, humoured by the comparison that she fails to see as clearly as it appears her pal has. “He still looks like one, armadillo!” Liv proclaims, offering her departing comments as the corner toward her next stretch of passageway consumes her, “see you in sixth period!” Waving goodbye, Derby carries on with her journey whilst the well-mannered senior continues the walk she’d already been amidst, travelling for as far as the journey will take her before watching a pair of girls quietly exit a bathroom just some feet away. Paying Liv the crudest side-eye that they can present, Leila and Elva watch the girl carry past them and come to a stop, taking notice of the expression that they made no attempt to hide. “What do you want?” Liv wonders aloud, stopping the stroll she’d taken in the direction of her next class to address those who’d gone out of their way to capture her attention with very little effort. “Nothing from you” Elva responds, taking the initiative to offer the comment a reply, standing just off to the side of her mostly-subdued friend, who carries on with her judgemental stare. “Then what’s with the side-eye?” Liv inquires, letting the books that she holds against her right forearm hang by her side, swaying slowly by her hip as she waits for an answer. Looking toward Leila, the cold-demeanour student taps her friend on the shoulder and begins stepping back. Without replying, Elva leads the journey away from the girl they’d once used to bully, only to now find themselves stronger together, but incredibly weakened with the absence of their once-leader. Rolling her eyes, Liv sports a grin that her adversaries don’t fail to notice, their care to address it, however, failing to present itself. “I’m sorry your friend is dead, but you’re gonna have to start learning how to talk for yourself now that she’s gone” the unphased, yet outnumbered student proclaims, poking fun at the girls just as they’d once done to her, feeling no shame as she does, “if you’re gonna look at me with those faces, at least have the balls to explain why.” Finding no point in furthering an argument with an unpleasant host party, Liv turns back toward the journey she’d yet to complete and takes a few steps forward, surprised to find a voice call out for her after a few yards had been covered. “Your family is hiding something, aren’t they?” Leila calls out, prompting the lone Carrion child to attend the school to turn back, eyes placing themselves upon the girls that never passed up an opportunity to put her on the ground. “What is that supposed to mean?” Liv inquires, remaining in her place roughly a dozen yards away, arms continuing to hang by each side as the young woman who’d addressed her steps forward, suddenly emboldened by her own remark. “Coleen’s mom and dad had problems, but Mr. Wolf would’ve never hurt either of them” Leila proclaims, setting her feet into the quicksand-like stance that she’s taken, driving herself further into the enrapturing pit with each word. “Are you insinuating something?” the confronted teenager questions aloud, stepping forward to close the distance between herself and those who oppose her, only to come to a sudden stop when she sees them retreat in kind. Keeping her thoughts to herself at first, Leila continues to back away in lieu of the lack of a third party around them, the doors to classrooms on either side of the hallway that they occupy all remaining shut, unattended and empty just as the corridor they’re surrounded by. Hesitant to put their feet too close to the metaphorical fire that they’re feeding with their comments, the two girls keep their distance and remain composed, though they hide their worry for the prospects that surround the discourse they openly take part in. “I just find it really odd that her whole family would be killed just a day after the person who put your sister’s movie together did” Leila replies, standing firm in her declaration with legs unsteady enough to sway beneath the push of a gentle breeze. “I find it weird that the guy who was taking your dad to court just went missing a few weeks before that too” Elva adds on, watching the shift in their classmate’s expression take shape slowly, solidifying the longer that they speak. “Last time I heard, your sister was still in prison. Unless you snuck her out to take care of things, there must be someone else in your family with blood on their hands if all of this adds up” Leila concludes. “If you’re trying to accuse me of being a serial killer, I think you’ll find it really difficult to argue that-” Liv begins to rejoin, having heard enough of the accusations for her own good, though she can’t finish her rebuttal before being corrected. “I’m not saying that you had anything to do with it... Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you did” Leila responds, prompting the girl across from them to fall silent, her eyelids narrowing closer together as she fails to see what the women opposite her are trying to allude to. With a brief shake of her head, Liv displays her confusion in a way that provokes the girls into continuing, Leila’s momentary glance back toward the friend that stands behind her lending her a moment of courage. “We looked up you and your family online after what happened with Coleen. If one sister can kill people that she didn’t like, why should we think the other one wouldn’t?” the girl questions aloud, shrugging her shoulders as she forces herself to continue speaking. “It’s pretty weird that your grandfather killed his wife and then shot himself in the woods... It seems kind of similar to what they’re saying Mr. Wolf did” Leila declares, further confusing the student that stands against them, throwing her for a loop that she doesn’t know what to make of. “We should stop” Elva whispers, prompting her friend to turn back and look her in the eyes, seeing the concern that the conversation has brought about, “we’ve already said more than we should have.” “We’ll take care of it. She won’t get away with anything if she does something to us” Leila reassures, offering as subtle of a nod as she can muster before guiding her sights back toward the subject of her ire. “If you think my dad killed your friend and then went through all of this to frame her dad, you’ve gone insane” Liv responds, shaking her head with a smile as she brushes the notion away. “Your family already made one murderer, there’s no reason that we have to believe there wouldn’t be more” Leila retorts, matching the declaration that her adversary makes with one of her own, ensuring that it holds equal weight, “it’d make more sense that your sister would just be one of those ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ things people talk about.” Shaking her head, Liv flusters herself in a way where she can’t help but chuckle and scoff at the notion presented, beginning to retreat toward the direction she’d meant to venture without anything more to say. “The two of you don’t know what you’re talking about” she mutters, turning her back toward the students before continuing on, hearing their distant footsteps carry themselves away at the anxious behest of the more reserved of the two. Trying to complete her travels, Liv’s mind fails to find itself falling upon anything more noteworthy than the suggestion implied, her amused expression beginning to collapse in favour of trying to question the sense in what’s been proposed. Scowling out of sheer loss for words, the girl’s understanding makes itself notable absent as she tries to throw the thoughts of even entertaining the claims aside, wanting to place her mind toward the class she’s already late for. | > Friday, 21st October 2039 < Violently shaking her hand through the air, Liv eases the tension within her fingers as she reaches for the mechanical pencil once more, resting the side of her hand against a page mostly-covered in scrawlings as a knock at the door catches her attention. “Yeah!?” she calls out, granting permission for the figure on the opposite end to enter whilst she stares at the page, finishing off the five words she has left to take down before completing her sentence. “Your mom said you weren’t feeling well and just wanted to work, but we’re ordering pizza” Andrew remarks, only beginning to speak once his daughter’s chair begins to swivel toward his direction, “do you think you’re feeling good enough to eat a few slices?” With a slight lift in her eyelids, Liv looks to the man with great focus before letting her sights drift off to the corner of her room, an expression of unsureness taking shape. “I don’t think so. I have a lot of homework left anyway, so I should probably just...” the girl replies, letting her response fade off as she bobs her head toward the direction of her desk, allowing the man to take the hint on his own. “Got it. Just let us know if you need anything” Andrew replies, taking the girl’s comments for what they’re worth before turning away, his hand wrapping around the shape of the doorknob as the girl’s voice resumes once more. “Actually, I have a couple questions that I wanted to ask you. Do you mind?” Liv wonders aloud, prompting her father to turn back and face her, his visage filling up with enthusiasm. “Sure, fire away” Andrew assures, closing the door behind himself as he approaches the girl’s bed, taking a seat on the edge of it as he faces his oldest-recognised offspring, hands coupling together in his lap. “I’m just doing this project for class and I need some input from you” the hard-at-work student begins, crossing one leg over the other as she settles her notebook atop the makeshift desk that it forms. “It’s a family tree that I’m supposed to inspect and find comparisons with” Liv reiterates, noticing the most-subtle shift in the expression that her father wears, “I’d use one of those websites, but I don’t think it would give me as much insight as you would.” Puckering his lips as he stares at the ground, the father pulls in a deep breath and settles in, freeing his hands from the union they share with each other to pat the tops of his thighs. “I’m not sure how much my insight will benefit you, but I’m happy to give you what I can” Andrew responds, giving the young woman a nod of reassurance as he takes his hands and motions at her to come at him like she’s a boxer on the other side of the ring he’s taunting, “bring them on, Ms. Carrion.” Pleased with the openness that she receives thus far, Liv looks toward her notebook and begins jotting down lines in random sections of the page, making it appear as if she were setting out a rather odd-looking tree whilst trying to not let in suspicion. “First off, who are my grandparents on either side of the family?” she wonders aloud, watching her father’s eyes drift to the side of the room as he thinks long and hard about the question. “Daria’s... oop, sorry. Your mother... her parents were...” Andrew explains, only to find himself interrupted momentarily by the woman across from him. “I already know their names. I remember hearing about them when I was little” Liv clarifies, not wanting to go into the rabbit hole without watching the journey that comes along with the descent, “I was asking more about them as people.” Nodding, Andrew lets his understanding settle in before leaning back on the bed, looking toward the ceiling as he remembers all that he can. “Daria’s mother was involved in finance and her father passed away when she was a teenager from a motorcycle incident” the man remarks, trying to think back as far as he can, “I never met her father, but her mother was incredibly decent. She was very smart, very organised, and thought highly of me from what she said.” Nodding along, Liv lifts her notebook toward the ceiling to obstruct the man’s view of her pages, the swirling of her pencil on the paper marking down nothing