Future City

I was inspired by a some stories and games, including Bioshock and Fallout.

Setting
In the year 1947, two years after World War 2 ended, Samuel Walter created a city. This city is the one of the most technological advanced cities of the time, maybe even the best. It's technologies and size of this city is an envy to New York and Washington, and even other countries.

Now, this city has been destroyed by the science it cherished. This city is Antiquity.

"A little Violence"
May 23, 1958

John Erickson fell to the ground in agony. Everything he had gone through just to get here, the fighting, the running; all of this was worthless.

In front of John was the idled Monorail, with its sleek white body ready to travel 35 miles per hour. Unfortunately, thanks to the U.S. air force; that wasn’t going to happen. The Monorail’s track had been blow up when some P-80’s came over Antiquity. Plan A had certainly gone to hell……

But it was no time to wallow in self-pity. He needed to get out of here, and fast. But it wasn’t going to just take an hour like before. John got up from the ground, and walked to the escalators. He was surprised that they still worked now, but then again; the whole city was powered by good old atomic power. He got on the escalator, and it whisked him away down toward the towering stations main level. John thought about just fast walking down the escalator, but something caught his eye. He looked up toward the ceiling, and saw that there were multiple TV’s lining the whole way down. And there was still a movie running.

It started as “, Fantastic Films Presents,” in cursive, and quickly the screen went blank. All of the sudden, Samuel Walter was seen sitting at his desk, writing papers to god-knows-who. He looked up from his desk, and smiled. “Oh, didn’t see you there,” said Walter, getting out of his chair “, it’s about time that you got here; I hope you all enjoyed your trip.” Walter migrated over to his personal wine cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of red wine (John could tell, even though the screen was in black-in-white. “Well, I would like to welcome you all to Antiquity. I created this city back in 1947, with a group of my closest friends, as a research center. It started out small scale, nothing more than a small, steel fenced area. Then, we hit the big one….”

Walter took a sip of his wine, and exhaled. “….we discovered how to harness the full power of the atom. Some of you might be thinking, ‘well, haven’t we already done that already?’ You’d be wrong if you thought that. We managed to figure out the atom’s full potential, what other scientists haven’t even discovered now.’

“Now, I better get going before….” said Walter, before a small cartoon character in a space suit came flying onto the screen. “Hello, Mr. Walter’s. I hope you aren’t forgetting about me,” said the character, smiling almost idiotically. “Of course not, Carl,” said Wilson, looking apologetically at the character “, do you want to say bye to the people?” What people, thought John.

“Golly,” said Carl the Astronaut, looking toward the screen “, bye, the people!”  Walter and Carl both laughed out loud, and the screen quickly went black, showing ‘copyright: 1954’. John saw that the huge escalator was ending, and took a step so he wouldn’t fall.

What greeted him was another poster of Mr. Walter, painted; with the words “Enjoy your piece of Paradise.” Below the lettering was the symbol of Anarchy, drawn in blood. John turned, and started walking toward the exit of the terminal. The two leveled terminal was in ruins; trash and debris lay on the ground, and an occasional dead body. Results of a civil war, thought John.

Erickson stepped outside into the cool breeze, and stared at the monuments of Antiquity. The skyscrapers of Antiquity. They weren’t that old, yet they looked like they were destroyed about thousand years ago. They were still burning, and the smell of smoke and ash filled the air. But John had gotten used to that. He walked down the concrete stairs, which lead to the car and littered street below.

Ford’s, Chryslers, and other car brands were left on the streets; some with doors ajar, others with blood stains on them. On the side of the road was the short buildings, diners, shops, and other things. “Dave’s Diner”, “Red Rocket Gas”, “Eden Genetics and Cosmetics”, and “Cheese Haven” were just a few of those names. But the worst in shape would have probably have been Eden.

The whole store had been completely torn apart, literally. Glass and stone lay thrown and broken on the ground, and graffiti had been drawn over the one level store. What had happened here was the scene of junkies needing their fill.

John started to walk into the store, trying to avoid the biggest pieces of glass on the ground. Alright, just be careful, he thought, ''you don’t want to alert them. Ok, one step……two step…..three step…..fo…. ''“Freeze,” said a voice from inside the shadowy interior. Shit, thought John, taking a step back. But, he could hear others from behind him, and when he turned, he could see the deformed faces of the former residents of Antiquity. Now they were less than that.

“Look what we have here, Dale,” said the one Deform, sporting a Winchester on his shoulder “, think he has any upper syringes on him?” The one Deform came out of the darkness, and John turned to see a disfigured face that looked as if it wanted to just slide off. “I don’t know,” said the Deform “, I guess were going to have to find out.”

