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I stopped and stretched my aching arms, leaving the hammer hanging on a fence post. It was a mild Washington day, with the thermometer only rising to about 79 degrees. I had been panting in the sun for nearly an hour hammering wood patches onto my house, a run-down thing. The walls were patched everywhere, as was the roof. I picked up my hammer and resumed trying to slam the nail into the cracked wall, not having a power drill to make things easier. I turned around for my water bottle... and saw it was gone. I cursed under my breath and started looking around the yard for it, before I heard a suppressed giggle. I looked up into one of the dead trees and saw my friend, Mike, sitting in the crook of it. He held my mostly-empty bottle in his right hand. I sighed. "Mike, really?" Mike nodded, and threw my bottle a good distance away. It landed near the sidewalk. "You work all the time, you need to stop every once in a while." I shook my head. "I've told you, Mike, I can't right now. I live in a house, and my family needs me. My sister acts 'properly', as they say it, and with the two-child law there's no hope of my workload ever clearing." The raccoon rolled over and swung himself under the branch.

"You should come live with me, on the streets. It's fun." He seemed to be utterly hopeless. "I don't want to be arrested for vagrancy, and I quite like my family." Mike's head cocked. "What's vag-... v..." I stopped him. "Vagrancy, it's being arrested for being homeless." Mike's head cocked to the other side. "I am not homeless, the city is my home." I looked down at my bare feet, the yellow, dead grass poking up around them. I looked back up. "I gotta get the wall patched, Mike. You should leave, the Enforcer comes around here soon." Mike dropped from the tree, landing effortlessly. "Okay." He scampered off down the street. I watched him go, his ragged clothes swaying in the wind. I turned and went to retrieve my water bottle. I sipped it, knowing it was my last one. I was allotted two a day. I looked around the neighborhood. The trash collector, Gemm, was stabbing garbage and depositing it in his bag. Two young cubs played in a yard in front of what looked like a hut. An old fox sat on his ramshackle porch, watching our little street. Gemm saw me, his tired, sad face rising from it's usual downward angle to look at me with dull eyes. His eyes were strange, one was silver and one was gold. I imagined that at one time they shined like silver and gold, but that time had long gone. He was a sad thing now, his fur dull and unkempt, his eyes dull and empty. He came from a time before the Coalition, before the New Constitution, and it seemed to affect him greatly. I was born four years after the Coalition was seated, so I had no idea what made him so sad. The leopard waved at me, then went back to his work. I waved back, then turned and strolled the short distance to my house. I resumed the patching, barely looking up as the Enforcer walked past. The Enforcers were the police, clad in full-body armor made of composites high above my understanding. He walked with a stun rifle in his hands, swaggering down the sidewalk, his boots thudding. Gemm smiled his dull smile, saying, "Good afternoon, officer.", as the Enforcer walked past him.

The Enforcer barely even nodded to him as he continued down the sidewalk, never really paying attention to anyone. I finally got the nail in. I stepped back, and looked over the work. It would keep most of the wind out, and keep the rain out, mostly. I looked up at the sun. I had a couple of hours of daylight left. I had to figure out what to do with those. The radio played propaganda over and over, plus the music that wasn't banned, and my sister was too busy gossiping with my mother. I had already watered the garden. My dad was probably looking out the back door, watching nothing. I stuck my paws in my pockets and walked into the woods. I enjoyed just walking about out here, looking around at the trees... there was no wildlife, it was all either extinct or in the zoos. The foliage wasn't too nice either, actually, the trees were a bit thin because of pollution and over-cutting. The Coalition didn't care, though. This was the one place that I felt safe even thinking against the Coalition, without a team of agents coming in the night and sweeping me away. I kicked a pine cone, watching it bounce off a tree. My feet crunched through the thin layer of leaves that covered the ground, and soon I was just wandering aimlessly, thinking to myself and humming quietly.