of legible note. “She passed a few months after Daria did. She had been diagnosed with stomach cancer a little over a year before you were born...” Andrew comments, nodding along with the grim and upsetting recollection he forces himself to bear in the name of the greater good behind his daughter’s assignment, “...your mother’s passing probably didn’t help all that much.” “What about your parents?” Liv inquires, swirling her pencil and its doodle-like graphite tip a few further times before looking up, finding her father’s blank stare and semi-remorseful expression looking back at her. Pressing his lips together, the man lets his eyes veer toward the side as he visibly struggles to say anything regardless of whether or not it holds value to the conversation. “Your grandparents on my side were incredibly troubled people that- as cruel as it sounds- I’m deeply relieved never got the chance to meet you” Andrew responds, nodding to himself with the answer that he’d come up with, feeling proud of the pleasant way in which he’d managed to spin their existence. “What do you mean by ‘troubled’?” Liv inquires, carrying a squint toward the man as she leans forward, pressing the hand in which her pencil resides against the base of her chin, propping her head as she looks to the man, “like they were mentally ill?” “No. Well, they certainly may have been mentally ill. They were irresponsible with money and never actually cared to be parents. If you consider gambling to be a mental illness, then you could certainly say they were mentally unwell” Andrew assures, looking toward the ground with the shake of his head. Struggling to find better words to use, the man looks toward his daughter’s lap whilst puckering his lips, trying his best to conjure up a way of putting his thoughts into something worth presenting. “They were selfish people that were willing to do whatever they had to for something to feed their addictions. There’s nothing they would’ve stopped at” Andrew concedes, thinking poorly of the way in which he refers to them whilst convincing himself that they’re more deserving of such terms than anyone else he knows. “When you become a father, there’s supposed to be no limit to what you’d be willing to do for your children. They take your priority from the second they’re born... they’re your whole world” Andrew explains, looking his daughter in the eyes as she takes his comments to heart, reading into them for as deep as the claims are willing to go, unable to help herself from doing so, “my father’s entire world revolved around finding a way to squeeze as much money out of me as he could. The second he couldn’t do that anymore, I lost any value that I had to him.” No longer averting his eyes, Andrew looks directly into the steady gaze that his daughter presents to him, letting free a sigh that releases enough tension for his shoulders to drop with great ease. Pulling her lips apart as she continues to stare forward, Liv pauses as she thinks quietly to herself, reformatting her inquiry before allowing it to leave her mouth, falling from the tip of her tongue like a body dropping itself from the ledge of a seaside cliff. “How did they die?” she settles, keeping the question simple and brief as her father’s visage remains unchanged, his eyes holding steadily upon her own as the warmth that he musters the courage to continue presenting remains intact. Letting them fall, Andrew’s eyes take toward the young woman’s lap as the question is allowed to fester, his chin bobbing toward the notebook as the sceptical shield within his mind does the job it was meant to do. “This is for class, right?” he wonders aloud, watching the young woman nod in agreement as his tongue presses against the inside of his bottom lip, grazing the top of his bottom set of teeth, “you seem to be very good at taking... notes.” Looking back toward the page she’d accidentally left for anyone nearby to see out of grand intrigue, Liv realises that she’d slipped up in time to pull the notebook up once more, watching as her father leaves the bed and pats her on the shoulder. “Honey, Liv says she can handle a few pieces of pizza!” Andrew proclaims, essentially forcing his oldest daughter’s hand as he makes for the bedroom door, leaving the question unanswered as he exits without resistance, allowed to do so by the young woman that remains in her seat. Without uttering a word, the man closes the room’s entrance and continues onward, returning to the rest of his family one level below whilst his daughter quietly sighs to herself, having gone without the opportunity to receive closure. Disappointedly discarding the notebook on the desk, Liv presses her back into the restraint of her chair and stares at the ceiling, disheartened at her failure and unsure of what to make of the doubts supplanted into her head, wanting to drown them out whilst also battling with the part that wants assurance of no wrongdoing. == Generation Alpha == > Saturday, 3rd September 2039 <
“Where are you going?” Andrew wonders aloud, looking toward his daughter as she descends the staircase toward the front door, his arm wrapped around the back of his wife whilst he sinks into the chesterfield, her head resting against his shoulder. “I’m just going out with Derby. She got tickets to a movie” Liv responds, wearing an emerald green dress and a pair of heels whose fastens wrap around the bottom of her ankles, “we probably won’t be back until late.” “Alright, just get home in one piece” Andrew responds, looking back toward the flat screen across the room whilst his wife wears a wide grin, eyebrows lifting in amusement as she turns her face toward her adoptive daughter. “Young lady?” Elaine calls out, re-earning the girl’s focus as her sights had set upon the front door, head rounding the corner and back toward the living room, “I want that skirt pulled down a few more inches before you leave this house.” Looking toward the base of her dress resting just beneath the halfway mark of her thigh, Liv does as instructed as best as the wardrobe will allow her, tugging on it with as much strength as she can muster. “That’s good enough. Have a good time” Elaine remarks, settling back into the comfort of her husband’s side as the young woman steps through the front door, having brought the dress down as far as it’ll allow her to. “I thought being the overbearing parent was supposed to be my job” Andrew jokes, hearing a humoured chuckle take shape from his wife as she nestles into him. “It would be if you could tell your ass from your elbow” Elaine quips back, catching the man by surprise enough to prevent him from responding at first, his expression taking on a look of confusion as the distant sound of a car veering off for greater pastures sounds off from just in front of the home. “Do you really think she’s going to see a movie with Derby dressed like that?” Elaine inquires, pulling her head back to look her husband in the eyes, continuing to see the loss in the man’s eyes. “When you go out to see a movie with your friends, you wear jeans, a t-shirt and maybe a jacket around this time of the year” the woman doubles down, trying to break it down in Layman’s terms, “the only time you dress like that is when you’re going out to see a boy.” Finally coming along to the same line of thought as his wife, Andrew’s eyes widen slightly as he looks toward the door, his pupils darting toward the window that overlooks their front yard before again heading back to the home’s entrance. “Why would she lie about going to the movies then?” the man questions aloud, already coming to the conclusion that it’s too late to address his daughter now that she’s gone off, only for his nerves to be settled by the sound of his wife’s chuckling. “For the same reason that I would’ve when I was younger. I was a teenager... they like their privacy” Elaine jokes, sitting upright and inching closer toward her husband, both hands laying atop his shoulder. “But still, I’m her father! She’s never gone out with-” Andrew responds, trying to explain the situation in his head before being talked down from the disappointed ledge. “Don’t take it personally, honey. She just wants to have something that she can keep for herself and I understand that. It’s just what teenagers do” Elaine calmly reassures, watching her lover’s eyes take toward her face with a disheartened glare, “when there’s something worth telling us, she’ll say something. Until then, just let her live her life. If we’re going to sell this place and move elsewhere, we won’t have any other choice. She’ll be a whole state over anyway.” Trying to lull himself just as his wife’s promising comments make an attempt at doing, Andrew settles back into his seat whilst the show carries on, coming away from the advertising break whilst Elaine presses further into his side, re-earning his embrace as they set their attention fully upon the resuming episode. = 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 = > Monday, 5th September 2039 < “Did you have a good time?” Derby inquires, having inched her desk in the back of the room closer toward her smiling friend, attempting to keep their conversation away from the ears of the teacher- whose attention is spent scrawling markings across the newly-installed whiteboard at the front of the room. “He was very sweet and reassuring” Liv responds, keeping her face held toward the desk’s surface whilst leaning her chin toward the side, addressing her pal’s comment with a soft voice. “You say that like the two of you went steady. Speak like a normal person, please” Derby jokes, sharing a hiss-like chuckle as the teacher carries on, paying the conversation no mind in favour of breaking down the lesson they’re meant to be in the middle of. “He was polite, he pulled out my chair, we talked for a bit, ate dinner and then he drove me home” Liv responds, letting the fabrics of her sweater graze the oddly-cold seat she’s meant to suffer the next twenty minutes of class through. “He’s funny, he seems to be pretty smart, and he’s a lot more charming than I gave him credit for” the young woman carries on, pausing as the teacher steps away from the board out of fear of being caught. “Does anyone want to give me an example of when it is not to be used?” Mrs. Danielson questions aloud, staring into the display at the back of the room for a lifted hand that fails to present itself within her physical class. Continuing to wait, the woman watches as a limb extends from near the rear wall, calling for her attention and surrendering her from the agonising wait of volunteer work. “Go ahead, Olivia” Mrs. Danielson replies, watching Derby lean closer toward the woman’s side at the call of her name, pretending to be interested in the answer that her friend provides. “You wouldn’t use the semicolon when your first sentence isn’t a complete one” Liv responds, watching the teacher proudly point toward her with a wide smile. “Correct! And why not?” Mrs. Danielson inquires, doubling down on the student’s offer to embark upon a back and forth with a reciprocating audience. “Because it’s a replacement for alternative punctuation when presented with two complete sentences; you don’t have to insert a period or a colon when both sentences have a definitive start and conclusion of their own.” “Well done” Mrs. Danielson proclaims, throwing her pointer in the woman’s direction once more before spinning toward the board, continuing to scrawl upon it and unknowingly afford her students further time to converse with each other. “After we kept talking for about twenty minutes, he started coming out of the anxious shell you were talking about” Liv doubles down, leaning closer toward her friend and returning her voice to its prior whisper, “he started to melt into a more confident person.” “He sounds like he’s just