“Oh boy!” shouted the other, coming closer to John with a Thompson submachine gun. John tried to find a way out of the quickly enclosing group. “You guys have it all wrong,” said John, looking nervously around “, I got nothing like that. I had to leave everything at home….” One of the Deform’s smirked “; I think the little bastard is lying. Let’s tear him apart!”

John collapsed to the ground; he knew he was going to get now. After all this time, going from his home on the outer rim of this huge metropolis and to the station; he was going to get it. Suppose it was a matter of time, he thought to himself.

But, the Deforms stopped moving. “What the hell was that?” asked one of them. John listened for a second, and he heard the sound too. It was a loud clanking sound, like a steam engine slowly moving on a track. Suddenly, one of the wall’s near them exploded into dust, and a metal suit came treading through it.

“FUCK!!” yelled on of the Deforms, aiming his Thompson and firing at the huge piece of metal. It turned, showing it’s almost skull like face to John, and fired at the Deform with its wrist machineguns. The Deform screamed as blood jetted out of his body, and he fell to the ground. It took John only a couple of seconds to realize what it was, a GOLEM suit. You just didn’t see those around Antiquity a lot anymore.

The GOLEM then went toward the junkie named Dale, and grabbed him. Through Dale’s screaming, the GOLEM slowly began to tear him apart sideways. Then, Dale’s spinal cord snapped, and he was no more. The GOLEM threw away the remains of Dale, which made a squish sound as they landed on the ground. “Oh, Je-SUS Christ!!!” yelled the last Deform, throwing down his weapon and running.

But the GOLEM didn’t stop there. It raised its arm, and fired two shots out of the wrist machine guns. The back of the head of the Deform exploded into gray matter and blood, and he landed face down on the concrete, dead.

The GOLEM checked it’s surrounding to see if the coast was clear, and when it (or whoever it was) did, it started walking toward John. It stopped right in front of John, and extended its huge hand to him. “Do you need any attention?” asked the machine. John took its hand, and it lightly helped him off the ground. When he was up, he brushed dirt off of his green shit and brown pants, before talking to the GOLEM. “No thanks,” he said, before eyeing the guns “, but I think I need one of those.”

The GOLEM looked down on John, and said “, under usual circumstances, I would not even be allowed to have you in a 20 foot radius of a weapon; but since this is wartime……yes, you can.” John nodded, and quickly grabbed the Thompson, avoiding the mutilated body when going to it; the Winchester 1912, and Dale’s 1911. He stuffed the pistol in his belt, and hung the Thompson over his left shoulder. Then he grabbed the remaining ammo from the Deforms, and turned to the GOLEM.

“Alright,” said the GOLEM “, let’s go.” It began to clank away again, but John was still standing there in awe. “Wait!” he yelled. The GOLEM stopped, and it turned its head toward John. He felt an almost surge of fear in his body as the thing looked at him, but he quickly got over it as it began to speak. “We’re going to see my boss, now come on, let’s go,” the GOLEM said, before clanking along the road.

John took one more look at the GOLEM, which stood two times as high as him, and quickly ran up to it. The city burned in the distance, and somewhere gunfire was being exchanged yet again.

Christmas Day Massacre
December 24, 1956

Samuel Walter, the great founder of the city of Antiquity, laid down on his desk face first. Behind him were some of Antiquity’s great skyscrapers, whose lights silhouetted against the dark night sky. “Mr. Walter?” Sam still laid asleep, with his a bottle in his right hand and a pen in his left. His tears had finally dried up hours ago, and he was sleeping happily.

“MR. WALTERS” shouted Mark Holston. At this instant, Walter woke up from his deep sleep, and knocked off three bottles of scotch that lay on the table. Walter looked up at Holston, that tall and built blonde hair man, and smiled. Holston looked at the remaining bottles on the table, about six left, and looked at Sam.

“Have you been drinking, sir?” he asked, picking up an empty bottle. Mark Holston, after all, was responsible for the problem know as Walter: he was his second in command. Walter shook his head, even though it felt like bricks, and pushed up a paper. “I’ve been writing to Senator Buckman recently, and it seems that our friend thinks that we’re becoming a nation-state; and he’s threatening me with calling a meeting in the senate. Must have fallen asleep during the process of writing.”

Mark rolled his eyes, and then went to the subject he wanted to talk about. “Sam,” he said, softly “, you do realize that you have a Christmas speech at ten o’clock, and its nine forty-five right now.” Walter’s eyes widened and he looked at the clock that hung in his office. It was exactly that time. He began to scramble to find his speech papers, grabbing anything he could find. Damn this hangover, he thought.

