MORNING REFLECTION

August 15th, 12,006 (actual time frame: 10:57PM, Sunday; September 29th, 2007)______________________________________________________________________

You think that by now, I would've remembered to shut off that damned alarm clock--again!

Duh...um...nope. >shakes head<

I'm always thinking that one of these days, my lazy brother would get off his duff and give me something that didn't have to involve committing homicide against the infernal noisemaker. But I remembered that Trell was still in trouble from last night and no amount of pleading from his camp was going to change Mom's mind one iota.

I stayed up late at night--getting some chores done and spending time in my room cleaning my blaster and practicing up on my martial arts. They used to have a name for what I was doing--but the Old Ways had died so long ago--that Calis doesn't even know. He just showed me some study discs of his own one day and told me to start practicing.

Right after I turned 10 no less. The holo-projector and the mono-tone voice would be my teacher for the next three years--until I had progressed well enough on my own to consider being self-taught.

My weapons' training came at the hands of my mom shortly after my dad was imprisoned. It made sense--seeing how I was the oldest in the family. My youngest brother still was too young to properly weild a weapon of any kind; and I didn't know what my mom was thinking--giving a loaded blaster to a 7-year-old girl.

But Calis told me later that it was "better to be safe than sorry."

In the Barren Wastelands, you had no second chance. People had died being unprepared and unprotected these days.

I didn't want to be just another forgotten memory or a land-based statistic.

My birthday was in two more months. And being 15 would take on a whole new dimension by then.

But it left me wondering if I would go gray early like my mom had when she was young?

Life on the surface was no picnic. Let me tell you. People had a habit of aging more quickly in some cases and slower in others.

It depended on their trade in life. Most of scavengers and foragers did. So did a few pilots.

I was the exception to the rule. I wore my age well on the corner of my sleeve. So I figured I would be be mistaken for someone much younger--once I got to a certain point. (Let's hope!)

At any rate, I managed to get up and unplug the alarm clock; silencing it's racket once more.

I stretched and yawned--feeling how tired I was. Not just me. But my whole body.

I ached in places I didn't think was possible. But yesterday's encounter with the storm was more than I bargained for. Not only did I get beat around like an insolent child, but I was almost hit by lightning on my way up the stairs.

The damned bolt came close to blowing my face off--instead was content in knocking me flat on my ass in the process. I could not remember if I had been knocked out or was stunned, or what. But I came to after a few minutes and had nothing but stars before my eyes and an earnest ringing in my ears.

I changed clothes as quickly as I could--knowing that I couldn't afford to stall much longer; not when Calis was expecting me this morning.

Putting on a pair of faded blue jeans, I felt the patch ride up on my leg--a reminder of a hovercycle accident not too long ago.

I smiled at the memory invoked by my own actions and continued to dress myself. Once I finished, I hopped out into the hallway--bypassing some familiarly-frame photos of happier times with myself and my family.

I stopped next to the one that showed me after my hard won victory at the Desert Storm last year--parked right next to three photographs of my father; a man I worshipped greatly in my heart.

And the pang of absence which still lingered. Oh, how I missed him!

I reached out to touch the features of his youthfully framed face--marveling on how happy he was back then; during a family photo session. We were too poor to afford holographic pictures, so we opted for the film prints.

They lasted longer than anything currently on the market--but they didn't have the staying power as the optically-transferred, digital reproductions had.

200 years at least. By then, one of our descendants would have to get replacements.

The picture of me was such an impish one. I could not believe that my mom allowed me to dress in such a hideous outfit! (I shuddered at this point.)

But I suppose it was one of the sacrifices one had to make for an eternal memory wrapped up by time itself.

My mother looked younger than she did these days. I could see a little bit of me in her and I was left wondering if that's whom I would like look like as I grew older with each passing year.

My baby brother looked so adorable in his little sailor's uniform--leaving me to sigh.

No matter what, the most thing I missed in the world was a family. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not recapture those lost moments in time.

Resentment and anger filled me then--as I blamed the Praetorial Guard for what happened to us.

To my brother.
To my mother.
To my father.

And especially...me.

No matter what happened--even if I got my father back--I would still hold the Praetorial Guard responsible for stealing all those years away from us. That much was a certainty.

Of course, people would tell me that I had to take responsibility for my own actions and stop blaming others.

Naturally, that would be the appropriate response.

But this world and the one I live in are so vastly different. Blame was assigned to one thing and not one person. We lived a much different life than the one you know.

The Guard was formed as the answer to humanity's problems. And even though things started out well enough, shit went south for the winter real fast--and we started looking at the Praetorial Guard as the bane in our lives.

Not our saviors as some claimed them to be.

That's the reason why I objected so strongly in going up against Calis's wishes. I did not desire another encounter with the Guard.

I'm sure that they didn't like me, but the feeling was mutual.

I had no love or trust in those stupid turtleheads!

But a promise was a promise nonetheless. And I could not back off now.

It was 5:30 in the morning by the time I went into the kitchen and grabbed some leftover pepperstew (or chili as my mom sometimes called it), and I wolfed it down as quickly as I could; worrying about the heart burn later.

After taking care of my dishes, I left the house soon after.

Isis