your type” Derby replies with a smile, watching her friend pull back to sit upright in her chair with a grin, not caring to respond to the comment, but showing her humour in it. For the final stretch of class, the girls await the bell that lets them spill into the hallway, taking their first opportunities to do so before the conversation resumes in the place that it had left off, the trail that separates them from their lockers not being spent in silence. “What was it like?” Derby questions aloud, trailing a lone step behind Liv as their march carries them onward toward the lockers, a shake in the older woman’s head carried back. “If you wanted to know, you should’ve been the one to date him” the leading young lady responds, prompting her now slightly-shorter acquaintance to roll her eyes. “That’s not how this is supposed to go” Derby responds, further amusing the young woman ahead of her, each step tapping against the ground with a faint and barely-noticeable thud. “From what I see in the movies, friends are supposed to tell them every intricate detail down to scent of cologne they were wearing” the alternative student comments, rounding the corner as they finally arrive at Liv’s destination, “then, we romanticise all the little things they do and start going over how to combine your names together.” “I think you’ve been watching the wrong movies” the subject of interest replies, exchanging one set of textbooks in favour of another before closing it shut, running through the process like a professional. “That was the first date you’ve ever gone on and it was with a guy that seems decent enough to be worth holding out a shred of hope for” Derby concludes, watching her friend begin backward stepping toward her next class, “at least give me something to latch onto.” “He was a gentleman and that’s all you need to know” Liv replies with a wink and smile, turning away with her friend mostly left in the dark, unsure of what to make from the faintest information that she’s been offered. Rolling her eyes with a playful dissatisfaction, Derby shakes her head in disapproval as her friend walks off, forcing her to prepare for the next class period without a metaphorical bone to chew on. | > Wednesday, 14th September 2039 < Laying upon her thin mattress with both hands resting atop her stomach, Sophie stares at the ceiling to her cell whilst a set of footsteps draw closer, their loud, thudding steps sounding as if they’re meant to be approaching until they suddenly stop. “Ms. Amari...” a guard proclaims, earning the woman’s attention as the girl sits upright on the top bunk of her bed, elbows pressing into the thin support to present her with the sight of the uniformed gentleman, “...you have a visitor.” Aggressive and deafening, the tone of a buzzer fires through the narrow corridor separating the prison’s inner workings from the communal area where a woman resides, looking toward the guard as Sophie steps around him. “You hadn’t called in a while. I was beginning to grow worried” Elaine comments, seated at a table in the centre of an empty room, both hands lying flat upon the platform’s surface. “I try to keep my head low. I don’t really want to ask for phone time more often than I should” Sophie responds, confidently approaching the table as the guard who’d escorted her stands by, watching from the side of the room with his hands coupled at his waist. “I understand. It doesn’t make me any less worried about you” Elaine replies, clearly wearing relief in her face at the sight of her husband’s oldest daughter, her good health bringing comfort to her nerves. “Why be worried?” Sophie inquires, lowering herself into the seat opposite her father’s wife with lowered eyes, “my health doesn’t matter to you.” Tilting her head to the side with a sorrowful look in her eyes, Elaine shakes her head in refusal as she takes on a more polite and reserved tone of voice. “Don’t talk like that. You know that I care about you” the visitor assures, doing little to change the hesitant expression carried over the inmate’s face. “Me dying in here would benefit you more than anything else. Don’t sit here like nothing's changed about our visits” Sophie rebuttals, finding a method of challenging the claim that her would-be adoptive mother makes. “I’m sure you still haven’t told dad that you’re in contact with me. These drop-ins are just as secretive as they’ve always been” the inmate continues on, not offering a lie in her comments, “you wouldn’t have to hide any of this if I wasn’t here to be a burden on you.” “You are not a burden on me, Sophie” Elaine reassures, watching the woman’s unchanged demeanour carry her expression forward, a look of defeat and slight despair held within the inmate’s visage. “One day, I’ll get Andrew to see sense in all of this. I’m not sure when, but I’ll find a way” the visiting mother doubles down, watching her husband’s oldest daughter lower her eyes dishearteningly. Her hairs having turned back to their natural brown colour, Sophie stares at the table’s platform with the palms of her hands facing each other, the tips of her fingers gently pressing against those opposite them before a pair of warm hands rest atop them. “I don’t care what he thinks about you. I don’t like what you did to get in here, but I still love you like a daughter” Elaine promises, watching the depressed inmate’s eyes lift toward those of her own. Beginning to well with tears, Sophie’s eyes look down once more before her head shakes, the gentle pull of her coupled hands taking them away from her father’s wife as they lift to wipe the waterworks away. “As much as I regret everything that I did, that’s not going to change the fact that I’m always going to be viewed as a danger to society” the inmate confesses, shaking her head the shrug of her shoulders, making peace with what she’s had many years to accept, “they’re not going to let me out until they can’t keep me in.” “The guards say that you’ve been a model prisoner here, dear. Don’t count your eggs assuming they’re not going to hatch” Elaine assures, only to hear the inmate begin to chuckle, the brief amusement prompting the stationed guard to pay more attention to the interaction. “I don’t even think I would want them to let me out at this rate, Elaine” Sophie confesses, the slump in her shoulders making it clear that spirits are the furthest thing from being high. “I’d have nowhere to go. I’d be chucked out onto the street with a pair of clothes that I might not even fit into anymore” she continues, painting a picture that becomes harder to refuse the more detailed that it becomes. “My sentence comes up in the winter time. I’d walk an ice-covered road without a jacket. The sky would be dark, it’d be late in the day, and I’d have nothing” the young woman continues on, “the wind would chap my lips and the frost would make my knees shiver.” “You’re not going to be on your own, Sophie” Elaine retorts, only to find the calm argument of the woman opposite her to prevent any true light-heartedness from coming over the conversation. “I didn’t even finish high school, Elaine. I’d be out there on my own struggling to even get hired to serve coffee. You and dad would probably be in a retirement home on the verge of death while Liv works as a nurse somewhere” Sophie proceeds, “all that matters is that I wouldn’t even know how to start over.” “That’s not how this works, kid” the large-framed security guard comments from afar, only to watch the young woman’s face turn around toward him, taking his interjection as an invitation for further retort. “By the time that I’d get released, I’ll have already spent two-thirds of my life behind these walls” Sophie quips back, her pessimism presenting itself in full, “the world I’d be going back into may not remember me at first, but I won’t be able to introduce myself to anyone without becoming the target of attention.” “Look, you got in here when you were young. I don’t blame you for feeling like all of this is helpless” the guard explains, more open to interacting with the inmate on account of her decent behaviour, “they’d enrol you in some programs and help you get back on your feet.” “The programs aren’t enough” Sophie replies, turning back toward her mother figure with a defeated sigh, eyes pressing shut and hand rubbing against the top of her forehead. “The programs are never enough, but they are a start” the man concedes, accepting the young woman’s point of view before shrugging, “the point is that- when you get out of this place- where you go will be up for you to decide.” “Sophie, there’s no reason to lose hope even if you think there is” Elaine reassures, taking the young woman’s hands back into the soft grasp of her own, providing words of consolation that act like a fishing line her husband’s daughter can’t find the energy to bite at. Losing herself into thought instead, Sophie stares at the centre of the table and lets her dark locks fall in front of her face, shielding the distraught visage that takes shape upon it. Pressing its wet tip against her bottom lip, Sophie’s tongue dives further into the soft flesh just above her head as it begins to shake, refusing to buy into the hopeful comments uttered. “There’s no point” she sighs in a near-whisper, inevitably lifting her eyes through the strands that fall in front of them to find her father’s wife looking toward her with as much of a pleasant grin as she can present, “you can’t start over in this life... You just move onto what comes next.” | > Thursday, 15th September 2039 < “Welcome to the Home Jungle off the Rolling Hills, feel free to...” Andrew greets, rounding the corner to approach the front counter, taking notice of the figure that looks around quickly at first, caught by surprise at how soon the greeting came after the ringing of the bell just overhead. “Oh, sir... We don’t let dogs inside” the store-owner remarks, taking immediate notice of the leash that the patron holds, keeping the well-mannered German Shepherd at bay. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude...” the polite stranger remarks, extending his hand toward the friendly-appearing canine standing beside himself, “some guy tried to steal him a few months ago. I haven’t liked leaving him behind ever since.” Wiping his dirty hands with a rag that he soon lowers to the countertop, Andrew looks to the customer before passing a glance toward the animal, a reluctant and strong expression carried in his hesitant face. “Alright, as long as he doesn’t eat any of the plants or take a shit in the middle of my store... I’ll make this one exception” Andrew responds, rounding the corner to attend to the needs of his patron, who politely remains standing by just as his canine friend does, “what can I do you for?” Relieved and with a grin, the pale-skinned gentleman with narrow glasses and a short, dirty blonde haircut steps forward, his furry friend matching each step with one of his own. “I was hoping to get my wife a colourful set of flowers. Something that’s both lively, but also looks pretty solid- if that makes any sense?” the man remarks, unable to receive his answer before extending his hand and introducing himself, “I’m Cliff, by the way.” “Andrew. Is there anything more specific that you’re looking for?” the shop owner replies, reciprocating the gesture before planting both hands onto his hips, “an assortment spilling over the edges of the pot? One that’s more tidy and stuffed together? One with bright colours? Solid colours? A mixture of both?” “Gee, I’m not really sure. I think I can picture it if I saw it, but I’m not really good with these things” Cliff responds, gritting his teeth together as his eyes wander off to the side, “our daughter got in trouble at school for advice that I gave her and I’d like something to prevent the missus from going