Mark was already holding the door open when Sam began to stumble toward the door. It was odd site, watching a hung over man try to reach the door, and almost stumbling over a coffee table. Sam’s female secretary looked inside as he stumbled toward the door, and Mark quickly extended his hand. Sam grabbed ahold of it, and they began to walk toward the elevator. The secretary, who had been watching the whole time, went back to her typewriter.

They both walked into the cylinder shaped, outdoor elevator that traveled alongside the building. Walter’s building was a marvel in itself, it was one of the tallest buildings in the entire city; and it was the best looking (it was styled using Art-Deco). The best way to explain this building would be like looking at the Cathedral of Learning in Pittsburg, except taller and wider.

Sam pressed the “3rd” floor button, and the doors shut. The elevator then sped down to the 3rd floor of the hundred story building. Sam and Mark watched as the tips of the other skyscrapers began to disappear, and all that was left was the bodies of these magnificent buildings.

After traveling for at least two minutes, Sam and Mark arrived at the third floor. Ok, thought Mark, ''we only need to walk a couple more feet, get to the other elevator, and then get to the limo. Yeah. ''The door opened up, and, to the displeasure of both of them; they were greeted by flashing lights. Sam covered his eyes, suffering a major hangover and camera flashes didn’t mix.

Mark looked over to the security guards, who were standing on the side in full riot armor, and yelled “, hey, dumbshits! We need help here!!!” The guards, grumbling to themselves, plunged into the crowd and made a path for the two. Mark quickly ran with Sam holding his shoulder, avoiding the many eager reporters. “Mr. Walter? Mr. Walter? Are the rumors true about Eden Genetics? Are they using nuclear wastes in our Genetic Enhancers?” “Mr. Walter? Are you really trying to succeed us from the Union?”

Mark heard many other questions, about the city, the drugs, the nation, the rebels….. Mark and Sam both reached the elevator, and he quickly threw in Walter, literally. Then Mark spoke to the crowd “, Mr. Walter will not be answering any questions on Christmas Eve, Gentlemen!” He then walked backwards into the elevator, and pressed the Lobby Button.

“What the hell did you do that for?” asked Walter, rubbing his head. Mark turned around, obviously angered, and Walter kept quiet. “I’ll tell you why I did that,” said Mark, whose face was now red “, I’ve been putting up with your shit for at least a year now, running the city, handling the politics; while you drank and partied with Antiquity’s celebrities. And now, your drunk ass is trying to direct me. I should own this damn city, not you! So, here’s the game plan for tonight. You better get yourself sober, or I’m leaving my position!”

Mark turned back toward the elevator door, and Walter remained silent.

“…..and so, it is imperative that this Christmas, we should all give thanks for what we have. Whether you or Catholic or not Catholic, each and every one of us has something to be thankful for this Christmas. I would probably be most thankful for the city’s mail system still functions speedy.”

The crowd laughed at Walter’s cheap joke, and he decided it was best to end the speech here. He had gotten sober on the way here by using another amazing product form MedCo, the “Sober-gel” Just rub it on your head, and get moving; fucking amazing.

“And so,” he continued “, I would like to wish you all a happy and warm Christmas, from the heart!” Walter raised his wine glass, and there was applause and cheering from the crowd. But, unknown by the rest of the crowd, three men were sneaking to the front of the crowd. One of the men wore a tan trench coat, and had his hand directly in the coat.

Then, one of the people in the crowd shouted at the top of their lungs “, HE’S GOT A GUN!!” The man chringed, he had been discovered. He quickly pulled out his pistol, a Star Model B, and aimed at Walter; who was walking off stage. “FOR FREEDOM!!!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and pulled the trigger.

There was a large flash, and the 9mm bullet flew out. It struck Walter’s right arm, and he collapsed to the ground. The other men quickly pulled out their own weapons, an M1 Grand and a Thompson submachine gun, and began to fire into the crowd. Mark was kneeling over Walter now, who was staring blankly into space.

“Someone get a doctor!” screamed Mark, but he quickly silenced. Oh no, he thought. The GOLEM security suits began to walk in front of the stage, right in front of Sam and Mark. “Citizens; leave the premise immediately, or you will be fired upon.” Damn these new automated units, thought Mark. “Mark 3, seize programing immediately.” The GOLEM’s did not listen though “, warning, this is your last chance to leave the premises, or you will be fired upon. The group of three rebels began to fire upon the two GOLEM’s, and they immediately raised their arms. “SEIZE PROGRAMING IMMEDIATELY!!” yelled Mark at the top of his lungs.

