The Crash: A United Lands Novel

By Isabelle Semas

Phybe has always known a life of peace. After World War III, she and her family are cared for by the United Lands Government Organization (ULGO). When Phybe's brother Merek comes home from officer training, Phybe perceives trouble on the horizon. That trouble comes crashing down sooner than she expects, taking the perfectly structured world she

• Language: English
• Publisher: Briley & Baxter Publications
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954819207

Isabelle Semas

Isabelle Semas is a 2021 homeschool graduate. She was inspired by her love of dystopian novels and her Christian faith to write her first book, The Crash, at the age of fifteen.

Book preview

Prologue

ULGO World Headquarters

(United Lands Government Organization)

Date: June 10, 2998

To: President Axworthy and Associates

My fellow colleagues,

In lieu of recent events, that being the signing of the peace treaty for World War III (May 27, 2998), I have a proposition for the senate on behalf of President Axworthy. It will ensure a war of these proportions shall never occur hereafter. He proposes we monitor the lives of the general public and aid them in making their decisions to avoid more devastation such as this. Our suggestion would be to implant technology in every life through which we can oversee their schedules, decisions, and overall lifestyles. This will foster their complete dependence on technology, which we eventually hope to upgrade. Any resistance to this order will be dealt with immediately. We (Axworthy and I) wholeheartedly believe this will build a better society.

Note: This law would not be in effect for settlements on the moon.

Long live Axworthy,

Vice President Vaughn Hawke

Chapter 1: Phybe

Twenty years later

Thud. Thud. Thud. My leg hangs over the edge of the roof, gently swinging in time to my steadily beating heart. I have no fear of falling since the ULGO had invisible nets installed directly after The Breaking, which would prevent my fall. On a rainy day one would have to be more attentive. They turn off when sensing water, as not to hold all of the rain in their powerful net. Still though, the view of the dark pavement twenty stories below causes my stomach to flutter. The early morning sky is the color of my eyes—soft and bleak, as though it hasn’t decided if it wants to let the sun rise today. The United Metropolis stretches to the horizon in all four directions. The only home I’ve ever known—safe, secure.

Its dark, sleek skyscrapers are crowded but neatly placed, reflecting the sun when it decides to shine. Sizable screens cast a blue glow on the city and display government-approved messages. The one nearest me reads, Remember, citizens, CyberCredits are deducted for those who leave wrappers at the Rec Center. The ULGO Headquarters, sitting on an elevated, man-made plateau, regally guards the city in the distance. Its shiny white exterior and manicured lawns give it the look of importance. A sigh escapes my lips. Though the view is impressive and thrilling, it’s Monday. I hate Mondays.

Lost in my private grumbling, I almost miss the soft footfalls of my brother approaching from behind. Almost. When a thump breaks the silence of the morning air, I can almost picture him planting himself down next to me.

If I look over, I will see a young man with sleepy amber eyes and a wild chestnut bedhead. Next to him, two white cardboard boxes—one labeled Phybe MacGregor, age 16, female and the other Merek MacGregor, age 20, male. These are our FoodBoxes, delivered at every meal.

He gives a quiet greeting and lets the silence linger. I close my eyes and smile. Merek left for Official training this fall, and he has finally earned enough CyberCredits to return home on a small break.

CyberCredits are used to buy lots of things—a walk in the park, a family visit, anything that ULGO does not readily supply to us. Not only do they serve as a form of currency, they are also deducted to punish crime less brutally than in the Before Time. It must have taken many to come halfway across the world to visit us.

For a while we stare thoughtfully at the city.

What do you do? In Official’s Training, I mean, I ask.

The whole thing is very dull, he laughs, but I like to fight for what is right, I nod. Both he and I are the same in that way. Gentle, until someone is mistreated. Someday he could make a difference when he becomes a government worker or an Official.

When I look up, Merek’s eyes still hold mine, but their gaze is shallow. I decide to launch another question.

Have you made any friends? He is caught off guard by this question.

Not really. It’s basically all work. But, yes, a few. He shifts his weight and hands me my FoodBox saying, How’s my favorite sister been doing? We laugh. I’m his only sibling. In fact, families around here usually have only one or two children.

Fine. I’m glad you are here now, though. I grin at him.

I noticed you were upset last night when I arrived. Is there something you want to talk about? Merek asks.

I recall the night before, when Merek had arrived. He had immediately exclaimed Phybe, it’s so good to see you!