too hard on me when I tell her.” “Well, if I know anything about being married... The second that I show up with flowers for no reason, they automatically assume that something’s wrong” Andrew remarks, sharing a laugh with the patron, who grimaces at the future he knows that he’s in store for. “She was going through a rough time with this other girl in her class and didn’t like the advice that mom gave her” Cliff confesses, removing his glasses to wipe at his exhausted eyes, “so dad told her to get the girl to leave her alone by whatever means necessary.” “Should I bother asking what the result was or would it be better if you could get your lawyers to bring me in for jury duty when you’re called into court?” the store owner jokes, again sharing a laugh with the patron. “She took a book and threw it at the girl’s head. Dad’s advice led to a bloody nose for the bully and a two-week suspension” Cliff assures, hearing the amused inhale that comes from the shop operator as the man’s arms cross. “Yeah, I’m not going to fall into the trap of defending something that... Well, can’t be defended” Cliff explains, conceding defeat and looking for any defence he can muster to find, “but I wouldn’t take it back even if I could. I’m a dad... We do whatever we have to for our children.” Nodding to himself before lifting his chin, Andrew finds a very respectable line to follow with his customer, unable to say anything better himself. “Yes we do” the businessman replies, pulling one hand away to playfully swat the patron’s chest, deciding to present his very best to the man opposite him in lieu of the respectable conclusion, “I think I have just the thing to help a fellow father keep from having to sleep on the couch tonight.” “God, point me in the direction!” Cliff proclaims with a smile, appreciating the hospitality of the store’s owner as he follows him toward the side of the shop, embracing the light as he steps free from the building’s shadows and enters the adjacent terrace. “It’s got all of the solid, cold colours that you’re looking for against the backdrop of pinks, yellows, and baby blues” Andrew comments, leading the man toward the very end of the building’s extension with a smile on his face, “it’s perfectly manicured and an easy assortment to look after for however long it lives.” “My god, she’d love it!” Cliff proclaims, calmly snapping his fingers toward the dog at his side as he gently lets go of the leash, allowing the animal to wander slowly and of its own volition, smelling the ground and the flora that surrounds it. “Normally, it’d cost fifty dollars. But- seeing as you’re in need- I’ll give it to you for ten” Andrew explains, surprising the appreciative visitor, “it’ll be effective, but the next time you need to surprise her to dull down some bad news... You should get into the rhythm of buying her smaller house plants.” “Are you serious?” Cliff questions aloud, graciously taking the custom bush into his possession with a look of awe, “is this a promotional tactic that I’m not aware of but in great luck to receive?” Chuckling as his hands press against either side, Andrew shakes his head whilst looking toward the ground, eventually lifting his sights toward the man opposite himself. “I just have a great appreciation for fathers willing to go the extra mile for their kids” the store owner confesses, “it’s something that I-” *RUFF, RUFF, RUFF!* Interrupting the conversation, the man’s furry companion bounces his bark from one side of the terrace to the other, laying down at the direct centre of it and staring toward his owner. “Calm down, Brutus! I know, there are a lot of plants around here, but chill out!” Cliff proclaims, retreating to the leash of his animal as it lays on the ground, his back turned to the store owner, who stares at the animal with wide eyes, aware of what it’s getting at. “I’m so sorry, I think he’s just overwhelmed by all the colour!” Cliff apologises, quickly retrieving the leash from the ground as the man behind him tries to gather his bearings, disregarding the animal’s outburst as the patron turns back toward him. “They say dogs can only see a few colours, so I imagine that all of this is just a bit much for him” the embarrassed customer pleads, prompting his companion to stand off the floor whilst watching the dismissive sways of the owner’s hand assure him of good will. “He’s not eating the plants or defecating on the ground. He can bark all he pleases so long as my store stays clean and healthy” Andrew promises, patting his patron on the shoulder as they retreat from the terrace, returning to the inside of the storefront, “let’s get you checked out and on your way so the wife isn’t kept waiting.” Stepping through the side entrance once more, Andrew holds the door open for his customer and furry friend whilst staring at the ground, reservations held in the direction of the animal’s outburst, wanting to keep from acting out of the ordinary at an event easily able to be passed off as nothing extraordinary. | > Friday, 16th September 2039 < Alone in her cell with the door open, Sophie stares at the ceiling whilst pressing both hands against her chest, her teary eyes red and face flushed. Disregarding the set of boots that pass her by just beyond the doorway, the inmate watches her room continue to darken with the lessening daylight beyond the bulletproof window just below the ceiling. Calming her breaths, the woman wraps her dominant hand around the base of the thin object laying atop herself before suddenly replacing her sadness with surprise. “Ms. Amari...” the familiar-sounding guard remarks, standing in the doorway whilst looking into the wider prison, unable to see the flustered visage that the inmate wears. “I don’t normally speak to the inmates and it’s better if I don’t, but I want to reiterate what I said a few days ago when your mom came to visit” the security carries on, directing his words toward the mostly-empty cell whilst his eyes favour the commons area. “It may be difficult to become such a person of interest when you get out of here, but it’s not impossible to actually become someone of value after you’re out of here” the man continues, allowed to speak without interruption. “We had an inmate a few years ago get released on good credit time, and he went on to do a few podcasts. Killed a girl in a drunk driving accident and explained his side” the guard carries onward, “he killed himself last year, but he made peace and apologised to the victim’s family. He got closure and gave it back when he could. There’s no reason for lost hope.” With a runny nose and damp eyelids, Sophie stares at the man’s outline in the doorway, unable to make out features beyond the shape of his silhouette. “It’s not what you may have hoped for growing up, but you will be able to make a life for yourself when you get out of here” the guard concludes, turning his head to look into the cell, unable to see the face that stares at his own, “I just wanted to come by and tell you that. I don’t want to let one of the few non-troublemakers in this prison lose hope that other, less-deserving inmates have too much of.” Trying her best not to breathe through her nose, Sophie eventually breaks the effort and pulls whatever breath she can in through the obstruction, trying to regain her composure as she sits further up. Hearing the emotional inmate struggle to gather herself, the guard returns his sight toward the communal grouping a few yards ahead, awaiting the reply he knows is being conjured up within the dark confines. Cooling herself off, Sophie lets a long exhale leave her lungs as she stares forward, her bottom lip quivering until she forces it to stop. “Can I ask what your name is?” she wonders aloud, watching the man’s face remain carrying itself forward, his skin as dark as the lack of light that surrounds her quarters, his posture going unchanged as his silence is interrupted with two syllables. “Darnell” the guard replies, pushing his back away from the door’s frame before beginning to step forward, his deep voice calming the woman stationed within, “goodnight, Ms. Amari.” Without a further utterance, the man wanders off and leaves the inmate to her own devices, the girl’s stuffy frame proceeding to lower itself back upon the paper-thin mattress as her head sinks into the raggedy, uncomfortable pillow. For a few seconds, she collects herself before glancing toward her chest, feeling the edges of the device her dominant hand had wrapped itself around, the loose second palm pulling itself away from it as she rolls onto her side, facing the concrete wall. Pulling a white brick away from its slot in the room’s side, Sophie returns the sharpened piece of metal to her hideaway hole and returns the stone to its original place, dissuaded from her need for it as she turns onto her back once more. Sliding down the sides of her eyelids, Sophie’s tears continue to run down her face as she places each hand across her stomach, eyes staring toward the ceiling once more. Slightly reassured, the inmate wears a hopeful smile and lets out a deep breath, closing her lids and letting the tension in her face fall away, melting like snow beneath a summer’s heatwave as she sentences herself to an early night, bidding the day adieu in favour of waking early to start the following one. == Generation Alpha == > Monday, 22nd August 2039 <
“We know that the last year has been really difficult for most of you, but we’d like to do what we can to make this year a fulfilling one worth remembering for the positive reasons” Mr. Calhoun remarks, standing at the foot of the stage to a crowd of students, all who gather together with little interest in what’s being presented. “I still think that you should call him” Derby remarks, seated near the end of a cafeteria table across the entire length of the room from the faculty-filled stage, her voice kept low enough to hide from the ears of her school’s teaching staff. “I’m glad you’ve brought that up for the third time today” Liv replies, passing a sideways scowl toward her friend with a sarcastic glint in her eye, “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t meet yesterday’s record of twenty-six.” “You’re wasting your time by not calling him. He’ll probably start thinking that neither of us are interested if you wait any longer” Derby comments, her arms crossed atop the long tabletop as her subdued conversation continues. “That’s because neither of us are” Liv responds, gliding her chin toward her acquaintance with the faintest sway, eyes remaining glued upon the stage just to appear like she’s a supportive student, the words that leave their lips bouncing off her ears without any chance of breaking through. “Do you really want to be the girl that goes into college never having been in a relationship before?” Derby queries, putting the ball in her friend’s court to take action with. “Even if you don’t like the guy, it’d be worth going on a date with him just to find out” she continues, unwilling to just stand back and allow the opportunity to pass one of her only friends by, “that’s how dating is supposed to work. You need to learn how to do it before you can do it well.” “Why don’t you go out with him then? You seem more interested in him than I am” Liv questions back, passing her glance back toward the young woman beside her. “Because I’ve already gone on dates with the Dylan’s of the world and they’re not my type” Derby responds, leaning back in her seat to hide her face from the faculty across the cafeteria’s way, “they’re friendly and kind of geeky. Not what I look for in a boyfriend, but not bad qualities to have in a friend.” Shaking her head with a grin, Liv attempts to return her sights to the figures upon the stage, wanting to pass this conversation by just as she had in the days since