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Description
Copious amounts of surveillance data- Big Data- are gathered daily. Surveillance is everywhere- supposedly watching, searching for wrongdoers, and protecting. Only when Lily is kidnapped and forced into a life of prostitution along with other stolen girls does she realize that presumptions of the security provided by surveillance are entirely wrong. (Contains mature themes)
Topic: Surveillance Society
Time: Futuristic
Word Count: 1495
This story participated as a scenario in Future Problem Solving Program International's 2014 International Conference. (Duplicate Purchase Alert: This story is included as an example scenario in another one of my titles, 'What I Wish I Had Known: FPSPI Scenario Writing Handbook".)
SAMPLE (257 words out of 1496 words)
I'm lying on my back in the dark room. A black-haired girl keeps telling me to stop talking to myself. I'm not crazy.
I avoid the other girls whenever I can. The black mascara and bubblegum pink lipstick they wear makes them look strangely subhuman. I probably look the same way, but these girls are different -- ominous reminders of my bleak future. Whoever the girls were, they were changed: their wills broken, their names erased, their pride and freedom replaced with subservience and omnipresent fear.
I focus my vision on the only girl in the room who is not wearing makeup. She looks pretty, her features like my sister's. My eyes begin to tear thinking about my family.
"What's your name?" I ask the girl who looks like my sister, but the black-haired girl interrupts.
"My name's Abigail." I know it is a lie because that's the name our masters assigned her. Each of us was assigned a new name upon arrival.
"No!" My voice is mingled with defiance and frustration. Even though I wasn't talking to her, I feel compelled to answer. "It's not."
Abigail bites her lip, as if expecting a pain serum to be released from the microchip under her skin. She hesitates, but turns away.
A couple moments later, the girl who looks like my sister says softly, "I'm Flora." She looks down shyly and brushes her brown hair from her face.
Jasmine is my assigned name, but I hate it even though it's a flower name.
"Hi Flora," I murmur. "I'm Lily."
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