“Today is April twenty-second, 2085 and the first entry into my new journal I’m going to be keeping. Keeping a journal is slightly nerve racking for me, just because my district is so strict. But before I blabber on, I should start by introducing my district. So I live in District forty-eight. There are fifty-one districts today, although there were fifty at some point in time. I’m guessing one district was overpopulated and created a new one to reduce it. My district doesn’t allow anyone to document anything, which includes journals, voice recorders, cameras, etc. Some other districts allow it. Well that’s what my parents say. But my parents also say their district is a mess and have no way of order. I don’t understand how those districts are still standing. In school, we talk about how if the government didn’t place and maintain these laws, our society would be a disaster. I mean, in the other districts there are people who can choose their jobs, what they wear, who they marry, how many children they can have, they have complete uncontrolled freedom. I just don’t understand how their societies have not fallen apart.
In my eyes our district is the best of them all. Although we have the most regulations and rules, we have the most organized and non-violent district of them all. We have minimum crime. And if there is crime, the criminal is never to be spoken of again (or even seen for again for that matter). We have high educational standards and two of the best school throughout the Districts. This just support that our district is the best, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind.

Today is April twenty-third, 2085. I completely forgot to introduce myself in my last entry. So I guess you can call this the official first entry. Well sort of... I’m sixteen years old and I’m the second child of my family. In my district we are only allowed to have two children in the household, one girl and one boy. Some districts can have up to five, but their districts are not as perfected as ours.
My mother works where all the other women in our district work, the clothing factory, district offices, and a few other office jobs. My father works where all the other men work in our district, our districts power company, bike shop (since our district is not able to ride cars), and the technology center downtown. I should explain a couple of the jobs as well since you probably don’t understand them. But first here is how the occupations in our district work. Every adult has a rotating schedule of weekly jobs, and as soon as teens hit the age of nineteen, they begin to work. Now your age also determines what schedule you work. Now the men work at the power companies, which supply general power to the District. They manage the bike shop, and maintain the technology center. The technology center is the holy grail of the District. It’s where we have access to technology we can’t have in our homes. There are computers (which has limited, very limited, internet access), tablets, and gaming systems. Now each person only has a limited amount of time a week they can use the technology center, unless your occupation, or schooling requires the need for technology. Normally each person get’s about an hour and thirty minutes.

Now the women take different occupations. The women take office jobs and manage the district hall, other office jobs, and work in the clothing factory. We here at District forty-eight have our own clothing factory. Women, men, and children all have a certain set of clothing for a certain day of the week. All clothing is manufactured the same to ensure equality. My parents say if you don’t wear the correct clothing on the correct day the government punishes you, but they never said how? Which slightly frightens me, and I guess frightens others as well.... Maybe that’s why our society is so successful.

Today is April twenty-fifth, 2085. I missed yesterdays entry due to the districts.......Or, maybe I shouldn’t mention that. There are some things the district wants, and makes sure stay a secret. I don’t even want to risk writing about it. But I guess it doesn’t matter what I write because no matter what, is this journal is found my family is going to be punished. All the government has to do is read just a sliver of this journal and that’s the end of that. That’s another thing I forgot to mention in the last entry, I just can’t seem to stay on topic. Our district believes nothing should be held secret, so we have weekly house inspections by the government. I’m still not quite sure how they manage to check the entire home for contraband though. A government official will enter the home and with a little handheld device and scans our home.