it first started, only to be refused the chance by her friend’s persistence. “Just go on one date with him. Think of it as practise for when you want to get into an actual relationship” Derby doubles down, trying her best to convince the college-bound young woman to take the leap of faith, “there’s no better practise than a timid, charming nerd.” “Can we get back to this lecture? I don’t want to get yelled at” Liv questions back, prompting her friend to roll her eyes and shake her head dismissively, disappointed in the conversation’s result before reaching into her bag and freeing herself a piece of gum. “I won’t pressure you any more about it as long as you put this in your pocket and think about it” Derby proposes, pulling out a pen and writing a phone number down upon the wrapper, handing it over to the lady sitting beside her. “You’ve got nothing to lose. Just entertain me at the least” she furthers, holding out the wrapper to her older classmate, the pause in Liv’s demeanour making it clear that the proposal is at least being considered. “Take it, slip it into your pocket, and give it some thought when you get home tonight” Derby proceeds, finding a lack of patience too great to prevent her from opening her friend’s palm and tucking the wrapper into it, satisfying herself enough to return sights to the snail’s pace lecture. Doing the same as she begrudgingly places the thin, tinfoil-covered wrapper into her pocket, Liv shakes her head and sets it into the direction of the ongoing lecture, trying to hide an appreciative smile that she doesn’t want Derby to see, feeling grateful to at least have a friend willing to push her into promising avenues. = 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 = > Wednesday, 24th August 2039 < “Home Jungle off the Rolling Hills, this is Andrew” the man greets, lifting his wrist toward his face with a slight grin, answering the call before hearing a breathy laugh from the other end of the line. “Really, we’re going to play that game?” Elaine asks back with a lift in her eyebrows as she pulls off the cover from a plastic patio chair and takes a seat upon it, falling beneath the glow of the dying, summer sun. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what you’re asking me about” Andrew responds, rounding the shop’s front counter before approaching the Tree of Life, its leaves coloured a lively green and vines stretching from the ground to the ceiling, “we here at the Home Jungle off the Rolling Hills have a wide variety of...” “What is this that I’m hearing about Liv’s school closing down, dear?” Elaine questions aloud, appreciating the witty back and forth they embark upon, though her mind rests on more pressing matters. “What do you mean?” Andrew replies, carrying a squint as he steps away from the building’s central column, confused as he retreats for the newly-built greenhouse extension to the property currently unoccupied, “where did you hear this?” “Brenda- Braden’s mom- told me about it when I was dropping Galen off” Elaine replies, crossing one leg over the other as she stares into the treeline at the end of their property, “she said some of the moms with kids in the school were hearing that they were going to shut down at the end of the school year.” Closing the door to what had once been the patio, Andrew keeps his voice low and unassuming as he ventures toward the corner of the area closest to the corner of the mainroad. “I haven’t heard anything about that” the man responds, as lost for information as his wife appears to be, “I know they’ve been having issues with getting people to come in, but they’re still only the fourth least-attended school in town.” “Sure, but dear... let’s not pretend like they’ve got a wonderful history, either” Elaine replies, unable to see the displeased shrug of acceptance come over her husband’s body. “Aside from everything about Sophie, they just had everything that happened with that family last year” she carries onward, looking into the backyard of the home just off to her right to find a child playing in the backyard with his father, rolling around the grass and chasing after a ball. “They’re still a publicly-funded school. I don’t see how they could just choose to shut down” Andrew responds, shaking his head at a loss for understanding, feeling like he’s speaking a different language than the one that he’s always known with the distance in his translation. “Because their enrollment dropped by twenty three percent between last year and this year” Elaine responds, not finding much trouble in seeing the cause, “no one wants to go to that school with its baggage.” Leaning against the transparent casing protecting his property’s lot from the elements of the outside world, Andrew sits with his thoughts for a moment as he stares past the assortment of potted plants and into the larger shop. Wandering along the premises with admiration for the beautiful arrangements, the shop goers find themselves oblivious to the watchful eye keeping them within view, their presence acting more like a way in which the man can clear his head than anything else. “So we’d need to find a new school for Galen to start kindergarten in. That’s not much of a big deal” Andrew concedes, seemingly coming to an acceptance of the situation at hand before falling into a deeper consideration. “Liv already seems intent on going to Chicago for school, so I guess we’re lucky she’s at the grade level that she’s at” Elaine follows up, speaking in lieu of her husband’s voice, “I hear the school about half a mile away from us has a pretty decent ‘K-through-five’ program.” Squinting as he looks at the nature contained within his storefront, Andrew inspects the various shelvings and signage, ridding his mind of considerations to the sort in favour of thoughts that bring a smile upon his face. “With Liv flying the coop, this might be the perfect opportunity for us to put everything behind ourselves” he comments, catching his wife by surprise as she looks at the device on her wrist with furrowed eyebrows. “What do you mean by that?” Elaine wonders aloud, leaning closer to the side with the watch on as she stares into the screen, only able to see her husband’s name and the upward-ticking clock on how long their conversation has endured thus far. “Well, Galen’s at the age where we can relocate and it wouldn’t affect him that much. He’s still young and hasn’t made actual friends. Moving wouldn’t be cruel to him” Andrew proceeds, laying out tracks for his wife to follow mentally. “You want to move away?” Elaine inquires, leaning further forward in her seat now as she ponders the proposal offered from the man on the other end of the line, hearing his footsteps carry themselves back the way that they’d entered. “I can close down the shop and we can sell the home. We’ll take our things and move south” Andrew carries on, stepping through the terrace extension’s entrance in order to make it back to the front counter, venturing beyond that in favour of the business’ rear. “We’ll go somewhere warm, set Galen up in a kindergarten wherever we end up and have Liv fly out for the holidays” he continues, convincing his wife that he’s serious with each continued line of speech, “she’ll be studying in Chicago of all places, so she’ll probably appreciate having somewhere warmer to go when the cold months take shape.” “You’re serious about this?” Elaine inquires, wearing a semi-smile at the exciting thought proposed, loving the home in which she resides within now, but the idea of travelling presents her with an exhilarating opportunity that she’d never taken into thought before. “Yeah. People go off and retire to Florida or Georgia or somewhere like that all the time. Why can’t we?” Andrew questions back, still trying to keep his comments away from the ears of patrons, “we’ve got the money, the time, and it wouldn’t be uprooting the kid’s lives for our own benefit.” Lifting herself off the chair, Elaine wanders beyond the patio and descends the steps into the larger backyard, feeling the recently-cut grass slide between her toes as her feet press down upon the manicured lawn, carrying her into the shaded half of the rear field. “I’ve wanted to move away and just start somewhere fresh for a long time now” Andrew confesses, pressing his back to the wall of the breakroom as he wears his grin, “I haven’t needed to live here for so long. We have the financial liberty to do whatever we want. Now is the perfect time to take advantage of it.” Fixing the hairs that flutter in the swaying breeze of the wind, Elaine smiles as she stares at the ground, the red and black flannel shirt that she wears over her tank top being pushed away from the calm rushes of air. “Alright, then... I, uh...” she stutters as she frees a laugh, too pleased with this eventful proposition to not take immediate intrigue within it, “...I’ll talk to you about it more when you get home.” “Sounds like a plan” Andrew replies, wearing his own pleased expression as pushes himself off the wall, preparing to return to his daily duties as he bids the woman adieu, “love you, dear.” “I love you too” Elaine replies with a giggle, shaking her wrist through the air to end the call as she finds herself at the backyard’s centre, staring into the treeline before catching the glimpse of a yellow and blue ball floating over the fence and into her yard from off to the side. “Sorry!” the apologetic father proclaims, lifting the palm of his hand high enough to reach over the fence, looking through the modest slots in its wooden composition to find his neighbour standing in the middle of the yard. “I have too big of an arm for my own good sometimes. I utterly-” the man attempts to plead, only to stop at the swiping of the woman’s hand through the air, her gesture insinuating that such an explanation is not warranted. “It’s all good. No big deal” Elaine assures, making a quick jog over to the ball before tossing it over the divide between their yards. “Thank you, Mrs. Carrion” the gentleman responds, hearing the chipper cheer of his son catch his ear as the young lad reclaims the ball that rolls to a stop near the centre of their yard. Wearing a smile, Elaine watches the father retreat from the fence as the sound of the childish joy comes over the air, its replacement of laughter from the son as his father lifts him through the air with a playful growl only deepening the pleasure she takes from the sight. Crossing her arms over her chest to prevent the flaps of her unbuttoned shirt from continuing to flap aimlessly in the breeze, Elaine turns back the way she’d come with eyes reclaiming her view of the patio. Briefly and without intending to, the woman’s eyes carry toward the opposite end of the yard from the one that she’d come from, seeing the difference in activity between one neighbouring home and the other. On the backyard shared with the relatively young family, the Carrion household’s fence is a newer-appearing, hardwood-finished structure stained properly for the elements of their harsh summers and cruel winters. On the opposite end, an old fence finished off with a muddy brown shade of paint separates her backyard from the elderly couple who’d purchased the nearby property a few years prior. Instead of a young father playing with his child in the backyard to the sound of childish laughter, an old couple spend their times on particularly sunny days surrounded by plants and bird baths attended to by people paid for such a purpose, the sound of nature in all directions affording the currently-unoccupied rear field an elderly patience. Calm and unimposing, the older fence takes Elaine’s intrigue and prompts her feet to begin moving in its direction, her mind wrapping around its presence and the yard that sits opposite the one she ventures from. Letting her arms