Yes, I had replied, sighing despondently. Instead of stopping to respond to his confused expression, I had retreated to my room, softly clicking the door shut. Merek, always persistent, had knocked on my door for the better half of the night, and had sent me a message to meet him here when he realized he needed to sleep. I cringe at the memory, and now I try to sidestep the question.

No, it’s nothing, I lie.

Is it me?

No.

"Kids at school?’

No.

If someone is bothering you—

No, Merek, no.

Then it’s Dad and Mom. He knows he’s right when I clench my jaw. I try to ignore his burning gaze and open my FoodBox. Inside sits a plastic bowl of oatmeal.

I frown at the food, suddenly appalled by it. The silence weighs thick on the air; he knows I can’t stand it. I sigh.

They’re acting strange, I admit. Dad stays late at work and goes in early. They both look upset and worried.

In what ways? he asks when I do not continue.

I sigh, and my nose burns with oncoming tears.

Dad was crying. He’s never that shaken up. Tears now begin to blur my vision. My Dad had always been steady and reassuring, and lately he had appeared...undone.

Phybe, My brother waits for me to look at him before he continues. Dad’s job requires him to take risks, and unfortunately, sometimes he has to keep secrets too. He’ll tell you when the time is right. They are doing it to protect you.

I’ve heard this speech many times and am about to roll my eyes until he continues.

There is someone who knows you better than you know yourself. You see: Phybe MacGregor, Official’s daughter, high CyberCredits, perfect grades, immaculate record. He sees someone who stands forgiven. Why don’t you ask Him for comfort when you need it?

I nod, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. ULGO does not directly prohibit religion, but it does limit it so that no one can speak of theirs outside their homes. Technically, we are sitting on top of ours—no rules broken. Merek’s words make me smile.

I'm glad you’re back.

Me too.

Love you

"Love you too.

Why don't you go get ready—it’s getting late, he pats my arm, and I nod.

I head downstairs through the cool hallways and into my house. I have concealed my anxiety about my father for so long that my relief is palpable. I enter my room and then glance at my wallscreen.

Date: May 26, 3018 6:56

Forecast: Mostly Sunny

CyberCredit count: 2,003

FoodBox has been deposited.

The Shower is ready, please deposit used sleeping clothes in the slot.

I follow the directions. The water is infused with lavender oil, and I'm glad for its warmth. When the gentle flow ceases, I step out onto the cool tiles. Air shoots up from the floor to dry my body and hair. I dress in the provided clothing: a pair of grey pants and a matching t-shirt, the standard apparel for an Official’s daughter. The right side of the top of the shirt is embroidered with my name and the ULGO emblem.

I study myself in the mirror. Often, I wonder if I am pretty, but I try not to let it bother me. Merek and my parents assure me that I am. I can barely wrangle my golden-brown curls into a messy braid, the only unruly thing about me.

I have a few extra moments before school starts and decide to rest on my bed. My room is identical to every bedroom in the United Lands—large white bed, light walls, one wallscreen, connected bathroom and shaggy cream rug—it brings me comfort.

Since The Great War in the United Lands, few cities remain and travel costs many CyberCredits. No one minds because life is the same everywhere. Most still remember the uncertainty of life after The Breaking, when the Government had newly combined, and the rebels were whispering rumors of starting a World War. They don’t mind the stability, and uniformity. They want to stay where they are.

The familiar buzz of the screen on my wall alerts me that it’s time to go. I put on my Lifewatch and tap it to double-check my schedule. I grin at the hour labeled free time. Maybe this Monday was turning itself around. Someone knocks on my door.

Come in, the door clicks and slides open at the sound of my voice. Merek.

Not you again! I joke.

Yes, me. He crosses his arms and leans on the door frame.

Later Mom, Dad, and I are gonna head over to the Recreation Center. You have enough CyberCredits? he asks. I nod and grin, ear to ear. I know he set this up for me, to help me in all the events with my parents.

I tuck in my shirt and tie my shoes as is required and prepare to leave. Both parents are at work, and I make a mental note to add the Rec Center to my schedule in the free time slot.

I head out the door where Merek, with many hugs and goodbyes, sends me off. The door’s programmed, Have a good day! echoes faintly through the living room. As I head out to the Transport stop, he watches me the whole way.

The school lies on main street and matches the other Official buildings in our town. Every building after The Great War was repossessed by the government and is issued due to the size of the family living in it and the rank of their job. I live in a block of Official’s families.