I heard a soft thud behind me, and whirled around to confront whoever had snuck up on me. It was my friend Rachael. She smiled. "Wow, you are deaf, aren't you?" I hissed at her. "Why do you need to sneak up on me? Are you a Watcher or something?" She slugged me on my shoulder. "Not in a hundred years." Rachael, a cougar, lived in the woods in a small log cabin built around a giant old oak. She was lean and athletic, and acted oddly masculine for being a female. "So, what've you been up to?" I shook my head as she leaned against the tree she had just leaped from. "Holding my house together, keeping my head down, the usual thing for summer." I glanced around at the trees, almost expecting someone in a ghillie suit to be peering at me through a pair of binoculars. "Talked to Old Man Gemm recently?" I made a small "nah" noise. "My mom doesn't like me hanging with him much, she says he will get me in trouble. If anything, he will keep me out of trouble. All he ever does is wander about and clean the litter... also, he is not old! He is 32!" She chuckled, shifting, her tail twitching lazily. "Comparatively old." I grinned as I said, "Hm, I am surprised you knew how to say such a big word." She hissed and lightly smacked me with one of her paws. "Shut up." My grin grew as I shot back, "Oh, I am sorry, do you need a hug?" She hissed and charged, and I ran off. We chased each other through the woods, crunching leaf litter and dodging about trees. I looked back over my shoulder and saw that she was slowing down, my cheetah speed giving me an advantage. I started laughing, then turned and saw a tree branch. I couldn't stop in time, and managed to smack my face. I fell backwards onto the ground, groaning. She stooped over me, panting. "You... alright?" I nodded, and she extended a paw. I grabbed it and hauled myself up, dusting off my pants. "How do I look?" She inspected my face for a moment. "Not much uglier than usual, just a few scratches." I sighed, and looked up at the sun through the trees. "I'd best get back, I think my dinner is nearly ready. She nodded. "Alright, I'll be seeing you around, then." I smiled and waved as she turned and departed.

***

I was right. When I got back to my house, my mother was worrying about me. "Oh, look at you! You can't afford to be getting so dirty, with the water rations as they are! Your dinner is getting cold, we will worry about cleaning you up after dinner." I was hurried inside and sat at the dinner table. There was a tiny amount of meat, probably some poor varmint that got in range of my dad's slingshot, a small amount of corn, and a biscuit. My mother sat down on the other side of the square table and began saying grace. As was required, we were pious believers of Coalition Standard, the set religion of the United Coalition of Countries. I never really got into it, but I pretended to be adoring god as I said the prayer along with my family. After I got that nonsense out of the way, I immediately dug into the corn. I wanted to save the meat for last... it was not common there was meat, not anymore. For a cheetah like me, that was terrible. I could tell that my mother wanted to ask me something a she watched me eat. "Where did you go for an hour, Jack? You never told me... and what about those scratches?"

I swallowed and started, "Oh, I went for a bit of a stroll in the forest, and hung out with Rachael for a bit. We chased each other through the forest... I, ah, wasn't looking forward." My sister and my mother shared an uncannily timed look of distaste. My sister, having to get her opinion forward, said in her over-the-top snobbish accent, "You shouldn't be anywhere near that Rachael girl, she is an uncultured hick." My mother gave her an obviously phony look of disapproval. "Don't speak like that, Mary." Both my mother and my sister followed the status quo of constantly wearing dresses and acting infuriatingly above everyone, as they were now. I had no idea where they got those dresses, since the shirts I had were barely more than rags, and my jeans were faded to darn near white and full of holes. My dad's wardrobe was in a similarly poor state, but he never said anything. "Though, I do question your friend choices. That Mike fellow... he is street scrap, he is nothing but trouble. Going back to this Rachael girl, she acts like anything but a lady. You don't need that kind of influence." I sighed. "Mike is not simply street scrap, his family died when their Chevy exploded, you know that. His position is a product of bad luck, not his wrongdoing. Also, Rachael is not an 'uncultured hick', she is actually quite intelligent." My sister piped in again. "Oh, by the way, when will you find someone to love? You have never shown interest in any suitable female." My mother nodded her head. "Perhaps you are right, Mary." I shook my head. "Look, I am not sick in the head, I have just never been interested in females... or males, Mary." Mary was giving me a rather suspicious look, so I had to shoot down yet another false notion. I finished the meat and set my fork down. "May I be excused, mother?" Still with a disdainful face, she nodded. My father just kept his face down, staring into his plate as he slowly ate. I placed my plate in the long-dry sink and walked to my room. I had nothing but a raggedy old mattress on the dirty floor and some threadbare sheets. I gently swung my door to what counted as the shut position and laid down on the mattress, after undressing. I pulled the sheets over my naked body and fitfully slept through the night.