fall to either side, the mother traipses across the lawn and peers through the slits in between each wooden post, looking into a lovely and well-groomed backyard to find peace and tranquillity, nothing youthful of note to be found aside from the relatively young plants that sit within loose, fresh soil. Not meaning to intrude upon the privacy of the neighbouring couple, Elaine pulls away from the divider of the two lawns and stares out toward the treeline, which simply remains as it always had been when the property was bought- stretching a few dozen yards to the next set of residential homes on the opposite side. Finding a calmness coming over her, the woman presses the corner of her mouth into the side of her face whilst letting her eyes follow whatever they wish to. Finding very little worth writing home about, the woman’s eyes wander the length of the old, rickety fence before finding an oddly light stretch of carvings near the very end of it, the border with the woods having proven to be an easy passage worth crossing. Intrigued by this surprising opening in the divider between their homes, Elaine approaches the treeline and continues wandering through it for about ten yards, eying the light tone of scrapings near its end. Stepping over a few branches and walking around massive tree trunks ripping through the air like a plane defying what our beliefs of gravity had evolved to, Elaine closes in on the carvings at the end of the divider, looking at them in the way that they’re presented, meant for the eyes of anyone who’d been aware that they were there. Within a circle with spikes protruding from the edges, the letters ‘S+C’ reside within a field likely carved with a typical kitchen knife, the unprofessional and amateur job appearing to come directly from the hands of a set of children. Parting her lips as she looks at the display, the mother takes on a look of dread without difficulty in deciphering what was meant within the symbolic gesture, her arms crossing again once more as her eyes take to the home the elderly couple now reside within. Her jubilation having now begun to take the form of sorrow, Elaine lets her face fall toward the ground as she stands with the depressing discovery, one that has come to age with time as poorly as milk would. | > Friday, 26th August 2039 < Licking her moist lips as she sets her water flosser down, Liv departs the bathroom and casually makes for her regular quarters, fastening the fur rope of her robe around her waist as she closes the door behind herself. Venturing over to her desk before stuffing a few textbooks into her bag, the young woman clears her workspace and takes a seat upon it, looking through the window just beside herself to the mostly-empty road outside. Aside from a car parked on the side of the road every few dozen feet, the quiet street hosts nothing more than a few lamps every now and then, brightening the roadway for safe passage that its past has- at times- not hosted regardless of intent. Leaning back in her seat, Liv takes in the sight that she doesn’t pay much mind to very often, letting it sit within her before reaching for her laptop, sliding its thin cover open to reveal a screen that brightens the second it’s beckoned for. Having taken a glass of orange juice with her along her journey to the home’s second level, Liv sips from her beverage as she opens up her school email, immediately being met with an important notice concerning its future closure in less than one year’s time. Disregarding the newsletter, the young woman pans over to the blue and pink-coloured logo near the toolbar at the base of her screen, clicking on it to reveal a wall of different information, pictures, and weather patterns. Frowning at the variety of illustrations popping up on her screen, the young woman instead lifts her cursor to the toolbar at hand, hovering her fingertips over the keyboard that she’s at first reluctant to begin typing away at. With furrowed brows, Liv thinks quietly to herself before typing in the name of her school, eventually being forced to repeat the process with her town’s name added to the end of it. “School with troubled history announces impending closure for the summer of 2040” the first headline reads, depicting an image of the building’s front entrance for the young woman to find, her cursor reaching for the bar at the side of the page to scroll further downard. “Murder Sophie Amari’s high school is expected to close in 2040” the next headline reads, going without an image that the browser presents, instead just filling the text box with the bold, black lettering. “School of horrors plans to close in 2040” the next information box reads in writings more akin to the announcement that war has broken out in a far away country, masquerading as breaking news worth the public being made aware of. Thinking twice before doing so, Liv takes the cursor to the third box and clicks on the article, waiting for the page to load before finding a pair of noteworthy faces finding her eyes through the historical pictures that accompany them. Split into two, a large box presents a pair of images that mostly draw the website looker’s eyes toward the left. Just as she’d always known it to be, the younger face of Liv’s sister appears upon a promotional poster for the documentary that was cancelled before it ever got the chance to release to the public. Plastered upon a poster board outside of a movie theatre, Sophie’s face finds itself in the hands of a theatre employee being carried away from its display near the front counter. To the right of her sister’s photograph, the childish face of Coleen- no older than ten- sits at the centre of her mother and father, who would go on to partake in a family picture that would haunt the world in hindsight more than it would spark memories of joy. “Left, the poster for Sophie Amari’s unreleased documentary is carried away following the announcement of her crimes” the article’s thumbnail reads in its description, “right, the Wolf family portrait features young daughter, Coleen, who- alongside her mother- was murdered by Tom Wolf.” Staring at the screen, Liv lets out a deep and depressing sigh whilst leaning back in her chair, tucking her hands into her pockets as she lets the unsettling image sit within her view. Unsure of how else to react, the young girl feels the knuckle of her dominant hand’s index finger graze a piece of discarded paper still in her pocket, prompting her to retrieve it in search of answers. Immediately going wide-eyed at the sight of a number scrawled down on the chewing gum wrapper, Liv shakes her head with a grin and tosses the note onto her desk, returning her sights toward the computer’s screen. Allowing the disturbing thumbnail continue to linger within the boundaries of her attention, the girl gently swipes at the trace pad and allows the chill-inducing sensation to roll down her back, finding further photographs down the length of the page. At first, Sophie’s mother appears in a box, her visage appearing in a photograph alongside friends from before she’d had her only daughter, doing little to strike a chord with the girl at her desk’s behest. Scrolling down further, Liv finds the face of a girl she’d had very few interactions with, the girl’s lonely illustration preceding another one within the company of a man much more familiar with the high school senior. “Isabelle Whitehead and Caden Nurse, pictured here, were victims of Sophie’s crimes in the aftermath of Morgan Amari’s death” the picture’s description reads, paid no mind by the website browser as she simply stares into the photograph attached to it, unable to shake the weight within her chest at the young man’s sight. Clearing her throat, Liv chooses to forgo continuing to leave herself troubled in favour of reaching for the laptop’s screen and closing it, offering it a return to the limbo it had undertaken prior to her return to the room. Leaning back in her seat, the young woman finishes off her drink before pressing the palm of her hand against her workspace and preparing to return the glass to the kitchen one story below. Instead, the tips of her fingers press upon the forgettable wrapper once more, rustling it just slightly as she climbs out of her chair, prompting the young woman to look at it once more with consideration that her friend had asked her to take. Squinting toward the number that she sees when pulling her hand back, Liv continues to hold the glass by her side before looking toward the device on her wrist with contemplation, unsure of whether or not the act is one she feels strongly over, but certain that the idea has her hooked enough to leave her within deep thought. == Generation Alpha == Season Four Premiere
> Saturday, 20th August 2039 < “I love you too, Liv” Elaine remarks, pecking her daughter on the cheek as their paths cross, the young woman venturing for the home’s front door whilst the mother of two traipses toward the kitchen. At the sound of the door slamming shut beneath the flow of air that carries it in place, Liv descends the home’s front steps in a hurry before dipping into the passenger’s seat of the vehicle that waits for her at the curb. “It’s our last weekend as free women! Let’s take advantage of it!” a chipper Derby proclaims, sitting behind the wheel with a belt fastened across her chest, fingertips pressing against the screen at the centre console. “It’s senior year, Derby... Not prison” Liv responds with a face full of humoured joy as she buckles herself in. “I’ll pretend that I didn’t just hear you suggest the two weren’t the same” Derby replies, feeling the car’s weight shift backward as it pulls away from the side of the street, ready to embark upon the journey it’s been sentenced to. From the living room window, Elaine watches the car pull away and take toward the late morning distance, a pleasant grin carried over her expression as she approaches the other side of the home, placing earbuds to either side of her head with a phone in hand. “Oh, hold on there champ... Mom’s calling” Andrew remarks, gently patting his son on the shoulder whilst reaching for his phone, looking out at the calm water of the pond they stand at the edge of. “In the half hour since you’ve called, neither of us have died” the father greets upon answering, watching his son continue to stare blankly at the bobber to his fishing pole as it sits on the water’s surface, “but we also haven’t caught any fish.” “I was just calling to let you know that I was going to start cleaning” Elaine responds, gently dropping her phone onto the kitchen’s island as she steps onto the back patio, embracing the death of summer’s final weeks and the heat that waves over from it. “Sounds good. Anything you need me to pick up on the way back?” Andrew queries, looking into the distance as he holds his hand over both eyes, shielding his face from the burning sunlight. “If we get Galen to bed on time tonight and Liv decides to stay over at Derby’s again, maybe bringing back some wine wouldn’t be the worst idea?” Elaine questions, unable to see the smile that her response brings upon her husband’s face. “I think I can carve some time out of the lacklustre fishing to bring Galen to the park in a little bit” Andrew considers, puckering his lips as he turns back toward his son, watching the young boy sway from one side to the other patiently, “that should tucker him out for bed?” “I don’t think I need to tell you how much I like that idea” Elaine replies, listening to the man’s breathy chuckle find its way to her ears as he nods. “Alright. I’ll be back home with the finest tonight and let Liv know she can stay at Derby’s if she wants... just so she can convince herself that it was her decision” Andrew responds, offering departing words as the call comes to an end, plans for