August 19, 2132 — Current World Calendar
It had been more than a century since the Fourth World War—only three or four years after the Third.
No one truly knew why or how, but in the aftermath of that devastating conflict, the surviving nations made a decision that shocked the masses.
They called it the No Lethal Weapons Act—the NLWA. The final war had brought far more destruction than expected, so explosives and other high-grade weaponry were outlawed. Well… all except firearms. Pistols, rifles, and other small arms were still in use by uniformed personnels. The hypocrisy was obvious, but governments justified it as "necessary to maintain order."
---
"Haaaaah… morning already? Why?" A youth, about seventeen or eighteen, groaned on the verge of tears as he forced himself out of bed to prepare for work.
His name was Sam.
Sam had lost his parents in an accident at the age of eight and was raised in an orphanage. A year ago, once he was deemed old enough to survive on his own, he left. Since then, life had been a daily struggle just to make ends meet.
If someone were to ask how he felt about it, his reply would be: "It's so frickin' great," muttered through gritted teeth.
With a sigh, Sam glanced around his cramped one-room apartment. A small electric cooker occupied the corner, with a freezer on the opposite wall. A narrow bookshelf stood nearby, stacked with a few worn volumes. Beside his bed sat a table, a lamp, and more books, just under the window. Of course, there was also a tiny bathroom attached.
"I'll need groceries for the month," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It's already 7 a.m. The shop opens in an hour… guess I better get ready. Tsk."
---
If people had been asked a century earlier what the world of the future would look like, most would have answered with images of flying cars, colonies on Mars, and wonders of space. Reality turned out far different.
Science and technology had indeed advanced, primarily in medicine and surgery. Almost everything now ran on electricity; crude oil and petroleum had become nearly obsolete. Trains and other transportation methods were faster and safer. Plane crashes were rare. Entertainment and gaming had also leapt forward.
And yet, despite medical progress, most people still died before reaching eighty. Some blamed synthetic food, claiming it weakened the body and raised mortality rates. Others pointed to the ever-present issue of gangs.
---
An Hour Later
Sam entered Sunny Mart, the convenience store where he worked as a cashier. In this age, such jobs were technically unnecessary—automation could handle it all—but people still preferred human interaction. So cashiers remained.
As he walked in, he spotted his friend Pete—a tall, light-skinned young man about his age, standing a solid six feet with a body that clearly showed hours at the gym.
"Lucky bastard," Sam muttered under his breath.
Pete was smiling and chatting with a young woman who was clearly flirting with him. The sight made Sam grind his teeth in envy.
A few minutes later, once Pete was free, he greeted him.
"What's up, bro?" Pete asked with his usual easy grin.
"Just the usual," Sam replied curtly, scanning items for a customer.
"You catch the game last night? I told you the Noble Warriors were gonna win. Too bad I didn't place a bet on them." Pete sighed, imagining the money he could have made.
"Yeah, right," Sam scoffed. "You and I both know if you had bet on them, they'd have lost miserably."
"C'mon, man," Pete whined in mock despair. "You're the last person I expected to hear that from. At least have some faith in your bro."
******