Pilot (1)

"Ok class. This is your last year of college. You've already had four plus years to figure out what you're going to be. Two months left. That's it. No second chances. You pass, you can continue living. You fail, see you in the next life. Don't forget about your thesis next month. Class dismissed." Mr. Booker lazily waves his hand as he goes back to sit down at his desk. I get up and start out the classroom to the hall.

2025. That's the year where all this started. The whole, "prove your worth or die" thing. August 6, 2025, World War III officially started, then ended a year later. Now, how did this happen? Well, when you get a whole bunch of, choice words, as your world leaders, *sigh* one minor inconvenience could blow up the whole world. 2014, China began a genocide on the Uyghurs, Kazakhs, Kyrgyzs, and other Turkic Muslims. In 2025, America decided to do something about it. China grabbed their allies, America grabbed theirs. 2026 came and China was losing, so . . . they sent off their nukes and declared the whole world dead. This started a chain reaction of nukes from any and every nation that had them. The entire world practically blew up. All that remained was a few small islands that were a good ways away from the mainland. The island that I live on is the country that used to be Figi, but now it's the Genesis Una Nico Republic, which means "The beginning of one people." Luckily for us Fiji was able to take precautionary measures and build a dome around its country to keep out the radioactivity that was to come. About a week after the Nukes went off, Figi sent a message through the radio calling for anyone who wants sanctuary to come here. About fifty thousand people came, formed a government, and that's how this all began. Of course, since this is only a small country, we have limited resources. Therefore, if someone doesn't bring anything of use to the country, they will be killed. You get until the end of college to determine if you live or-

"Xander!"

"H-huh?!" I said as I jump. "Oh, it's just you guys." Sasha and Mason approach me and we start walking down the hall together.

"We called your name like ten times. What were you thinking about?" Mason asks.

"I was thinking about my project," I tell them.

"Are you still not gonna tell us what it is?" Sasha asks.

"Nope, can't risk it," I tell her as we exit the building. She rolls her eyes. "Ok, how about I show you the week after next?"

Sasha squints her eyes at me and says, "That's acceptable."

"Anyways you guys wanna come over? Unlike Xander, I'm not afraid to show my invention," Mason says nudging me with his elbow. I roll my eyes.

"Is that shade I hear, 'Mr. Perfect'?" Sasha asks.

"Slight, slight. But anyways you guys wanna come over or not?" Mason asks.

"That would be lovely, but I can't stay for long. I have to attend dinner with my parents and their work friends. I have like an hour thirty till I have to be there so let's hurry it up," she says, and we start to walk faster.

"Dang, I can already tell that'll be hella boring. Hey, but at least through this you'll already have a ninety-five percent chance of passing the test already," Mason tells her.

"Yeah, yeah. You already know that even without my parents I would still pass. I'd be an amazing politician. Stop making it seem like even if I was a lazy bum, I would still be allowed to live," Sasha says glaring at him. "Plus, your parents are well off too."

"Yeah, but not as well off as yours," Mason retaliates.

"Well, anything is possible with power and money," I say and shrug my shoulders. Sasha rolls her eyes.

We arrive at Mason's apartment building and go inside. "Good afternoon," the receptionist tells us smiling as we head towards the elevator. We smile back and wait for the elevator to arrive. Once it does, we step inside and push the button that goes to the third floor.

"What's your project about anyways?" Sasha asks as the elevator dings and the doors open. We exit the elevator and turn left.

"You know I can't tell you anything until we get to my apartment," Mason says tilting his head towards Sasha.

"Why not?" Sasha asks. Mason and I look at each other than at her. "Why are y'a- . . . Oh wait, forgot. People could steal your project and stuff."

I laugh. "I swear you're slow sometimes. Makes me worried for the future of the country," I tell her shaking my head.

"Shut up," she says looking to the side. We stop in front of Mason's door, and he unlocks it.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Malcolm says and opens the door. We walk in and he locks it. We put our bags down and he leads us to an extra room by his bedroom. It has a keypad on it. "Turn around," he tells us while turning his finger in a circular motion.

"Why? Is there no trust in our relationship?" Sasha asks smiling.

"Of course. Just not when it comes to literal life or death. So, turn around," he tells us. We turn around and hear a few beeps behind us and a click. We turn back.

"Ok, are y'all ready to see a friggin' masterpiece?" he asks all excited.

"We'll be the judges of that," I say, smiling.

Sasha chuckles and says, "Yeah, don't toot your horn too much." He opens the door and turns on the light to reveal a . . . uhm.

In the back of the room there's a, . . . what I'm guessing, some type of face covering. "What exactly is that?" I ask.

"It's a mask that filters out the toxins in the air," Mason tells us with a smile.

"And when exactly would we use this?" Sasha asks.

"Well, we can't live in this dome for forever. We're going to need to venture out someday, so I made a mask and filters that can let you breathe the outside air for about a week before the filters have to be replaced," Mason says, beaming with excitement.

"Yeah, but why would we ever go outside the dome?" Sasha asks.

"Well, we might run out of resources someday, or there could be people outside. It's been a literal eighty years since we've been outside. It's 2105. We have to go out one day, and this will be the start," Mason says with determination.

"I like it. My project actually has the same concept, but instead, it's gonna be used to travel the outside world," I say dreamily, while Sasha looks at us with uneasiness.

"You guys know we can't go outside," Sasha says with a sense of urgency.

"But why not?" Mason asks her a little peeved.

"Look . . ." she looks to the side. "Have you ever wondered why you've never heard of anyone trying to make it outside?" she says with frustration.

"No, which is why we'll be the first," Mason tells her.

"You won't be the first. You will be one of many. And soon . . . dead," she says with a scared look in her eyes. Mason and I look at each other, confused.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I . . .," a look of realization comes across her face. She goes to the main room and hurriedly gets her stuff. "Just destroy it. Immediately. You too, Xander. Find something new," she opens the door with her bag in her arms. She looks back. "I can give you some connections. I have to go," she says and leaves, slamming the door behind her. Mason and I stand there dumbfounded. Thirty seconds pass before I decide to break the silence.

"Umm . . . so what are you gonna do?" I ask Mason.

"I-I don't know. I mean, her warning sounded pretty urgent, but I've been working on this for practically my whole life. I don't think I'm ready to make a decision. How about you?" he asks me.

"Uh, I'ma have to think about it too," I say uneasily. "Anyways, I think I should head back home. Stay safe I guess," I say and give him a little salute goodbye. I grab my stuff and head out the door.

"Yeah, you too," he says rubbing the back of his neck. I walk out and close the door behind me. What exactly is going on here? I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh. I go to the elevator, wait for it to come up, and enter.

*Half an hour later*

I unlock the door and enter into my living room. I throw my backpack onto the couch, get a nutri-bar from the counter, and head into the makeshift workshop. Once inside, I pull back the curtain to reveal my beautiful creation. Mechanical wings. Sixty-four archtylt feathers. One of the most sturdy and light metals you can make. Inside the "bones" of the wings are engines and fuels that shoot out seventy kilograms of downward thrust. I smile every time I see it. This . . . this is what will get us out of this dome and into the world . . . or what will get me killed. I sit down in my chair and just stare at the wings that have been the last eight years of my life. I can't just give it up. I won't give it up, no matter what comes my way. I look in the mirror with determination and get back to work late into the night.