the rest of the day put back into place as he approaches his youngest child. “Alright, champ... Let’s go to the park” Andrew remarks, gently reclaiming the fishing pole before winding it back, bringing the line to the shore as the boy cheers excitedly. Back at home, Elaine ends the call and looks toward her watch, replacing the sound of her husband’s voice through the earbuds with the tune of party music from the late 2000’s, springing her into action with an energy hard to come by. Buckling his son into his seat, Andrew closes the door to his sedan’s backseat and makes for the front, looking into the distance as he does with a warm expression of a smile and rested eyebrows. Pausing before entering the vehicle, the man stares down the long stretch of gravel roadway they’d taken to get to the lake and lets a slow breath free, calmed to an extent that frees his chest of any weight as he descends, reclaiming the driver’s seat and venturing onward. = 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 = “How does this look?” Liv wonders aloud, pulling a shirt free from a cubby in which it’d been stored within, holding it against her chest with an eyebrow raised, only to receive a slight scowl from her friend. “I love you, Liv... But that shirt is not your style” Derby responds, looking back to the cubbies before her and selecting one at random, preferring the charcoal grey colour of the attire that her hand had taken as it is handed off to the girl beside her, “try this on instead.” “I don’t have a style, Derby” Liv responds, gently taking the article of clothing that’s handed to her before shaking the yellow, purposefully-torn t-shirt she’d presented in the young woman’s face. “That just means you’re a clean slate. Don’t taint it by putting on this weird, ripped sponge thing” the alternative young adult remarks, earning laughter from her friend as she snatches the bright piece of clothing away, less pleasant about it than her friend had been- but equally humoured. Rolling her eyes with a grin, Liv turns toward the dressing room just off to the side before leaving her pal to her own devices once more. Left to her lonesome, Derby continues to browse the selection of graphic tops, continuing to fail at finding anything that fits her less-formal preferences whilst shoppers pass by on the aisles to either side of her section. “Excuse me?” a young man’s voice inquires, passively ignored by the young woman that continues to glance around the shelving unit that stands before her. Minding her own business, Derby continues to peruse the assortment of various designs, aware that they all have a more child-like appeal to them, but finding intrigue in the ways to which she can alter them more fittingly. “Excuse me?” the young man asks again, this time tapping the woman on the shoulder to get her attention, catching her by surprise. “Oh, do you need me to move?” Derby inquires, not having thought that she was the subject of his interest the first time around, but still unsure of the reason for why she would be taken notice of. “No, I was just...” the unfamiliar-looking man remarks, stammering over his words before nervously pointing toward the signage at the top of the compartment’s structure, “you’re in the boys t-shirt section.” Pulling her head back to follow the direction of the man’s finger, Derby looks toward the top of the unit, nodding in agreement at the conclusion that he’s wagered. “Yes, it is” she answers, looking back at the man with reassurance in the claim that he makes, “I was sort of hoping that it would be when I went looking over here.” With a brief look of surprise in the woman’s intentional browsing of the area, the young man nods along with her conclusion before becoming even more shy than he had been when approaching her. “I didn’t know that you meant to come here, I’m sorry” the young man confesses, stiffening his shoulders as his head takes a slight lean toward the ground, his posture obviously reading like someone who is uncomfortable in the conversation at hand. With a slight smile at the man’s reservation, Derby inspects his confidence-lacking demeanour for a brief moment before nodding along to her prior statement, deciding to take it easy on the young man as she throws her thumb toward the shelving. “I like to find shirts that I find at places like these and screw around with them. Scrape out the pictures printed on them, paint the parts that are coloured in with different colours... stuff like that” Derby admits, putting on a more affable tone of voice. “Sometimes I’ll wear whatever the final product is. Sometimes I’ll give them to a friend or sell them to someone who likes it enough to buy it” she continues, gradually easing the young man into being less overwhelmed, “it’s just a hobby.” “Well, it sounds like you’re really good at it” the young man responds, his compliment proving strong enough to put a smile on the woman’s face. “I’m Derby” she greets, extending her hand toward the young man that proceeds to reciprocate her gesture. “I’m Dylan” the man introduces himself, neither of the two shaking each other’s hand with much more than limp wrists, “I’d love to-” “You really thought this was more my sty-?” Liv wonders aloud, accidentally stumbling into the conversation happening away from her ears, exiting the dressing room with the dark coloured shirt on, “oh... hello.” Letting go of the woman’s hand, Dylan waves to the unexpected re-entry with a sheepish grin. “Liv, this is Dylan” Derby introduces, stepping aside so the pair can shake hands as well, Liv’s grasp on his hand out matching the young man’s own, “he seems a bit shy.” “I’m just not used to being around people all that much” Dylan confesses, laughing with his breaths as he tries his best to muster through the discourse, “I’m homeschooled. I’ll be going to an actual college next year, though. But I’m not really used to talking to people.” Amused by the man’s self-conscious demeanour, Liv smiles at him before looking toward Derby, who follows the same line of thought amidst the odd silence that comes over the three. “Let me get your number then” the more alternative of the bunch proposes, her eyes meeting those of the man they’d become newly acquainted with. Surprised at first, Dylan snaps into action with his hand reaching the screen of his watch, a few clicks sending the combination of numbers to the device on Derby’s own. “I’ll see you around, Dylan” Derby remarks, watching as the man nods whilst their paths separate, the young man’s venture to the aisle he’d actually intended to visit affording the girls a chance to speak in private. “Well he’s cute” Liv murmurs, passing a glance at his frame as it journeys away before noticing the slight grin in her friend’s expression, “you should ask him out.” “We’ll fight one battle at a time there, Liv” Derby rebuttals, passing the pointer of her finger from the top of Liv’s wardrobe to the bottom of it, “our top priority has to be getting you something that works.” | “Be careful, Galen!” Andrew proclaims, watching his son run off to begin the ascent of the play structure he eyes the pinnacle of, wanting to take a go at the slide, whose entrance sits at the very top, “I don’t want to be bringing you home to mom in a thousand pieces, okay?” Without a response, Galen’s marching orders remain already set out, his attempt at climbing the rock-like accessories already underway. Taking amusement in his son’s scurrying, Andrew shakes his head with a smile as he turns away, walking for the park’s entrance where an ice cream truck sits and waits. “How’s it going?” the man passively greets another man along the way, paying decency to the fellow parent along his journey. With hands tucked into his pockets and a pair of sunglasses wrapped around his face, the other man silently nods to the bypassing dad before returning his sights toward the play structure as countless other kids ascend. Reaching to his side, Andrew scrapes his knuckle against the rough edge of the pocket knife clipped onto his pocket, letting out a faint groan as he shakes his hand to rid of the dull pain. Going in for attempt number two, the father successfully retrieves the wad of cash from within his pocket as he approaches the window. “Just a vanilla cone, please” he requests, taking a glance toward the side of the vehicle before flipping through a few singles. Gently placing five of them atop the counter, Andrew turns his back to the server and leans his shoulder against the truck’s exterior, waiting for service as he looks back to the playground, where he watches his son climb to the very top, nearing the slide’s entrance. Remaining in place at the sight, the father’s grin begins to lower into a cold look of malice as the man he’d greeted on his way by begins slowly approaching the play set, hands no longer tucked away. “Daddy! Look at me!” Galen cheerfully exclaims from the very top, hurrying to the slide’s entrance as the stranger continues to wander forward, earning his father’s attention instead. Without the faintest sight of emotion in his face, Andrew steps away from the truck with a quicker pace than the man that casually and slowly approaches the set, eyes focused in on the gentleman as if he were less of a man and more of a target. Tearing the pocket knife off of his hip, Andrew swipes the blade out and continues to follow the unaware man, keeping it tucked close to his person as the ice cream man calls out for his return. “Sir! Your cone!” the server proclaims, watching the father continue to walk away, refusing to acknowledge the completion of his order in favour of following the park goer. “Sir!” the driver again proclaims, attempting to re-earn the ear of the man that departs his truck’s side, watching as the man continues to venture onward. Slipping into the slide’s entrance from above, Galen vanishes into the green tube and begins his great descent, prompting the man that’s unaware of who’s following him to break out into a sprint. Refusing to give a warning, Andrew breaks out into a run toward the gym just as the man ahead does, assuming the worst of intentions whilst his son continues to ride the playground set to the ground. Wielding his knife with the blade out, Galen’s father runs at the same speed as the figure he pursues, ready to bury the weapon within the stranger’s body without a moment of hesitation. Lunging toward the slide’s mouth at the very bottom, the strange man throws his arms outward as Galen continues to travel within its inner workings, prompting the man chasing him to pull his arm back and ready himself to fly forward as well. At the last second, a small child spills out from the tube and falls into the possession of the odd civilian, whose arms wrap around the boy and quickly pull him away from the slide just as Galen spills out as well. Saving the second child from being trampled into by Galen, the man who Andrew had given chase to steps off to the side, prompting the knife-wielding man to ditch his initial intent at the last second. Bracing for impact, the chaser slams into the slide’s exterior and bounces off of it, turning his back to the stranger he’d nearly impaled in order to quickly close the blade and conceal it once more- not wanting to give any illusion to what he’d set out to do. “Hey, sir!” the stranger calls out, clearly unaware of what had nearly unfolded as he catches Andrew’s attention, a finger being pointed in his direction, “you need to teach your kid to wait a second after someone else goes down the slide!” Clearly irritated, the civilian- who’d nearly become a victim- scolds the father for his son’s lack of playground etiquette, displeased with the situation that had nearly taken place. Trying his best to regain his composure, Andrew watches the disgruntled father walk off whilst his own son climbs