Life, I have learned, is like a chess game. The key is to be sneaky. Wait until your opponent is not looking to make your move. Act like you have no plan; pretend to be innocent. You can choose to let people take things from you, or you can take things from them. The beginning of the game is a major factor in whether you win or lose. You have to establish dominance.

That is what my mother did. I was young, so I don’t remember much, but people aren’t shy to fill me in on what I don’t remember. I was born in 2020. Democracy in the United States fell in 2028. She didn’t just bow her head and leave gracefully, no, she went out with a bang. And by with a bang I mean with over ten million American lives. Whenever we thought the end of the war was in sight, something sparked and the fire kept on raging. People tossed around the word “revolution” like it was nothing. Weapon of choice in this Second Civil War was the neuralyzer bullet, which was newly designed and barely tested. If hit by the bullet, soldiers were left brain dead. Citizens were targeted too.
The war destroyed everything except for a few cities here and there. I happen to live in one of those cities: the new capital in Seattle, Washington. Forget Washington D.C. and anything that surrounded it because most of it was reduced to ash or rubble. Rebel forces bombed it; they actually bombed their own country’s capital. Seattle is not what it used to be though. Most of the towering skyscrapers are vacant. Some of the docks have been flooded for years due to the rising sea level. Mount Rainier is no longer topped with snow; it is merely a brown peak in the distance.
From what I have learned, I would have to think that other countries laughed at us. We tore ourselves apart. However there was no outside contact after the first few months of the war, so I wouldn’t know. Now we do things differently. The citizens are still in full blown anarchy, but people like my mother are working to fix things. Only problem is that it's hard to control people who don’t care whether they live or die. As I said before, democracy fell in 2028. It is now 2037, almost ten years later. Most of those years were wasted at war with our own country.
I’m 17 years old, but everyone I come across tells me I act older and that I’m tall for my age. Mother demands that I comb back my blonde hair everyday and dress professionally. I’m smarter than my shy personality brings across, and being a computer whiz is my trademark. There are usually dark circles under my dull blue eyes that used to sparkle. It is hard to sleep soundly every night when I can hear rapid gunfire or explosions a few miles from our house. Well, I should say mansion. Mother has the top job in the country right now, and our material possessions are a reflection of her salary. Our house is equipped with all the latest technologies. Whatever she wants, she gets. My mother is the one who runs the show. I would classify her as more of a dictator than a president, but that’s just my opinion.
“Honey, come downstairs for breakfast!”
Her voice pulls me out of a daydream. Often the stress of the whole situation sends my brain into overdrive, where before I know it I’m recapping my entire life. I put on my best pair of suit pants, a lavish blue button down shirt, and a tie. Today my mother is implementing a new idea that she thinks can stop the rioting. She has convinced everyone that knows about it that it will work. I myself have no idea what the plan is, but I doubt it can fix this chaos. She thinks she knows everything, but what she doesn’t know is that I hate the way she controls me.
Downstairs she has an entire breakfast display set up. I take a triangle of toast and cover it in scrambled eggs without saying a word to her the whole time. Mother fills my glass with orange juice and tries to smile at me. Her brown hair is pulled back into a tight bun and her face is caked with makeup. She wears heels to hide how short she is, which is only about five feet tall. Her fake personality disgusts me, but I have to put on a good face.
“You’re coming out with me today, right Nathan?”
I roll my eyes while she’s not looking and answer her question, “That is correct.” She always encourages me to use proper language.
The helicopter is waiting for us when we walk outside. It is raining just like every other morning, so one of the escorts holds umbrellas over our heads. Truthfully I hate how glorified we are. They portray us as the saviors of America, with the fate of her future resting in our hands.
We arrive at headquarters, and I’m quickly whisked off the helicopter by a few guards. There have been problems with safety and threats surrounding this place since the day it was built. A few years ago I had to wear a bulletproof vest. But today, we make it into the building safely. The headquarters dwarfs any building left in Seattle. It replaced the Space Needle, which was torn down near the beginning of the war. The outside of the building looks like a prison. There are guards holding blasters and chain linked fences. Inside is a much different story. No one speaks about the chaos going on outside. The focus is work. There are hundreds of rooms with even more hundreds of people in them. Technology is everywhere I look, and seems a bit overwhelming at times.