***

I awoke with the sun, 6:00 AM according to the clock in the living room. I quickly gathered my clothes, a pair of shorts with patches everywhere and a white T-shirt in a similar state, and made my way quietly to the bathroom. I threw my clothes onto the floor, and stepped into the shower. The shower was just a pipe sticking out of the wall, and the drain somehow still worked. I finished showering, without any soap of course, and dried myself off. I ran my dry brush over my teeth, then stepped into the living room clothed. I sat in a chair and turned on the radio quietly. The usual propaganda and fake news, plus the phony music that was played to glorify the government. I kicked around the house for a bit, watching the Enforcer outside. The curfew lifted at 7:00 AM, and it wasn't even close to that yet. I almost paced a hole into the floor before my family began to rise. By 6:50, we were eating breakfast with the radio playing softly in the background. Then, there was a burst of static, and an unusual voice came on. "Do not adjust your sets, this is an important message. The government, the coalition, as you know them, are your protectors, yes? The ones who keep you safe in your shacks at night, the ones who force you into the shadows? The ones who oppress your every move, the ones who define what you can say? Deep down, I know that you all are unhappy. We used to be able to say what we wanted, worship what we wanted, even do what we wanted. Now, we are caged. We are not meant to be caged. We must go back to the old way, of liberty, of privacy, of FREEDOM. How can we do this? Simple. Shout, shout loud and clear, and shout with others. Don't go down without a fight. We can change our world, we can..."

Another burst of static, and a panicked radio announcer was desperately denying the other's claims. I heard my father mutter, "Third time this week..." I looked at my mother. "It was nothing, dear. Those are silly things, we are much better without them. There was so much violence, so much war... now, we are all happy, and living together, in peace." I could see that her smile was forced. I finished my breakfast, and looked at the clock. The curfew was lifted. She already knew what I was going to ask. "Yes, you are excused. Don't go getting into any trouble now, alright?" I nodded and ran out the door. Before I could get out, I heard my mother call after me, "Wait! Go pick up our bottled water rations too." I sighed, swallowing my frustration, and turned around. I quickly slung my tattered bookbag over my shoulder and began the walk to the Downtown area.

***

As I got nearer and nearer the more densely packed areas, there was more car traffic and more people on the sidewalk in general. The Coalition Ration Office was a rather nondescript brick building built into a row of run-down shops... but there was something odd. A crowd of people were surrounding the front of the building, shouting a chant. I saw why as I got closer to the building. "WATER RATION C CARDS ARE NOW ONE BOTTLE/PERSON" I was frustrated but it was better than nothing. I shouldered my way through the crowd, trying to draw as little attention as possible. I made it to the front of the ring, and there were barricades and Enforcers blocking the way. One of the officers held up a paw as I approached, stopping me a few feet from the barricade. He was dressed in the usual full-body armor, not one inch of fur or skin visible. "Stop, citizen." I stopped, obediently. He stared at me, probably analyzing my irises to run a background check on me. It was just a rumor as to whether they could actually do that, but I just stood there and waited. "What are the contents of that container?" I showed him the open top. "It is empty, Officer." I had dealt with this before. He stared for another few seconds. Enforcers did a lot of staring, but again, the capabilities of their matte white helmets was unknown. For all I knew he was bombarding me with some strange particle to scan me for any explosives or guns. Finally, he asked another question. "What is the purpose of your visit?" I wondered, as I had dozens of times before, if it was an actual animal under that suit. "I am here to collect my family's water ration." Another long, awkward pause. He gestured with his stun rifle. "Proceed, citizen." I quietly stepped under the barricade and walked the short distance to the door. I pushed it open, entering the sterile white environment.

The feeling of air-conditioned air was almost alien to me, and the electric lighting made me squint. I walked up to the counter at the back. This officer was not an Enforcer, he was not fully clad in armor, but the opossum was definitely wearing some sort of vest on top of his gray shirt. This was usual, though I had no idea what they were worried about. Any weapon above a child's air rifle was explicitly banned. I waited until he looked up from his terminal. He asked in a dragging, melancholic monotone, "What is your business here, citizen?" I repeated what I had told the Enforcer. "I am here to collect my family's water ration." He picked up a small device and placed it on the counter. "Place your right index finger on the white portion, citizen." I did as he requested. A few moments later, he looked up from his terminal. "Remove your finger." He asked if my family possessed a class C ration card, he asked me if my name was Jack Rewas, and finally he asked if there were 4 citizens in my household. Of course, he knew all of this from my fingerprint and his terminal, but they asked anyways. I replied to all of his inquiries with a simple, "Yes, sir." He stooped over in his chair, leaning to the side, and began placing plain plastic water bottles one at a time on the counter. I just watched him, knowing there were at least two cameras with a crystal clear picture of my face and a computer which never miscounted. I waited until he was watching me as I began dropping the bottles in my bag. When the last one disappeared, he ran over the normal dialogue. "You may not collect another ration for 12 hours, citizen. Have a nice day." I muttered back, "You as well," as I turned and left. I was nearly to the barricade when something happened. An older fox was arguing heatedly with the Enforcer, when a coyote, no more than 12 years old, tried to charge past the barricade whilst the guard was distracted. Another Enforcer, standing a little ways back, suddenly snapped to attention and shot the coyote with his stun rife at nearly point blank range, obviously panicking.

