2,000 Years of Peace

Entry by Runtt. This entry needs artwork!

Note from General Ebel: Obviously, this one ain’t eligible for prizes since Runtt is drumming for the freaking album in the first place. He’s already getting this stuff for free!

My name is Dexter Jared Peterson. I am 26 years old and I live in New York City. In the last seven years I have lived as 11,577 different people.

The alarm clock has gone off for the fifth time. Time to get out of bed. After a nice morning stretch I casually walk to the window. Parting the curtains, I’m astounded to see a city that seems to go on forever into the horizon. Much like the ocean, but visibly active.

The city looks oddly familiar, but different. It reminds me of home from my former life. Who am I now? It felt good to to take a shower for the first time, in what seemed to be a lifetime, without being shot at. I felt a real sense of calm.

My clothes, a grey suit, made from a blend of silk and other fabric, were laid out for me. A white shirt and purple tie accompanied it, with a very nice pair of loafers. A successful business man perhaps? This apartment is cozy. Not too big, not too small. I can take a wild guess and say that it’s a pretty expensive place to live. It looks to have paintings of who could be important people tastefully hung throughout the rooms.

I’m guessing it’s the 20th floor, judging by the view. I fix myself some coffee and pick up the local paper, conveniently slipped under my door. The headline jumped from the front page… 2,000 YEARS OF PEACE

Today, September 11, 4016, marks the two thousandth year of peace since the towers fell, and our city was devastated. Many will gather at the Tower Memorial to remember the history of that day and the resolve our fair country showed during such a dark day in our past, and to celebrate the many centuries of peace that would follow nearly two decades of war. Among the festivities will be performances by local rock bands, the theater district and speeches from the governor, the mayor and various celebrities (to be announced).

Placing the paper down, I sat up, and fixed my tie. There was knock at my door.

“They are ready for you, Mr. Mayor.” I grabbed my overcoat and my speech and walked out of the apartment.

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