I watch as Mother turns right and I’m pulled to the left. She didn’t even tell me goodbye or that she’d see me later. I know that she is a crucial part in what is left of our government, but I feel neglected. They take me to an observing room where a projected screen cut in two sections covers an entire wall. The walls are made of thick glass, allowing me to see any activity going on outside of the room. Various people are mingling together talking or watching what is on screen. When I finally pay attention to the screens, what I see shocks me. I’ve been to the place in the video. Downstairs in the infirmary, beds full of people are hooked up to intravenous lines. A pink solution travels through the tube and into their bodies. They lay perfectly still with their eyes closed, presumably under anesthesia.
“What is that?” I whisper to a man who is sitting next to me. He is wearing a lab coat, so he must have some idea what is going on.
“They call it Flummox,” he says in a disturbing voice. “It is a neurological modifier created by world class scientists that is capable of changing memories. And it’s how we’re going to save America.”
Immediately a red flag goes up in my mind. I watch as someone on the screen wakes up. The man is calm and cooperative, two things I haven’t seen in a while. A nurse removes the IV from his arm while he nods his head and smiles at her. She points in the direction of a set of double doors. The man slowly gets up and disappears through them. On the other half of the screen, two guards are dragging a kicking and screaming woman inside. They pin her down on a bed and a nurse jabs her with a needle. She’s out in less than five seconds.
I tell the guard at the door that I need to go to the restroom. Of course this is a lie. Once I’m out of sight, I find a stairwell and jog down a few flights to the basement level. Quietly, I crack the door open and peek inside. Everyone is busy doing something, so I open the door all the way and step inside like I belong here. Not a single person looks at me.
As long as no one is asking me questions, I walk through the infirmary and stop at several beds with people receiving the drug. They probably won’t even know what happened to them when they wake up. According to the guy back in the observation room their memories of rebellion will be gone. I turn around to leave and go back to the observation room, but I bump right into two stern looking security guards. My brain thinks faster than I tell it to and I’m running in the opposite direction towards the stairwell. I hear heavy footsteps behind me, but I don’t look back. Churning beneath me, my legs start to burn as I take the stairs two at a time. I have to think of a way to lose them.
There is a door on the fifth floor that I take, although I don’t know where it leads. I bust through it and run straight into the backs of a brick wall of guards. They turn on me and shove me to the floor. One of them kicks me in the side while another pins my arms behind my back.
“I’m Charlotte’s son!” I yell at them in between breaths.
At that very moment I hear voices coming down the hallway, and my mother appears, flanked by a group of people. I look up at her from the ground.
“Stop,” is all she says. The men get off and she helps me up. “Are you all right Nathan?”
I tell her I’m fine, and she puts her hand on my shoulder, taking me with her. I look back and smirk at the guards. She asks what happened, but all I offer is that I was taking a walk when those guards tackled me.
“Son, there’s something you need to know.”
I’m way ahead of her, “What? That you hired an army of scientists to edit people’s memories to make them think you were elected democratically? Because it that’s what you need to tell me, I already know. I saw it on screen. Oh, and I know all about the Flummox. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” The last few words come out sounding more cruel than I intended, but I just go with it.
All she says is that this is the only way to fix things. I think otherwise. Instead of going back to the observation room, Mother takes me with her to wherever she and the group of people were going. The room we stop in front of requires her fingerprint and a password before granting us access. Two doors slide open and reveal a whole new world.
“Impressive, isn’t it,” Mother tells me without giving me the chance for an opinion. All I see are her newly edited people talking amongst themselves. They look too cheerful and fake.
After showing me around the room, Mother sends me home. I’m fine with it; I need some time to think. What she’s doing is wrong, and it only works because she has everyone who works for her indoctrinated. In a way, I find myself actually agreeing with the rebels. I’ve always felt like a rebel, but against my mother, not the country. I understand where they are coming from. They are fighting for freedom that they deserve. Right then a firm resolve plants itself inside of me. These people have the right to choose what kind of life they want to live. I never got that choice, but I’m going to give it to them. I wish someone had done the same for me. However, stopping a current leader, who happens to be your own mother, is a large task for a seventeen year old. All I know is that I have to sabotage the Flummox. I go to sleep that night forming a plan in my head. I’m going to act interested in what she’s doing so I can go back to headquarters.
The next morning she totally takes the bait. I apologize for the way I spoke to her yesterday and tell her that I want to help. We get back to HQ and she agrees to let me shadow her for the day. I learn vital information, such as the Flummox does not work on its own, but rather is controlled by one master program which happens to be located in this building.
“So, what would happen if the program stopped working?” I ask her, curious for answers.
Mother laughs at me and raises her eyebrows, “You don’t have to worry Nathan, it won’t stop working. If it did the whole system would fail, and I’m not letting that happen.”