The world seemed to go into a slow-motion mode then. The Enforcer who was arguing with the fox turned and looked at the sound of the rifle's loud, zapping report. The cub lay on the ground, smoke rising from the burned spot on his body, dead. The Enforcer's rifle was set to a power level that would knock an enraged adult unconscious at several feet. At point blank range, a child stood no chance. The Enforcer who had done the deed lowered his rifle slowly, and looked back at the crowd, as did I and the other Enforcers. A third Enforcer reached down for his stun pistol. They had all fallen silent. They were all staring. I started stepping to the side, but they charged before I could move out of the way. The Enforcers immediately raised their rifles and opened fire, knocking down several, but the mob was of an overwhelming size. I dove against a wall, watching as the mob devoured the three Enforcers, pummeling and trampling them, tearing their armor off. The windows were smashed and the door was blown open, and soon I realized I was watching a full-blown riot break out. I stood up and ran down the sidewalk, hearing sirens blaring in the distance in one direction and shouts in the other. I didn't look back. I just ran, ran from the fire of rebellion, ran from the thing that should not be. I had no other goal in the world other than to get home, to get to safety, as fast as possible. I got to my house, panting, throwing my bag off and collapsing on the floor, exhausted, in front of the door.. My mother looked at me from her armchair, shocked. "What... what happened, son?" I rolled over, still panting.

"Riot... rebellion... I think... the enforcers died..." My mother said something to my sister, who brought over a damp rag. My mom dabbed at my forehead gently as I regained my breath. My dad rolled in on his wobbly wheelchair, a curious look on his face. "What the hell happened?" I sat up, still breathing heavily."A riot started, the... the water rations were reduced. One of the enforcers... he accidentally shot a child too close, he died... then the mob attacked... and I ran. i just ran... I don't know.. what's..." My mom looked up as two Enforcer APCs raced past, sirens buzzing. She shook her head. "Calm down, and rest. We'll figure this out later, see what it means for us." I nodded, laying back down. It started sinking in when I heard an explosion in the distance. This was no riot. This was a revolution. Then, another explosion happened, far closer to us. I stood up, shakily, and looked out the window. One of the APCs was on it's side, wheels still spinning uselessly. The other APC stopped just in time to avoid ramming the first, and soon the back hatch fell open and Enforcers stormed out. These ones had serious hardware, not the standard stun rifles. No, these rifles looked like they could kill someone without hesitation. I gasped as bullets whizzed from the surrounding trees. A machine gun, mounted on top of the surviving APC, swiveled and opened fire. Soon, the gunfire from the trees fell silent. Several Enforcers lay dead.

My mother grabbed me and pulled me aside. I looked at her, and for the first time I saw genuine emotion from her. She was scared. The entire word had been set alight, and it had all happened before noon. There was a knock on the door, then it blew open. Literally blew open, with a bang. My sister screamed as the piece of sheet metal flew inwards, and three Enforcers stormed in. My flight or fight instinct took over, and I dove out the window. I don't even know how I managed to vault over the sill, but I did, running for my life for the second time that night. Gemm was watching from his front door, motioning to me. I ran across the street, hoping the dazed enforcers crawling from the nearby APC didn't notice me, and dashed into Gemm's small house. He shut the door behind me, looking through a slitted blind. A helicopter was patrolling overhead, and several patrol cars had arrived. I had to give it to them, the Enforcers could respond fast. Gemm let the blinds fall shut again, then he turned to me. He inspected me for a minute, then looked away to a nearby wall. He sighed. "Your life has changed, Jack, whether you like it or not. Come, I need to show you something." He walked across his small living room to the kitchen. I followed as instructed. He crouched down and threw a rug aside. A trap door, well disguised, was cut into the floor. Gemm did a seemingly random finger tap on it's surface, and with a hiss, it swung open.