History Repeat Repeat Repeat
TITLE: History Repeat Repeat Repeat
AUTHOR: That'd be me, Gravity.
RATING: PG I'd wager. Mentions violence, but doesn't describe it.
WORD COUNT: 858
WARNINGS: Yeah, mentions of violence and such.
CHARACTER/S | PAIRING/S: None really. It's from the point of view of someone who plays no role in the current story.
PROMPT/S: Pineapple - 18: Hindsight is 20/20
SUMMARY: Historical stuff of the universe I'm writing in.
NOTES: Thank you so much to everyone who commented on my last piece, and for all the warm welcomes to the comm <3 This is written in 2143. My main story takes place in the 2160's. This is just setting the scene, more stuff will come later to explain about the origins of my characters and the school they're at.
September 18, 2143. From the log of Liv Kerwin.
Today I recount history. The history that's been, and the history that's being made. It is my hope that this record will be kept, a small victory over those who rule the New World - those who will surely try to rewrite history, to poison the minds of the Powered to come.
No one knows exactly when the Powered first came to be. In all of recorded history, we have been counted among the Non, together as one species - human. No one ever paused to think that this smaller segment of humankind could be something else, something other. At times, we were exalted, called gifted, relied on to improve life. At others, they called us witches, hunted us down and burnt us. But still, we survived.
We always survive.
With the Industrial Revolution and the evolution of science, we were once again taken to be human, counted among the many. Non and Powered lived and worked side-by-side, intermarried, had babies who were both Non and Powered. A couple of centuries past, without anyone thinking it would change. No one ever thinks it'll change.
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, things changed. Slightly, subtly, so that no one knew what was happening. People started getting sick - little outbreaks of deadly diseases. Same as all through history. No one noticed that we, the Powered, we weren't getting sick. Well, they didn't notice yet, anyway.
Several decades went by, with passing frights in the forms of flus and viruses and apocalyptic concerns. Then it came - Virus X. It ripped through the world, destroying everything and everyone it came into contact with. Except us. Except the Powered.
By 2090, the world population was down to three billion. The population had more than halved in less than a decade. True terror reigned. Entire cities were burned to the ground - anything to prevent the spread. Once someone started bleeding from the eyes, they were no longer your wife, your husband, your child, your neighbour. They were the walking dead and they'd take everyone else down with them.
Those few governments still standing were desperate to find a solution. They couldn't do it alone. So they locked themselves away for five days and nights, and when they came out it was official. No more individual nations - only the World Union. And they needed a fix, quick.
Slowly it dawned that of those three billion, one billion were Powered. We weren't just largely untouched by Virus X as previously thought - we were immune. They took some of us away - it started out with volunteers, but then the volunteers never came home, so no one else was very keen on going willingly ... That's when they stopped asking and started taking. They experimented, trying to find what it was that made us immune, so they could harvest it and feed it to the masses. But what they found, they couldn't turn into a cure. It was in the tiny mutations, the millions of tiny mutations that made us who we were.
So without a solution, they needed a reason, something to give the people, something to hate. A hateful people are a better people than a hopeless one. Or at least, that was their logic. We became their scapegoats. They said that Virus X was made by us, in an attempt to wipe out the Non and begin a new era. 2113, the Persecution began.
Many were killed. Just killed, wiped out in a fit of rage from those who had lost everything, had grown up with nothing, tormented by stories and memories of what the world used to be like. The Old World. Nostalgia made deadly by the fact that it was true - the Old World was ideal when compared with the horror of the New. The WU also got in on the action, sweeping hundreds of Powered into facilities, holding pens, cages. However bad things were out in the New World, they were worse on the inside. The worst of human nature thrived. They punished us, the innocent, punished us for something that had already destroyed our lives as it had the lives of every other human. But we weren't human anymore - not in their eyes.
Eventually the rage subsided. Many Powered still survived. We hid and we survived. Some hid themselves away in corners of the world where no one could bother looking. Some hid in plain sight, their powers easier to conceal. A few were protected by the families they were born into, though that was rare. But we survived. We always survive. It's been thirty years since the Persecution began, and we've survived. Some of us fight. The WU calls it a rebellion, but that's a joke. We aren't organised enough - too terrified, rabbits in our holes. We're all just waiting - waiting for the next phase of history. Waiting while the world outside rebuilds itself. Waiting to see if there's a place for us in the New World, either given or taken by force.