As for the school’s occupants, it has its outcasts, popular kids, and those who are between the two groups. I mostly find myself sitting with new people each day.

I step out onto the dark pavement of the road and look up towards the bright sky, framed by the looming buildings around me. The clouds have dispersed, leaving spring sunshine now. People rush past me on the sidewalk, but I’m accustomed to the hustle. Late spring in The United Metropolis—built on the remains of Washington D.C.—is warm. I breathe the sweet air deeply as I make my way to the expansive school.

Most of the students have already filed in. The door scans my face and allows me entry. I yank it open only to collide head on with someone. My hand flies up to my forehead, and I hold it there, just over my left eyebrow.

When the pain in my head finally subsides and my thoughts clear, I open my eyes. The offender, a somber young man, has dark hair that falls into his hazel eyes. He uses his hand to push it back in place. I haven’t seen him smile in years.

I have known Greyson Flaherty since we were in first class. When we were little, we would play together at our parents’ work parties. Last year his mother died in a Transport wreck. We went to the funeral. He had always been a quiet kid, but he had become even more so after that. He never cried during the service, just grimaced. Students say that he is a troublemaker who causes fights in the halls. As a kind of ‘teacher’s pet’ I’ve managed to steer clear of him … until now.

I'm sorry, I say, before the silence can become too uncomfortable. I hold my breath in anticipation. He gazes at my hand, still pressed against the injured area. Uncomfortable, I let it fall to my side, limply. He shifts his gaze back to mine and nods. I believe I can almost see a grin on his lips as he walks away.

We start the school day by facing the ULGO crest, a simple circle with U- L- G- O in its center, and speak the phrase we do each morning, Long live Axworthy.

History/geography class is as boring as ever. The teacher, Mrs. Simmons, is just there to ensure we know how to work our devices properly. I see her sitting at the front of the white room, head hanging low, evidently asleep. Our computers practically work themselves, so I often question why she is still in employment.

My eyes shift back down to the monotonous task before me, and I try my hardest to stay focused.

1)What are the former names of the lands that are now nuclear and toxic wastelands, no longer fit for human inhabitants?

That is easy.

The lands no longer fit for human inhabitants (The NE) were formerly called Russia, China, India and Europe.

2)What region of the world was formerly called the Middle East and Africa?

Yet another easy one. Merek had been there for the past year.

The southeastern lands, or the SE, where soldiers and ULGO employees are trained.

Australia and Antarctica had long been destroyed by tsunamis and hurricanes that ravaged the wild lands. I was fortunate to live in the NW, where few cities besides mine remained—that is, if you didn’t count the Variable sanctuaries.

My mind wanders as I answer question after boring question. My grades have always been high, so I don’t need to try very hard to attain satisfactory results. When I finish what needs to be done on my worksheet, the lunch bell rings. I’m grateful for the relief.

Upon entering the lunchroom, a FoodBox comes by conveyor belt to me. Each person’s is fitted exactly to their needs. Today I have some chunky green soup with dry bread. Not the ideal lunch, but at least it is warm.

My eyes scan the room for a place to sit. Teens crowd around the tables in cliques. I can’t think of who to sit with, who will let me sit with them. I'm about to give up searching for a table when I see a spot open in the far corner. The relief is short-lived, as the spot is in the worst possible area.

The Popular Table is my nickname for this group where every kid that matters sits together. Their parents are mostly Advisors, a rank above my father’s, so I rarely talk to them. Immediately I pick out Maddasynn Lloyd chatting with Knox Murphy. He runs his hand through his ash brown hair and grins, showing a row of perfect white teeth. He must have made a joke because she hits him playfully on the arm and smiles, showing teeth equally as flawless. I can’t possibly roll my eyes any harder.

I long for Merek’s company.

Maddasynn starts to notice me, so I frantically search for another spot. This does not have the desired effect, because she motions for me to come sit. She can’t be doing it for any good reason, but my body is stuck on autopilot, so I automatically accept and walk over.

Hello! Phybe—is it? Maddasynn says, with false pleasure. Her chocolate-colored hair is done in gorgeous waves that fall to her shoulders.

Yes, I say softly. I'm suddenly self-conscious. She motions for me to sit in between her and a bleach blond girl who is consumed in gossiping about someone named Lyra.