Bingo! She gives me exactly the answer I am looking for without even knowing it. All I have to do is find the program and delete it. Sounds easy enough to me. Besides, I have a pretty good guess as to where I can find it. Her office is a treasure chest full of secrets.
When she’s done telling me all about the plan, secretly giving me the answers I need, one of her agents whispers in her ear and she has to leave again. It’s perfect timing. I’m ready to work some magic and bring my covert plot to life. I tell Mother I’m getting lunch in the cafeteria, and of course it works because she trusts me. Not that she should, but she does. On my way to the “cafeteria”, I break into a janitorial closet. My ability to make things up on the fly amuses me. Inside the closet I put on an oversized navy blue jumpsuit and add gloves, a hat, and a tool belt. As I leave, I roll a mop trolley next to me and pull my hat just over my eyes so no one will be able to see my face.
I have to keep myself from laughing as I completely bypass every security guard I run into. No one says a word to me, they just nod their head or give me a thumbs up. I make it all the way to the door of Mother’s office with no problems.
“I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to come back. The president is busy,” says an oversized, grotesque man who is guarding the door.
Deepening my voice, I respond, “Uh, my shift ends on the hour. So it’s now or never buddy.”
His irritation is obvious, but he decides to let me in when I promise not to disturb anyone. Just as I reach for the handle, the door opens from the other side and my heart jumps when I see Mother. She is walking out with her usual group of assistants. I hold my breath and keep my head down as they file past me. The room in front of me is now vacant. Even the guard who was at the door left. I bring the mop trolley inside and shut the door behind me. I lock it, because I’d rather have someone angry that I locked it then walk in on me using the president’s computer.
The computer has a passcode, but I quickly hack it using my intelligence. Whoever was on the computer last was careless and left all the windows open, making my job easy. There is only one program running, making it the one I’m looking for. It’s surprisingly easy from there. I navigate to the program’s settings and find the termination option. There is another password. I laugh and think to myself, Does everyone think that passwords protect everything?
I give them credit; this password is harder to crack, but within a few minutes I’m watching a progress bar work its way to one hundred. It flies past fifty, then sixty, and seventy. I watch it pass ninety and close in on one hundred. Momentarily it looks as though it stopped at ninety nine, but then a green checkmark appears. Deleting it was almost effortless; I had honestly expected more of a struggle.
Before I leave I put the computer back to exactly how I found it. I even stage a fake malfunction so it looks like it was the program’s fault it failed. I knew my computer knowledge would pay off. Then, seeing my mother jogging through the halls on the security camera images, I grab my cart and get out of there. No doubt they will be here any second, looking for whoever or whatever did this.
Once I’m back in the hallway I pick a bathroom and dump my janitor cart and clothes there. I walk out casually and head in the opposite direction of Mother’s office. As I’m walking, the floor and light fixtures above me suddenly start shaking. I become legitimately scared when I realize the rebels could be bombing the building. I run down a few flights of stairs and head towards the main lobby. There I find the source of the shaking.
People who were injected with the Flummox have broken out of the sanctuary room and are now attacking guards. Like I hypothesized, they must have realized what was done to them after I deleted the program. Citizens outnumber the guards, and they show it by double teaming them. I watch as one holds a guard up with his hands behind his back and the other citizen completely destroys his face. This isn’t the part I want to see, so I decide now would be a good time to find Mother and act like I have no idea what is happening.
I turn around to head back the way I came but I see a pack of ten or fifteen people coming towards me. They each hold their own mysterious object in their hands. There is no doubt in my mind they are coming after me; there is no one else within fifty feet of me. My body turns to flight or fight mode as they close in on me. I weigh the outcomes of each. This all takes place in a matter of seconds until I decide my puny fists don’t have a chance. I should run. The only way I can go without having to get through the people is to the left, down a long hallway.
To convince myself, I count to three in my head and promise myself that I’ll run. One. The group is getting close enough to where I can see their facial expressions. They don’t look very pleasant. Two. There is a man all the way on the left that looks like he has a small handgun. I’ll make sure to run in a zig zag if I hear gunshots. It’s now or never. Three!
My muscles contract and I push off from the ground as hard as I can with the soles of my shoes. I feel like a cartoon character that is running but seems to be getting nowhere. I make it to the end of the hallway and turn right, only to come across another mile long hallway. This place is a lot bigger than I originally thought. My challengers must be right on my tail; they looked like grown men and women who are very physically fit. But I don’t dare look over my shoulder, I just keep running as fast as my body will allow me to.
