Third Place: A Journal Named Takilla
Journal Entry, 3/27/2116, 7:30 A.M.
Dear Takilla,
I’m five minutes into my transport to school, and so far I’ve been teased three times. I’m sorry that I have to hide you. The other kids wouldn’t understand having a journal, much less naming it. Most have electronics, but we won’t have money to spare on those until Dad can find a better job. These days being a doctor or a police officer is the only thing that pays well, but it’s so hard to get those jobs because robots usually do them. Being short on money is the main reason I get teased, next to how I look. Mom says that I look fine and shouldn’t worry about that, but most kids tease me. If we had more money, then I could probably get my hair styled by one of the hairstyling robots instead of Marley our housemaid robot. I just don’t understand why nobody will give Dad a job. Doesn’t anybody understand? I even tried to talk to Mom about it but she said that money isn’t everything and that I should stop thinking about myself and be thankful there is a roof over my head. Either she doesn’t understand or she needs reassurance herself. The bell just rang I have to get to class. I won’t get to log in again until tonight.
3/27/2116, 8:34 P.M.
My school is actually not that small. About 200 of the average 600 kids homeschool using their mini-pods (electronics), and I would love to homeschool but, again, we don’t have the money to spare on an $8,000 mini-pod. Ughhhhhh! That, if you ask me, is one of only two ways my life could get better. The other being we move out of town. Yeah, that’s never going to happen. It’s too much to ask for. For now, I just need to log, read books, and find someone who has enough sense not to make fun of me. I’ve tried talking to Dad. He was a little more sympathetic than Mom. He said he remembers what it’s like to be a kid, and some things never change. Mom says lights out, so I’ll log again tomorrow.
3/28/2116, 7:45 P.M.
Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry that I couldn’t log sooner! The owner of a hospital in Louisiana sent Dad a holo-pad, which since we’re not used to the fancy stuff, took Dad a while to figure out. When we finally got it to work it said that the hospital had seen Dad’s online profile asking for a job, and they wanted Dad to send them a holo-pad saying why he should be hired instead of a robot. I was so nervous I couldn’t log. What if they don’t hire him? Did I mention that if we take the job we get to move all the way to Louisiana! This may be my chance to start over. Dad just sent his reply. He said that robots break all the time, but humans don’t so they should hire him. The reply got back immediately. That was fast. The technology is amazing! They said that he got the job!!! I have to celebrate. I’ll log again tomorrow.
3/29/2116, 8:38 P.M.
I haven’t logged all day because I’ve been packing. Apparently if Dad wants the job we have to move on 4/1/2116!!! We’ve been busting our tails off packing, finding a place to stay, and getting other things ready. Although we packed the boxes ourselves the hospital sent teleportation vehicles to teleport the boxes to our resort. With Dad’s promotion we don’t have to worry about money. I was really excited, but now I’m not so sure. What if the kids there don’t like me either, or they don’t like how I look so they tease me? I don’t think I can go through that again! What if I make a fool of myself and everyone laughs at me for the rest of the year? I’ll log again later. I have to go pack.
4/1/2116, 9:27 A.M.
We’re in Louisiana. We had to teleport to get here. Personally, I like to use the flying car, but Dad said this was faster. I start school tomorrow at a private school called Euphoria. I’m very excited but also nervous. Will I get teased or welcomed? This school is supposed to be for people like me who are deep thinkers and that’s really cool. It’s amazing here. There’s still grass here, which is unusual. Dad says I have to go unpack so I’ll log after school tomorrow.
4/2/2116, 6:32 P.M.
School was amazing! The best thing was that no one teased me! Another thing, most kids had journals too. I made two new friends, Thalia and Jacob, who also named their journals. It was so fun having friends and fitting in. That’s another thing, it was so cool how everybody was free to work in their own way. Everyone did things differently, but would come to the same conclusions. The school was cool, also. We had lockers with electronic keypads that tell you what class you have next, remind you of your homework, to study for the latest test and can only be activated by voice command and a passcode. Overall it’s amazing here and I’m really glad that we moved and dad got his job.
4//1/2117, 9:27 A.M.
It has been exactly one year since we moved to Louisiana, and that changed my life for the better. After we got settled in I made tons of friends. When I could have been the person who brought people apart by teasing and shutting people out, I decided to be one of the people who brought people together by standing up for them and including them. If you hadn’t been with me the whole time I never would have made it. Thank you, Takilla.
Tibby Brown just wrapped up fifth grade on the Louisiana bayou with a book in one hand and mosquito repellent in the other. She has the curliest head of hair and often compares herself to her curls, saying, “We both have a mind of our own.” Tibby is planted between three brothers, often playing and helping with the younger ones or singing with the older. She has fun creatively attempting CHALLENGES, playing soccer, and cooking. Her family loves making great food and music, conversation, and laughing together with occasional spontaneous dance parties. Tibby is delightful and caring.
Second Place: Extinction vs. Preservation—The Human Factor
We would all like to think of the future as a magnificent, wonderful place. Perhaps, as one with exciting and advanced technology that has advanced mankind, and allows for not only productivity, but a world without disease or pain. Unfortunately, that presumption is only partially correct. It is now the year 2116, and it is a horrible and treacherous world for those of us who have survived.
