This is a story I wrote in 1998. It is also the origin of the name Acidexia. This is the first dystopian story I ever authored. No words have been changed.
The Wrong Section
It was Sydney’s first day of high school. She walked into her classroom and saw a bunch of kids scattered into three different groups. She sat down at a desk in the first one. About a minute later, she heard a voice. “You can’t sit here,” it said. Sydney turned around and realized that the voice belonged to a girl with about 50 piercings and tattoos. “You’re in the wrong section,” the girl told her. “Can’t you read? This is the piercings and tattoos section. You don’t belong here.” “Huh?” Read that sign up there. The sign by the clock.”
Sydney looked at the wall to the left of her. Below the clock there was a sign that read: “seats in this section are reserved for students with 45 or more piercings and tattoos.” Sydney had only 4 piercings and 1 tattoo. It was obvious to everyone that she was sitting in the wrong section. She picked herself out of her seat, and moved to the other side of the classroom.
This was in the year 2010. The year when the age requirement for entering high school had dropped a few years. You no longer needed to be 14 to attened. You only had to be 9. Sydney had just turned 9. She took a seat at a new desk. “How many times have you done Acidex?” a girl asked her. “Six,” Sydney replied. Acidex was a drug that had been invented a couple of years ago. It was a liquid form of LSD and Ecstasty combined. Sydney had only done it six times. If you had done it under ten times you were considered a “mini hun.”
“Mini hun” was a derogatory term used to describe kidagers who tried to rebel against other kidagers. Almost all kidagers had done Acidex at least ten times. If you hadn’t you were thought of as a kidager who tried too hard to be different. In other words, a mini hun.
The girl gasped. “Six? You’ve only done Acidex six times?!?” Ashamed, Sydney nodded. “Then you can’t sit here you… you mini hun. You’re in the wrong section. Go away.” Sydney quickly got up from her seat. She looked to her left. Sure enough, there was a sign that said “seats in this section are reserved for students who have done Acidex 45 times or more.”
Sydney saw that there was only one section left. She made her way over to it. Surly she’d be able to sit there. But as soon as she sat down, a boy informed her that she was in the wrong section. “This is the outcast section,” he said. “You have piercings and a tattoo, so you can’t sit here.” Sydney sighed. On her left was a sign reading: “seats in this section are reserved for the unfortunate and pathetic students who have no piercings or tattoos, and have never done Acidex.” She noticed that there were very few kids in this section.
It was right about then that Sydney began to get angry. “Then where do I sit?” she practically screamed. “Where in the world do I sit?” “On the floor,” the teacher told her. I would let you sit in a section, but I would be violating school rules.”
Sydney took a seat on the floor. The teacher, a girl of about 17, was getting ready to give a lecture. “Today we will be discussing the history of raves,” the teacher said. One of the kids in the outcast section groaned. “That’s all we ever talk about,” he said. “I’m sick of talking about raves. We talk about them every day.” The teacher ignored him. Outcasts were always ignored.
The teacher began her lecture. “I started going to raves about ten years ago, when I was only 7 years old. That’s way back in the year 2000. Most of you weren’t even born yet.” The teacher went on and on about the history of raves. About how they had changed so much in the last ten years. About their growing popularity. About how it used to be that raves were only held occasionally, and how now it was required by law to have them held at least once a day. For if raves weren’t held, what would kidagers and teenagers do for fun? There would be no means of entertainment for them. No place for them to express themselves. No place for them to be themselves! It would be tragic. It would make their lives miserable.
When the teacher was finished with her lecture, she asked if anyone had any questions or comments. A girl from the tattoos and piercings section raised her had. “I think that’s terrible and stuff,” she said. “I mean that stuff you said about how raves weren’t held very often. That must have been really hard for my parents to deal with back in the old days and everything. I feel bad for them and stuff.”
A boy from the tattoos and piercings section raised his hand to ask the teacher if she had been to the rave last night. The one held at the movies. The teacher told him that this was irrelevant to their discussion. “We’re talking about the history of raves, she sad. “Not current raves. That was yesterday’s discussion.
A boy from the Acidex section asked the teacher why the sky had clouds in it. “They seem weird,” he said. “Like they should be a part of the trees. You know?” A girl from the Acidex section asked why paper was rectangle shaped. “Like why isn’t it circle shaped?” she asked. “Or octagon shaped?” The teacher frowned. “You guys are nine and ten years old. I would think you’d know that some questions can’t be answered. It’s like the chicken and egg question. What comes first, the chicken or the egg? Nobody knows.”
“Hmm,” said a boy from the Acidex section. “What does come first? Chicken or egg? Egg or chicken? Chicken or egg? Egg or chicken?” The girl who had previously asked the question about the paper reached over to hug him. “I love you,” she told him. I love you more than I love the chicken.”
A girl from the outcast section raised her hand. The teacher didn’t acknowledge her. “That girl has her hand raised,” Sydney blurted out. Why don’t you call on her?” “Because she’s an outcast,” the teacher replied. “Acknowledging an outcast is a huge violation of school rules. I could lose my job for doing that.”
Suddenly Syndey let out a piercing scream. She had had enough of this high school nonsense. Several of the kids gasped. “What’s wrong with her?” someone whispered. “Are you ok?” the teacher asked Sydney. “No! No, I’m not ok! This is screwed up. High school is screwed up. This whole… world is screwed up. What has it turned into?” She stormed out of her classroom, and out of her high school. Finally, out of the mall that her high school was located in.
When Sydney got home she began crying to her mom. “I hate high school,” she told her. “There’s something wrong with the kids there. There’s something wrong with the teachers too. It’s really weird. ” Her mom frowned. “It’s ok Syd. In three more years you’ll graduate. You’ll be twelve. You’ll be a big girl. You’ll be able to get into college, which is sixty times better than high school. I promise.”
Sydney cried harder. “Three more years? That’s such a long time!” she began shaking. “It’s ok Sydney. My dear rebellious Sydney. I know you’re a mini hun. I know you’re different from other kidagers. But I know something that will make you feel better. It will make you forget about your problems.” Sydney looked interested. “What is it?” she asked.
Sydney’s mom smiled. “Acidex,” she replied. She handed her a small cup. “Drink this Syd. Acidex will fix everything.” Sydney drank the Acidex.
An hour later, Sydney and her mom were on the floor having sex. It felt so wonderful. The Acidex made her love sex, even though it was with her mom. That drug did wonders for her. “Hey mom,” she said, coming up for air. She felt the room spinning. The room. What room was she in? She had forgotten.
“Yes hun?” “Will you take me to get some new tattoos and piercings tonight? They’re doing them for free at the rave tonight. Will you? I ike piercings. I like tattoos. Will you? Mommy? I like….”
“Ok, but only under one condition.” “What’s that mommy?” “You go back to high school and finish those three years.” “Ok mommy,” she sad. “Ok mommy, I’ll do that. I’ll finish high school. Ok, I will. I wonder why they call it high school. Ok mommy. I’ve turned into one of them. And I’m in the right section now. The right section. I’ll do it. I’ll finish high school mommy. Yes. We’ve just made a deal.” Her mom smiled. “Ok Syd. Then I’ll take you to get a few more tattoos and piercings tonight. We have a deal.”
Syndey laughed. It was funny, the way the carpet looked. She laguhed hysterically. “Tattoos and piercings are cool!”
Finally, she returned to having sex with her mom.
Categories: American Decline