Page 28 - The Window_ A Foundations' Style Rapier

Rebel
Juliet Powell, Class of 2025

I stare out of the high-rise window, to the blinding sun just outside. In Lumet, which was once the
United States of America, there is always sunshine and warmth. The only shade is provided by
skyscrapers; there are no buildings less than ten stories tall to prevent overcrowding and make room
for millions of citizens.
I live in Pollua, the capital of Lumet, formerly Kansas City. Pollua is bordered by a thick concrete
wall, yet I’ve only seen pictures of it, because I live closer to the center of the city than the outskirts. The
entire city is elevated off of the ground as a precaution for flooding caused by global warming. The
older generations say they remember the soft white flakes made of delicate ice. They call it snow:
something I have never experienced before
Long green tendrils tickle
The Minotaur the glass window and seem to
Campbell Caldwell, Class of 2026 reach out to me, pleading to join
me in the cool shade of my
apartment. There is nowhere you
can look without seeing the
floating green bodies, suspended
from each balcony to hang over
the flat below.
A single plant belongs to
each family. It’s as simple as that.
And I’m not allowed to know why.
When you turn fifteen the
Government asks, or rather
orders, that you report for
interrogation. No one knows
what happens in those rooms
other than the people who have
experienced it, though I’ve
guessed that the Government
might teach us the secrets of the
plants, but while I hope that is
true, I doubt it. Fifteen is coming
on fast. Soon they will call my
name - Astrid Griffin - over the
speakers reserved for
government use. There is one in
each apartment, and every day at
eight in the morning they play the
national anthem along with the
names of the fifteen year olds
assigned for questioning that
day.
Each month of school
passes more rapidly than the
month before. Soon I will

27 decipher the code, I tell myself.