Decades ago, an accident occurred when an irresponsible scientist named Bill Fates and his team of techno-wizards developed a new invention. We know about him from the legends as the tech creator and CEO of Apple, and his legacy is far-reaching. But not all of it was for good, as history shows.
His invention was an all-inclusive robot dubbed the IBot, and its creation led society spiraling down a path of greed, corruption and dishonesty. Near the end of its completion, Fates discovered that his robot began to take on the characteristics of a human male. Every second, the machine became more life-like and eventually it took on a mind of its own.
My mother used to tell me of stories of how we were created… through God, and Adam and Eve. As the story of the IBot is told, Fate’s creation became a combination of both Adam and the serpent that tricked him in the garden.
Our historical scrolls show that Yates attempted to disarm and disassemble the robot, but the machine fought back. It became stronger, meaner. All of the negative characteristics that had befallen mankind through thousands of years were contained in some giant, metal machine that eventually learned how to multiply itself and take over the world.
I, Nathaniel Alexander, am the leader of Human Preservation against the IBots. Ever since the catastrophe occurred, our cities—and what’s left of our world—have been wrecked by machines that constantly threaten to bring us to extinction. I formed a group to step up and be the bravest amongst us. To fight for our freedom. We call ourselves the Preservationists, and though we are few in number, we are mighty in force. For behind our shields and our weapons, we have something that the machines will never have or understand… hope.
Originally, there were five leaders: myself, Sarah, Tim, Jonah, and Hex. Five who stepped up to lead an army in the hopes of causing total destruction against a technology that wanted to kill us all. We developed laser cannons, plasma guns, and night-drones. But when the darkness of the IBot leaders arose, they took out many of us; first, Sarah, then Hex, and then Tim and Jonah. I managed to escape; I was the only one. I had to find new members for the rebellion. I trained them and my team now is even stronger. Daily, we continue the fight.
“One, two, three, fire!” John shouted and we fired our laser cannons to disintegrate some of the machines.
“Nice shooting,” cried Isabel, throwing her arms in the air.
“Yeah! I think we deserve pizza tonight,” Mike said.
“Sure, why not,” I replied. “We deserve something, that’s for sure.”
As we walked through the ruined downtown, through the treacherous remains of our beloved city, we reminisced about battles already fought and battles yet to be won. At the pizza shop, the T.V. boomed loudly with disarming news about another attack on the other side of the city, at the old saw mill. Dozens of hostages were captured. No! Our numbers have dwindled again. I was weary.
We finished and headed to the old saw mill; everyone was scared. John and I hunted for the bots, while Isabel and Mike sought out the hostages. We had reached the door of the mill when Mike blurted out, “Are you sure about this, Nathaniel?” The fear in his eyes mirrored my own.
“Yes,” I exclaimed. “Let’s go. Fight, soldiers, but remember… Don’t get too close!”
We pushed open the doors, but nothing happened. We found the hostages, loosely locked up in the storage shed, but otherwise fine. Confused, I started to wonder if maybe this was a false alarm when suddenly the IBot came crashing through the wreckage. The hostages were being used as bait!
I yelled the rebel cheer just as it struck down Isabel. We all screamed. The hostages fled in fear. Mike jumped onto the Ibot and slashed at the machine but it launched him into the air. He fell to the ground, hundreds of feet away, unconscious. Then it was just John and I left, using all of our firepower against the beast made of technology. Trying to survive.
“This thing is indestructible,” John yelled before the IBot shot him with an electrical charge, knocking him unconscious.
It can’t be, my mind screamed back. The only one still standing, I continued to shoot in every direction in defense. As my lasers fired, I remembered how the robot had real, human characteristics. I knew that it thought it was superior to us all, and I yelled out, “You are not a Man! I am Man, and we will survive!”
My screams confused the robot and in its uncertainty, it became weak and vulnerable. That’s when I fired the winning shot. Whether it was through my will, or sheer luck, I don’t know, but that one shot blew the IBot into thin air. Its insides showered down upon me as I tried to shield myself from its metallic fallout.
I gathered up John and the hostages, and led them home. We rejoiced in our victory and celebrated long into the night. When I woke up the next day, still tired and sore in every fiber of my battered body, I looked in a mirror and something caught my eye. I looked different, somehow metallic.
When I peered closer, I saw that my skin glowed with an eerie, iridescent sheen.
“No!” I cried, picturing the thousands of pieces of the IBot that had fallen over me…
My name is Calum Klimavicz, and I am eleven years old. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia, then spent three years living in Kiev, Ukraine, and now live with my parents and my younger sister on Daniel Island, South Carolina. I enjoy playing sports—football, swimming, and tennis—as well as playing Xbox and swimming in our pool. I am going into the sixth grade next year and am looking forward to lots of summer camps before then.
First Place: New Climate, New Friends
Rachel Pierce strapped on her headset and attached the winding cord to the computer. She adjusted the helmet to a more comfortable position and twiddled her thumbs while the machine buffered, thinking about why the International Legislative Council collected memories. They weren’t stealing them–just duplicating them in files so that people in the future could learn about life in 2116 through memories recorded by people like Rachel.