But Mark’s shouts were of no use. The GOLEM’s began to fire on the crowd, killing the rebels, and many civilians as well. Mark watched in horror has the GOLEM’s killed the retreating people, deeming them ‘attackers’.

The next day, Christmas Day, Antiquity was shocked by the horrors of the night before. Slowly, the city began to be torn apart. But this was not the cause of the fall of Antiquity, only the lighter.

Continuing the Journey
May 23, 1958

John Erickson had felt uncomfortable with the GOLEM a half an hour ago. But now, he’d gotten used to him, or her, or even it. The GOLEM walked straight forward, never taking its eyes off the front. It sometimes even twisted its head a little, but that was it. John ran up beside the machine, and began to walk at its pace.

“You don’t talk a lot do ya’?” asked John to the strange being. “I wasn’t allowed to talk to civvies when the civil war started,” said the GOLEM “, and I’m sure as hell that I won’t now.” John frowned “, you could at least tell me your name, unless your all wires and lights underneath that hull.” The GOLEM stopped, and turned gracefully down to John, and crouched.

“You really want to know?” it asked, looking into John’s eyes. Even through his fear, John nodded. If he didn’t know about…..whatever this thing was now, he would be obsessed later. “My name is Calvin Williams,” said the metal beast, looking up into the sky “, I was a police officer way back when, before all this craziness went down. When all the riots and brawls went down with the gangs and Eden, I signed up for Walter’s ‘Street Guard’ program, and I’ve been a GOLEM ever since.”

The GOLEM, or Calvin Williams, began to walk down the car filled street, and John followed; relieved. The two of them went past the other ruins of Antiquity; monuments, offices, stores, a high school (“Which was boarded up by some Deforms who thought we couldn’t find them there”, said Calvin), and other skyscrapers.

John managed to see a Service-bot next trying to grab the attention of a dead soldier next to a Patton tank. It was colored Red and White, signifying that it was a Medical unit. “Do you need any assistance, sir?” the humanoid machine repeated over and over again. John was slightly disturbed by the site, but he turned away and kept walking.

They arrived then at a small square, which had been a scene of a massacre. A U.S. army platoon had wandered too far into Deform territory, and must have been slaughtered by them. Tanks and bodies littered the statue of Mr. Walter in the middle, which had been decapitated and vandalized. That explains the other soldier a while back, thought John; shuddering. “I used to walk down this road to get to Air Transit Terminal one, and go to headquarters,” Calvin said aloud. John looked at Calvin, and felt pity for that metal man. He’d loved this city more than John had, and he’d watched crumble before his eyes; and John betted that the pain showed under that suit.

“Let’s get moving, they might still be in those buildings over there,” said Calvin, pointing over to a department store and a bank. Calvin walked into the square first, and John followed him. “Do you see anything?” asked John, now holding his Thompson. Calvin moved his head around in the suit, scanning the buildings, and said “, I don’t see anything, but keep a lookout. My thermal vision isn’t working, so I can’t really say that no one’s here.”

Calvin took another huge step, and stopped in his tracks. John ran into Calvin’s suit, and although it didn’t hurt bad; it still stung. “I think I see something,” said Calvin. As soon as he said that, a laser bolt came from the third floor of the department store, and hit Calvin in the Right Arm. “Found you, bastard….,” he said, before a huge volley of gunfire and laser bolts came from the other buildings “; or basterds.”

John took cover behind Calvin, shooting the best he could at the Deforms. John looked up quickly to see that Calvin was just standing there. “What the hell are you doing,” he said, taking cover behind Calvin’s leg. “You’ll see,” said Calvin. Then, John saw that a hatch was opening on the suit’s shoulder. A thing came out of it that looked like small metal container on top of a pole.

“Fire missile one,” said Calvin aloud. Then, a missile about five inches long flew out of the box, and rocketed toward the opening in the department store. As soon as it hit the building, a huge explosion followed, sending debris into the air. “Got to love Antiquity’s technology,” said Calvin. But gunfire began to flood out of the department store again. “Kid, do you see that subway station over there?” asked Calvin, nodding his head to a Metro sign.

“Yeah,” said John, reloading his Thompson “, why do you ask?” “I need you to make a run for it, ki….,” said Calvin, before he was interrupted by John. “My name’s John Erickson, and I understand,” he said, holstering his Thompson. “Good,” said Calvin “, now get going, I’ll cover you. And make sure you head toward Newton Heights, my boss will probably find you there.”

John nodded, and began to run for the station at top speed. The Deforms must have noticed him running, because the fire began to increase on his feet.