Just as I think I might stand a chance escaping from them, I round a corner and my feet slip out from underneath me. My face smacks the floor and the wind is knocked out of me. Knowing they are gaining ground on me, I plant my hands on the ground and push myself back up. My feet get back under me only to give out again as someone shoves my back with both their hands. I land on my stomach and again, try to get up, but a stiff foot presses down between my shoulder blades.
“If you move again I’ll blow your brains out,” a voice yells at me.
"I didn't do anything wrong!" I yell at them while fighting the urge to get up. "I'm the one who deleted the program!"
"Yeah, and I'm the one who invented sliced bread," he says mockingly. His words are so random they anger me even further.
"I'm the president's son," I tell them. Unfortunately after the words leave my mouth, I realize I probably shouldn't have disclosed that information.
"Get him up!" Whoever has their foot on my back grabs both of my arms and yanks me violently off the ground. He holds them behind my back like a prisoner and drags me with them. I try telling them that I'm on their side, but of course they just ignore me. From then on I keep my mouth shut while we walk through the maze of hallways.
It seems like forever until we finally stop and I lift my eyes up from looking at the floor. We are standing in front of Mother’s office. A feeling of unease creeps over me. One of the men presses his ear up against the door, then nods at the rest of us. I watch as he turns the doorknob and slams his shoulder against the wood, sending the door open with a loud crash. A couple of the guys pull out guns that were concealed and march into the room. Everyone turns to look at us. Mother spots me and I see her lose her breath for a moment. The man who was holding me lets go of my arms.
“What is this about?” Mother asks, still looking at me.
“Revenge,” a few of them say at the same time. Then the leader of the group raises his gun and points it at her.
“Stop!” I yell. “Kill me, not her.”
“Oh don’t worry, we’ll kill both of you,” he responds. “You’re both traitors.”
Mother asks what they want, but all they keep saying is revenge, revenge, revenge. She offers them money, immunity, and all sorts of other things. I know it can’t be much longer until someone fires a gun. As usual, I’ll have to be the one to make the move. Mother thinks compromising and using words will solve this problem, but I know we need to do something. The guy standing directly in front of me has a gun on the back of his belt that I could probably grab if I moved quickly enough. However, as soon as I snatch the gun, the other armed men will shoot me with no warning. I’d be lucky to die with only four or five bullets in me. Unless…
Their leader is obviously important to them; they follow his every move and command. There is no way they would risk losing him or they wouldn’t know what to do. He will be my target. I take a deep breath, knowing this could be my death wish. Everyone is distracted by the conversation between Mother and the leader, making it the perfect time to strike. I focus my eyes on the gun.
One of my hands grabs the handle while the other lands on the man’s shoulder blade and pushes him forward. I know I achieved surprise when he stumbles forward and lands on his knees. Immediately I aim the gun at the leader’s head. Everybody is silent with their eyes trained on me.
“Let us go,” I demand. “And I won’t shoot.”
None of them seem amused. This is where I get the sense that they are more than willing to sacrifice a few for their leader. They are probably already forming a plan in their heads to take me down. Do I pull the trigger or wait for them to? My brain wrestles with itself while I decide what to do. There are obvious consequences for each action, but I have to do something. I’m stuck in this situation.
A loud noise, followed by warmth. That warmth begins to escalate until it burns. Adrenaline enters my bloodstream on cue. The heat goes away. There is no pain. In fact, I could run a marathon right now. My eyes are stuck on my mother’s face. She is yelling and running towards me. Her arms wrap around me, and I feel myself being lowered to the ground.
“Nathan, oh Nathan,” she cries in between sobs. Her hazel eyes are locked onto mine.
Mother’s voice fades. I begin to feel cold, but not like the temperature cold. It is more of a deep, empty feeling that I am alone and heading towards the darkness. Her tears drip onto my face and join with mine. They run down my cheeks in a crooked line and I taste how salty they are. I look up at my mother. She doesn’t even know that I’m the one who deleted her precious program.
“Mother,” I manage to choke out. My voice is a whisper, but still manages to fill the silent room. “I was the one…” The pain cuts me short as it threatens to consume me. “The one who deleted the program.” Somehow I finish my words, but all I want to do now is sleep. Her lips are moving, but I am lost in a vast oblivion.
It is the end of the chess game. I am down to my final two pieces, a pawn and my king. The other player has me set up, calling check every couple of moves while I continue trying to escape. I know I can’t run forever. Life is closing in on me and all I can do is watch. Every second it is one step closer to killing me, to knocking over my king forever. They take my pawn, leaving my king cornered. I am outnumbered and fooled. My great king has been knocked over, clattering across the chess board with every bit of despair. Did I ever think I could beat life?