When I don’t touch my food Maddasynn says, Oh don’t let us bother you. You must eat, you’re so skinny I can practically see right through you! There it was. That mocking, trampling sensation masked in good intentions. Anger rises in me but I keep it to myself, unwilling to stoop to her level. A handsome boy seated at the edge of the table snickers at the remark.

Did you hear about the game? Knox asks. I tune him out, glad I’m not their verbal punching bag anymore.

The next ten minutes pass painfully as I pretend to care about the topics discussed. But then a topic arises that piques my interest.

A boy, who I find is named Xavier, whispers, "There was a rumor that a Variable tried to break through the wall." We all gasp and wonder at this rumor.

Ew! one prissy girl squeals.

That’s impossible, I mutter. They are supposed to stay in The Cliffs.

The serviceman in charge of him will pay for that! Knox exclaims.

If, Maddasynn adds with an eye roll, he’s telling the truth.

I’m not lying! the storyteller replies. We all sit in silent contemplation. The bell rings for lecture class, breaking us all from our thoughts.

I thank them and begin to rise, relieved to be free of them until someone taps my shoulder. It’s Knox.

Hey, he says. I nod hello to him and he takes a step closer to me. I feel my freckled cheeks flush. Something about his nearness makes me uneasy.

Want to walk with me to class? he asks. Everything in me wants to say no, but I impulsively nod.

Cool, he replies, winking one of his russet-colored eyes. I sigh under my breath. This is going to be a long walk.

A sea of teenagers surrounds me, rushing to get to their lockers. All stop and stare at the scene of Knox walking with me. It’s almost more unbelievable than a Variable coming into The United Metropolis. I clasp my hands so they don’t betray me by their shaking. Knox is the first to talk.

You know, I’ve been a team captain since I was in seventh class. I nod with faux shock.

I’ve scored like, twenty touchdowns in the past year. I nod, pretending to be impressed.

My locker opens upon my reaching it and the door covers his face from my view. I tap my Lifewatch and holograms pop up.

It's really nothing, he replies. I roll my eyes. A hologram tells me what chip to grab, and once it's in my hand, I shut the door with one question in my mind. How much worse can this Monday get? He walks me to the door of my classroom and sends me off with a theatrical wave. A few girls at the back of the room giggle. I cringe.

Lecture class teaches us what we need to know for life after our school. It is the only class not taught completely by computers, as former ULGO Officials teach them. Maybe one day my father will teach one, when he is not needed anymore.

Please take a seat class! says Official Bennet, pushing her long grey hair over a thin shoulder. I move to the back of the class, on a metal bench next to a quiet girl who I know is named Crystal.

Today’s topic is on technology’s role in our society. Put your chips in your tablets and we will begin, she pauses to survey the class and make certain we are doing just that. She commences.

After The Breaking, ULGO wanted to install the technology we so desperately needed. But it was not until the peace treaty was signed one year later, at the conclusion of World War III, when we were able to undergo the onerous task. Humans simply cannot depend on themselves as an effective means of survival. The most obvious alternative was to rely upon the technology that had been developed over the course of time. This automation meant no more mistakes could be made, and production and efficiency increased tenfold. Now our computers do almost all tasks for us, making our lives ideal and exemplary. We should…. She drones on, but it is the same speech I have heard since First class, and I could practically recite it.

I hear a rustling next to me and look up to see Greyson sitting on the bench beside me where a moment ago there was no one. I jump and gasp.

I catch his shy grin just before the warning look from Official Bennet, who will probably take a few CyberCredits from my record. If he had been on time then it would never have happened. I feel a tap on my arm and look over. He is holding his tablet out to me, and it has a note hastily typed.

I'm sorry if I scared you

And for the second time today I question the troublesome rumors of the boy I used to know.

I yank the elastic from my hair and shake out my wild mane, homework completed. I slump on my bed, curls spread out around me. A knock sounds on my door, and I let out a greeting. My mom enters, smiling, her grey eyes lighting up, much like Merek’s amber ones do.

We’re all going to the Rec Center now, are you ready? I put on a smile and reassure her I will be right out.

You’re a good girl Phybe. We know this year has been hard for you. It’s been hard for us too, she adds. Tears brim in her eyes and my own become foggy as I nod.

When we arrive at the Rec Center, Serviceworkers scan our CyberCredits. We go to the courtyard of the building, as the flowers are in bloom now. My family strolls in the courtyard silently until my dad notices someone from work.

My father is an Official, and the people above him are the Advisors, the Chief advisor Vaughn Hawke, and the President, Axworthy. Below