They tell me that life was perfect twenty years ago. They tell me that there was a time when people lived in peace and prosperity. A time when between Canada and Mexico sat the United States of America, a country of love and equality. A time when crime was under control, and the law brought justice.
Now the United States of America is dead and its citizens live in Anarchy.
Anarchy used to be an adjective, used to describe a place with no government or control. A place of disorder. But the word became a name, a place. The United States became Anarchy.
(location). It is hell. But from what I hear, no place in Anarchy is any better.
Without going into too much detail, I can tell you that any semblance of government is gone. Washington D.C. was destroyed, along with most of the East Coast. There was a war, I guess, nukes or some other weapon of hell given to man. Subsequent riots and uprisings over the next years killed hundreds of thousands of police. People attacked politicians and murdered them in their sleep. In a few years, everything that the people valued was gone.
Supposedly, Europe sent rescue ships and planes, but people shot them down or sank them. Perhaps they were never sent at all; who knows anymore?
There is no law in Anarchy now. Life is ruled by crime; or rather, what would normally be considered crime. When life is narrowed down into a simple battle for survival, what moral code is there to live by? What is still wrong, what is still right? Or are these things only illusions of society, which dissolve when society is dead? Most of the population of the U.S. at the time of the disaster carried with them a basic sense of human decency. These people did not kill others on a whim, but tried to work together or at least not against each other That is why there are still people from the country alive today. But as the years passed those less violent, more kind people were killed off by the violent and ‘amoral’, whose personalities were perfectly suited for the conditions they were in. Now, most of those who are left are not decent, weeded out because they did not have the traits needed for survival when all rules disappear. Selective evolution, I have heard it called. Nature keeps those with the most beneficial qualities alive. Nature is blind to ‘good and evil’.
What am I? I do whatever I think is necessary for survival, and nothing more. I don’t kill people unprovoked, only out of necessity. I will work with someone who is willing to work with me, so far as our cooperation remains beneficial. If we cannot help each other, I will simply suggest we go our separate ways. I will steal, if I feel the theft is necessary and justifiable, although it almost never is. I have no qualms about taking the possessions of the dead, regardless of who that person was or how they died. Does that make me good, or bad, or simply alive? I will leave judgment to you.
In Anarchy, life consists of defending oneself and foraging for food, the first made necessary by the second. A person cannot simply hide from danger forever, not if he or she wishes to continue eating. That person must go out and hunt, forage, or scavenge, and doing so puts him or her at risk. Resources are very scarce and for some people this is enough reason to shoot anything that moves and take whatever possessions it carries. Everyone carries a gun around, though some use it for defense and others for offense. My father has an M16, my mother an Uzi. Even teenagers like myself are given weapons. I own a variety of weapons. My weapons of choice are my dual Colt 1911A1s, which I bring with me everywhere. They might not carry as much ammunition as newer weapons, but they are powerful, sturdy, and reliable.
To increase their chances of survival, some people form into gangs, groups of people who work together for the good of the gang as a whole. Although in theory this is a beneficial process, most gangs are disliked by the nonaffiliated because of the turmoil and dissent they cause. It appears that these gangs are always attacking other gangs or innocent passersby. Sometimes, this description is accurate, and others, it is not.
My name is Kid. I am from Anarchy. This is my story.