It was voting time, and Rachel wondered whom the USA would elect as its next representative to the ILC. Her mother and father had already voted, and she wished she could. She had already tried taking the voter registration test, even though she knew it was futile. Her parents ranked very high on all subjects on the Beyond College tests, allowing them to have good jobs and an average amount of money, and even they hadn’t passed the test to vote until age 17. Rachel was only 12.
Her train of thought was broken by a repetitive beeping noise. Rachel leaned forward and clicked a purple icon. Now the computer was prepared to capture whatever memories would be made today, because today was a day worth recording.
Suddenly a loud voice came through the biocom that Rachel wore on her wrist. It was her mother, Charletta. “Honey, come down, the Martinez family will be here in a few minutes, and I want them to feel welcome.” Rachel knew why her mother wanted her to be hospitable. Kentuckians weren’t always kind to climate flooding refugees. Many still believed that climate change was everyone else’s fault and that refugees should be refused entry.
“Hurry up!” said her mother. “I want you to help their son Will settle in. He’s your age.”
Rachel grimaced. Her whole life had been lived with just her mother and father; she had no siblings, and her parents had lost a lot of friends lately. They were one of the first families in Kentucky to take in refugees, and the decision wasn’t exactly popular.
Rachel joined her parents downstairs, and they waited nervously. A moment later, they heard a rapping at the door. Charletta rushed to open it, revealing an exhausted family carrying luggage galore. Rachel counted four children: twin toddler girls, a tall teenage boy, and another boy around Rachel’s age, whom she assumed was Will. He smiled at her nervously, and she smiled back.
Rachel helped the family settle in, engaging in awkward chit-chat. At her mother’s urging, she asked Will if he wanted to take a tour around town, and he replied quietly that he would like that. They left the house and walked a short distance to Danville’s airtrans rental station. The two children scanned their biocoms, and Rachel let Will pick out the airtrans. He chose a beauty with red wings, and they buckled themselves in. “612 Main Street,” commanded Rachel.
“Where is that?” Will asked.
“It’s my grandparents’ house,” said Rachel. “You’ll like them.” She checked her biocom house status app to make sure Abba and Bonti were there, and sure enough, they were home. There wasn’t much air traffic, and soon their airtrans was hovering directly above the house. “We’re here,” Rachel smiled. “Down,” she said to the airtrans, and they slowly descended landward. When they reached the ground, they walked straight to the door and scanned their biocoms. When the door identified Will as a stranger, Rachel countered it with a message from her biocom, programming Will as a welcome acquaintance.
She stepped into the quaint, medium-sized house with Will following close behind. “Abba! Bonti!” she called out. “Will’s here!” A man and a woman came into the parlor where Rachel and Will had just sat down. Abba said a tight, strained hello, and Bonti asked Will in a cold voice if he’d like anything to drink.
Rachel looked at both of her grandparents and wondered if they were ill. Had something happened? Meanwhile, Will stared at his feet. After a few awkward minutes, Rachel made an excuse to leave. Will gave her a grateful look.
They said goodbye to her grandparents, who hugged her and nodded coldly to Will. The two children returned to their airtrans and hopped on. Rachel noticed tears shimmering in Will’s eyes, and she commanded the airtrans to take them to the nature preserve, one of the last places in the USA home to endangered native species. They got out in a quiet spot in a grove of flowers.
Rachel breathed in the fresh smell of wildlife. It was a refreshing change to the smog she normally breathed. Will seemed to enjoy it, too. Rachel asked him if there was something he wanted to talk about, and he shook his head, but she persisted. Finally he burst out, “Just leave me alone, all right?” Rachel jerked back, her heart beating quickly.
“I’m sorry,” said Will. It’s just . . .” He started to spill out everything that had happened, how his family had been hoping for years that climate flooding would slow, but the floods had kept coming, the water kept rising. They had saved and planned for months to be able to leave Miami, but as they travelled to Kentucky, no one was friendly to them. People spit at their feet and tried to steal their biocoms. Will missed everything about his former life, but most of all he missed the soccer team he had been on.
Rachel listened attentively, and an idea popped into her head. She grabbed Will’s arm and led him to the airtrans. “Admirals Ballpark,” she said, and the airtrans sped away. They reached the ballpark just in time, and Rachel put the fee on her biocom—she would tell her mother later. They found seats and cheered as the Admirals baseball team hit the holographic ball for a home run. “It’s not exactly soccer, but it’s fun,” said Rachel. Will’s eyes were bright with excitement, and Rachel thought maybe, just maybe, things would be all right.
Ramona Pierce is a fifth grade student at Edna L. Toliver Elementary School. She was born in Iran and lived in Boston and Chicago before settling in Danville, Kentucky, at the age of seven. She enjoys reading, writing, and competing with her school’s academic team. She also likes gardening, cooking, playing soccer, and running on the Danville Admirals cross country team. She dreams of taking a backpacking trip across Europe and enjoys learning about people of different places and cultures.