off the slide, not bothering to respond in lieu of what the alternative could’ve been. “Come here, Galen” the man instead sighs, taking his son into his arms and retreating for the ice cream truck, holding his son close as he attempts to rid his head of thoughts akin to the worst, “that’s enough playground for one day.” | Groaning as she rips a pair of yellow, rubber gloves from covering her hands, Elaine lets them fall upon the nearby kitchen table before placing her palms to either side of her hips, surveying the room with a satisfied nod as the sound of music in her ears turns to the dial tone of a phone. Furrowing her brows just as she’d hoped to take pride in her accomplishment, the woman taps one of her earbuds twice and waits for the pleasing tone she’s used to. “Hello?” the woman greets, hearing a slight amount of shifting in the background of the phone call before a voice can offer a reply. “Hey, Elaine. It’s Sophie” the woman responds, leaning against the concrete wall whilst looking at the colourless suit she’s dressed in, her dominant hand holding the landline handset against the side of her head. “Sop... But it’s Saturday. I told you not to call on weekends” Elaine responds, caught by surprise at the young woman’s voice, having assumed that it was her husband attempting to call her. “I know, I’m sorry. I...” Sophie responds, clearly speaking through a subdued and reluctant tone of voice, concealing something within the undertones of her comments, “...I just really needed to talk to someone.” Finding the reflection in the girl’s voice to be unnerving, Elaine squints toward the distance before reaching for the nearest chair, lowering herself into the seat as she interrupts the silence brought forth by her concern. “Is everything alright?” she wonders aloud, not receiving an answer at first as the jingling of keys on the guards’ hips and the shuffling of feet along the solid ground of the structure are all that she’s given a response from. “No, there was a... uh... There was a riot yesterday” the inmate replies, wearing a scar over her right eyebrow, its either side stitched together with basic thread, “two groups had enough of each other and just started wailing with whatever they had.” Pressing her elbow against the kitchen countertop, Elaine looks toward the depths of the room and tries to process this information. “A lot of people were injured. A few people died... one of them was my cellmate” Sophie confesses, looking toward the ground with a look of despair on her face, the dread that hides beneath it adding weight to the grim thoughts that flutter through her head like hot breath against a cold window. “Sophie, dear... I’m so sorry” Elaine responds, unsure of what more that she can say in the wake of such information, feeling like nothing that she can offer would be adequate. “Thank you, but... that’s why I’m calling” Sophie replies, pressing harder against the wall as if she were trying to hide her figure, eyebrows furrowing as the conservative expression carries itself across her visage. “I don’t really like stepping on toes here, but my cellmate didn’t feel the same way” she continues to explain, keeping to herself and avoiding eye contact with anyone that passes by, “some of the people that didn’t like her dropped by a few hours ago. They told me to keep my next bunkmate in line.” “They’re blaming you for your old cellmate?” Elaine questions, not fully understanding what’s being insinuated from the opposite end of the line. “No, they’re warning me not to start trouble and keep my cellmate from being any bigger pain to them” Sophie responds, shaking her head as she sinks further into the wall, “my cellmate was here when I showed up. They want me to let the one that’ll show up next know not to step on toes.” Trying to decipher the language used, Elaine leans further into the marble finish as she stares forward, unsure of what more to say. “If my cellmate doesn’t keep her nose clean like me, that’ll make me look bad” Sophie explains, narrowing her line of sight as she stares at the corner of the room, feeling the rush of dread consume her like krill to a whale once more, “if that happens, I’m not sure I’ll be around to call you for much longer.” Stricken with an immediate grief that she hadn’t anticipated to receive, Elaine pulls back in her chair with disbelief, not having assumed that was the point of the girl’s phone call. “I just wanted to call you and let you know. I don’t think anything will happen soon, but I know that it can” Sophie explains, nodding to herself as she tucks the phone in closer to her ear, “if it does, I just wanted to let you know why I stopped calling so suddenly.” “Honey, I... I...” Elaine stammers, staring at the countertop wildly without certainty over what to say in return, only for the sound of nearing footsteps on the other end of the line to prevent her from having the chance to do so. “Phone time is up, Ms. Amari” a black woman’s voice comments from the other end of the line, putting a complete stop to the home body on the other end of the inmate’s phone call. “I’ll talk to you sometime soon hopefully. Bye” Sophie remarks, ending the conversation as abruptly as it had begun by hanging up the phone, leaving her mother in law to hear the status tone of the disconnected line through the buds in her ears. With a sour look in her eyes, Elaine gently tugs the earpieces away and looks around the room, sitting with the sickness that forms in her stomach as the discomfort of the call lingers. | “Are you going to call him?” Liv wonders aloud, following her friend through the mall’s exit and across the lot to their vehicle, receiving a light smirk from her inquiry. “I don’t know” Derby confesses, shrugging her shoulders as she continues walking onward, wearing the handles of a single paper bag over her wrist, “I don’t really think he’s my type. He seems friendly though.” “I didn’t know that you had a type” Liv rebuttals, looking toward her pal with a surprised glare in her eye, drawing a chuckle out of the alternative young woman walking beside her, the head of her artistic pal hanging toward the ground. “I don’t know that I have a type either. I just know that he’s not really it” Derby admits, looking back to her shopping partner as the car draws nearer, “he does seem like someone that you’d be into, though.” Furrowing her eyebrows, Liv looks toward the young woman with a curious and sceptical stare, keeping it held firm as they round the vehicle from separate sides, ready to climb into its front seats and venture off in favour of greener pastures. “What!? You seem like the kind of girl who’d like a guy that doesn’t know what to do with his penis” Derby doubles down, her follow-up comment drawing as much intrigue and awe as the first one had. “You watch your mouth, Deborah Cohen!” Liv retorts, only to receive a wide-eyed, finger-pointing stare fro, the designated driver. “Use my full name again and I’ll text him from your phone pretending to be you!” Derby rebuttals, receiving feigned shock from the lady sitting beside her, “besides, I’ve never heard you talk about someone you’re interested in. I don’t really know what your type would even look like. You’re a clean slate.” “That’s because the years I would’ve spent having crushes on guys were spent trying to fight a losing battle against my impulses” Liv responds, buckling herself into her seat as the driver begins typing away. “He’s cute. He seems really nice, but I don’t know if that’s enough to get me to like someone” the young woman continues to explain, running through the idea internally in a way she’d never thought to do before. “As long as you’re not going to remain a virgin until marriage like some religious nutjob, that’s all that I care about making sure of” Derby responds, leaning back in her seat as she fastens her seatbelt, letting the car pull itself out of the spot in favour of the open road. “If I based who I was going to do it with off of your input, it’d be some geek from science class more focused on pulling pigs apart than my legs...” Liv replies to a flabbergasted look, “...I’ll cover the dating part on my own, thank you very much.” | With one heavy footstep after another, Andrew makes his way to the bottom of the home’s staircase and rounds the bannister to find his wife’s eyes watching him from the kitchen nearby. “The boy is finally asleep” he remarks, watching her grin widen whilst he approaches, a glass of wine held in her hand and intended to be taken into his. “You made a fine choice in drink for this evening, Mr. Carrion” Elaine remarks, releasing the drink into her husband’s open and waiting palm. Without uttering another word, Andrew leans in and presses his lips to his wife’s own, a prideful smile taking over his face as their mouths pull apart, replaced by the clinking of their glasses coming together. With grace and passionate care, the couple take the drinks to their mouths and sip, replacing the bitter taste of red wine with the presence of a kiss once more. Directing his wife toward the kitchen as their faces remain intertwined with each other’s, Andrew gently takes the woman’s glass and places it atop the kitchen table alongside his own, too enthralled by the shared display of passion to pay any mind to their beverages. Wrapping her arms around her husband as she’s lifted from the floor, Elaine presses her face into the man’s own as they tangle together, continuing the affection without naturally advancing it. “Fuck, this isn’t working...” Andrew suddenly comments, having grasped the woman by the hips as tightly as he could without being able to get himself in the mindset such an interaction would be brought on by. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I... I just had an awful fucking day” the man confesses, feeling horrible about his reservation in a way that the woman he’d shared it with quickly tries to reassure. “Things didn’t go my way today either, Andrew... Seriously, it’s fine. I...” Elaine hurriedly explains, forcing herself to laugh at the odd end they equally wish to bring to the situation within each other’s hand, “...gosh, I’m so embarrassed.” Shaking his head in refusal of the notion, Andrew kisses his wife on the forehead and pulls her into a hug, their plans for a lovely night having fallen victim to their unpleasant days. “Hey, let’s just forget about this and enjoy the rest of our night” he proposes, earning a pleased expression through the exhausted visage of the woman that feels more relief than anything else. “We’ll watch a movie and just... enjoy the night” Elaine proclaims, lifting her chin to kiss the man once more as he gently pulls her off of the kitchen’s island. “I’ll make some popcorn. You pick out whatever you like” Andrew declares, ending the odd and curious encounter with as much dignity as he can muster. Continuing to wear his smile, the man approaches the kitchen counter as his wife rounds the corner, turning on the sink and allowing the water to get cold before dipping his hands beneath and coating his face with what remains on his fingers, trying to clear his mind of the hardship that wears upon his conscience, finding it difficult to forget the events of the day. Seeing his reflection in the backyard window just over the kitchen sink nonetheless, Andrew looks back at himself as he pulls in a heavy breath. Flipping off the overhead light to wipe his mirrored image from the line of his sight, the man is left with a simple view of his backyard and the freshly cut grass that covers it beneath the stormlight just above the patio door. Ridding himself of the torment that looks him in the face, the man carries on with his evening, trying to put it out of his mind just as he always has. == Generation Alpha == |
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