Waiting and surviving. Tell me we're doing more when you are. Please.
AUTHOR: That'd be me, Gravity.
RATING: PG I'd wager. Mentions violence, but doesn't describe it.
WORD COUNT: 858
WARNINGS: Yeah, mentions of violence and such.
CHARACTER/S | PAIRING/S: None really. It's from the point of view of someone who plays no role in the current story.
PROMPT/S: Pineapple - 18: Hindsight is 20/20
SUMMARY: Historical stuff of the universe I'm writing in.
NOTES: Thank you so much to everyone who commented on my last piece, and for all the warm welcomes to the comm <3 This is written in 2143. My main story takes place in the 2160's. This is just setting the scene, more stuff will come later to explain about the origins of my characters and the school they're at.
September 18, 2143. From the log of Liv Kerwin.
Today I recount history. The history that's been, and the history that's being made. It is my hope that this record will be kept, a small victory over those who rule the New World - those who will surely try to rewrite history, to poison the minds of the Powered to come.
No one knows exactly when the Powered first came to be. In all of recorded history, we have been counted among the Non, together as one species - human. No one ever paused to think that this smaller segment of humankind could be something else, something other. At times, we were exalted, called gifted, relied on to improve life. At others, they called us witches, hunted us down and burnt us. But still, we survived.
We always survive.
With the Industrial Revolution and the evolution of science, we were once again taken to be human, counted among the many. Non and Powered lived and worked side-by-side, intermarried, had babies who were both Non and Powered. A couple of centuries past, without anyone thinking it would change. No one ever thinks it'll change.
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, things changed. Slightly, subtly, so that no one knew what was happening. People started getting sick - little outbreaks of deadly diseases. Same as all through history. No one noticed that we, the Powered, we weren't getting sick. Well, they didn't notice yet, anyway.
Several decades went by, with passing frights in the forms of flus and viruses and apocalyptic concerns. Then it came - Virus X. It ripped through the world, destroying everything and everyone it came into contact with. Except us. Except the Powered.
By 2090, the world population was down to three billion. The population had more than halved in less than a decade. True terror reigned. Entire cities were burned to the ground - anything to prevent the spread. Once someone started bleeding from the eyes, they were no longer your wife, your husband, your child, your neighbour. They were the walking dead and they'd take everyone else down with them.
Those few governments still standing were desperate to find a solution. They couldn't do it alone. So they locked themselves away for five days and nights, and when they came out it was official. No more individual nations - only the World Union. And they needed a fix, quick.
Slowly it dawned that of those three billion, one billion were Powered. We weren't just largely untouched by Virus X as previously thought - we were immune. They took some of us away - it started out with volunteers, but then the volunteers never came home, so no one else was very keen on going willingly ... That's when they stopped asking and started taking. They experimented, trying to find what it was that made us immune, so they could harvest it and feed it to the masses. But what they found, they couldn't turn into a cure. It was in the tiny mutations, the millions of tiny mutations that made us who we were.
So without a solution, they needed a reason, something to give the people, something to hate. A hateful people are a better people than a hopeless one. Or at least, that was their logic. We became their scapegoats. They said that Virus X was made by us, in an attempt to wipe out the Non and begin a new era. 2113, the Persecution began.
Many were killed. Just killed, wiped out in a fit of rage from those who had lost everything, had grown up with nothing, tormented by stories and memories of what the world used to be like. The Old World. Nostalgia made deadly by the fact that it was true - the Old World was ideal when compared with the horror of the New. The WU also got in on the action, sweeping hundreds of Powered into facilities, holding pens, cages. However bad things were out in the New World, they were worse on the inside. The worst of human nature thrived. They punished us, the innocent, punished us for something that had already destroyed our lives as it had the lives of every other human. But we weren't human anymore - not in their eyes.
Eventually the rage subsided. Many Powered still survived. We hid and we survived. Some hid themselves away in corners of the world where no one could bother looking. Some hid in plain sight, their powers easier to conceal. A few were protected by the families they were born into, though that was rare. But we survived. We always survive. It's been thirty years since the Persecution began, and we've survived. Some of us fight. The WU calls it a rebellion, but that's a joke. We aren't organised enough - too terrified, rabbits in our holes. We're all just waiting - waiting for the next phase of history. Waiting while the world outside rebuilds itself. Waiting to see if there's a place for us in the New World, either given or taken by force.
Waiting and surviving. Tell me we're doing more when you are. Please.