Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 401

I stare blankly at the yellowed, tattered page, the words boring a hole in my head. It’s been 200 years since this diary
entry was written, and I’m shocked at the realism of my ancestor’s words. Since 1927, Shanghai has faced an abundance of
terrible events—the Japanese occupation, Shanghai becoming an independent nation, the bombing that triggered World War III,
the execution of General Li, who lead to the Allies’ defeat in said war... Due to the aftermath of World War III, in which
Shanghai was scorned and publicly humiliated, the president banned any immigration or emigration and built walls surrounding
the country borders, enclosing us in the country and annihilating our freedom. It’s a wonder how we do everything
independently without any outside help, and that we have enough resources. Banning outside contact also meant removing
almost all forms of communication through technology and transport, and even things like aeroplanes are dreadfully unfamiliar.
To us, the outside world is so unexplored, so exciting, so unrealistic. It’s strange knowing that the confined world you live in is
actually a small part of an even bigger world, one without rules and laws dictating your every move. I guess the metropolitans
haven’t changed much these 200 years, since most of them drown themselves in alcohol once work hours are over, Smoking
Tubes are passed around, polluting the air with the foul smell of the smoke and dyeing the air grey. Tobacco was bad enough, but
the chemicals in the Tubes could kill in a heartbeat when excessively inhaled. People bustle in and out of the giant glass casino,
betting huge sums of money every time without a care, and security droid cameras hover around, making sure the laws were
always abided by.
I don’t want to live in this endless world of strict rules and enforcement, and lay on my deathbed regretting not fighting
for freedom, for what we deserve. I long to watch an aeroplane take off, to travel and see every corner of the world with my own
eyes, to live life at its fullest—but not now, not when we’re trapped in this confining, remote nation. The wind rustles, flipping
the pages of Ling’s diary, breaking my train of thoughts. On the last page, there was a quote written down in beautiful calligraphy:
“ I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery –Thomas Jefferson ” That seems fitting to this current situation, although
‘peaceful slavery’ would be quite an understatement. I don’t want to follow the government’s authoritarian laws like a robot
regarding what women in society should do. I don’t want to live with the rules stopping me from achieving my dreams and goals
in life. I’m seventeen years old now, and I’ve spent years studying in secret to pursue my dream of being a paediatrician, and I
can’t afford to have a law stopping me and other young people with dreams.
That’s why I’m going to fight for my freedom and to stop laws from shaping out our lives before we were even born.
My lips curl into a smile as I picture the mayor’s disbelieving face when we rebel. I hop off the stone I’ve been perching on since
Curfew, which is eight o’ clock at night. My flashlight flickers, illuminating the road to camp. I slowly crouch down, dodge the
security droid cameras and head towards an old, worn down building. Tentatively, I brush my fingers across the handle of the
battered wooden door, and softly rap the wood four times. The door creaks open, and I’m welcomed by my friend, Fei. “Are you
ready?” she asks, her eyes shimmering with excitement. I step inside the dimly lit hallway as Fei goes to the supply closet and
pulls out a green backpack full of emergency supplies and food. “Emergencies only,” she reminds me in a singsong voice. I can
feel her confidence radiating out from her. She must be positive that tonight’s events would go well.
“Lee’s managed to get a microphone, and if everything goes well, every speaker in Shanghai would be able to hear you.
He’s in the storeroom, wiring up the gears.”
I smile. “The others?”
Fei beams back at me. “Armed and ready.” “Good,” I say, reaching out to take my bow and quiver from the wall. My
heart’s hammering wildly, and I pray that everything will be all right.