My guess, is that our home is built as one giant x-ray machine and the hand held devices display the home in a way they can quickly scan for contraband. The things they look out for the most are devices which can contact outside districts. This doesn’t just include cell phones, and computers, but letters, documents, anything that can connect to the outside districts. We are not completely isolated, if you're getting the picture that we live inside a society enclosed by fifty foot walls, have no phones, or any access to the outside world. We have telephones which can call any number within our area code. But those phones are only accessible through the district hall. The calls are also monitored, as well as costing a ridiculous amount of money. We are not allowed to have cell phones within our homes, or even in the district itself. Somehow, though, cell phones and contraband fill the streets. We do get mail from other districts, from family and friends, but those packages are searched and scanned before being delivered to the home. I just don’t understand how contraband gets past all those inspections and searches. We also can’t travel far either. Our district is not allowed to drive motor vehicles, but the government is an exception, what a surprise. So all us citizens have a specialized bike. Our bicycles can only travel so far from our district due to our microchip (which is embedded into our skin as a young child), or our auto locking bicycles. Once we hit a certain point that we can’t pass, or the district boundary as we call it, the tires will lock and our microchips will inform government officials and respond to the site almost immediately. The open field and open land bothers me. I sometimes go to the outskirt of the district, as far as I can go before reaching the district boundary, and I stare down the open field. I imagine other cities, I imagine seeing other people who are completely different, I imagine the outside world. I watch the sunset over the grassy field and I stand there just until it gets dark. The continuing road always mocks me when I reach the boundary. I wish to go further, but I know I can’t. I just simply can’t.

Today is April twenty-sixth, 2085. Today is the weekly house inspection. I know I don’t have any contraband, but I’m not sure about my sister and my parents. The worst part about the inspection is that if they find anything, they come back days later to tell you the results. For those days, you have to wait in anticipation. The only things I’m worried about is this journal. Although it’s not considered a contraband item, it violates one of our districts many laws, the law of documentation. And if this journal is found, my entire family will suffer the consequences. I should probably go and find a place to hide this journal. The inspectors should be coming within the next two-three hours. That gives me plenty of time to find a hiding spot for this journal, if any place is safe all together.

Today is April twenty-eighth, 2085. I had to miss yet another two days of entries because I have a feeling the inspectors knew something. They acted normal as they arrived, took out their equipment, greeted us nicely, and asked us to wait in the living room as they wandered the house with the devices which, as far as I know, scan the home. But as they walked up, stairs I heard the devices beep. I followed where they were walking by listening to the sound of the foot steps on the floor. As they got closer to where I hid the book, the devices began to beep uncontrollably. My heart sank, and I couldn’t breath. They quickly walked downstairs, stopped in the living room, stated the results will be back soon and left as soon as they arrived. I walked over to the door to shut it behind them and glanced out the window above our door. They were talking and had concerned looks upon their faces. They drove their car to the next house across the street and began the same process all over again. My family, all sitting in the living room just stared at me with horrific eyes. They knew I had something I was not supposed to have. I guess they expected me to say something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. I walked upstairs into my room and locked the door behind me. My family was disappointed towards me. Why, though? They are mad at me for keeping a harmless journal. Then it hits me. Now that I look back on all the things we learn in school and all these pointless laws the government places, it’s absolutely unnecessary. Why can’t I travel to where I want to travel? Why can’t I write what I want to write? I can’t be the only one who sees our district this way. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why our country divided itself into these pointless districts. I don’t understand why the government is controlling us for the better of society. The government completely destroyed society.
I want to escape from here, I want to run away but I can’t. I have known people who have tried and they made it as far as the district boundary and were brought back. They were brought back, but not back to society, not to back to their daily lives, but somewhere....someplace nobody knows of.

Today is April twenty-ninth, 2085. Like every Saturday it’s raining. Here in this horrible district, we have a weather schedule, just like everything else around here is scheduled and organized. Monday through Friday is a clear, sunny, summer day, while Saturday is rainy, and Sunday cloudy. This society is just one big pattern. Everything is repeated day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade. It’s just one giant cycle that repeats non-stop. I wish I could tell other districts about this horrific, over controlling government. But that is nearly impossible.....

I think the inspectors are back for the results of weekly house inspection. I glance out my window and see the white van parked directly in front of our house. Two men in the brown uniforms are exiting the car and approaching our home. One man is carrying a box, a box that seems to be filled with wires and some sort of giant battery. I have never seen that before. I got an empty feeling in my stomach, a slight dizziness in my head. This is not a normal, oh your house is clear to go, kind of inspection report. Writing this journal was the biggest mistake of my life...

I have to hurry and finish this entry. If anyone ever reads this in the future, know this is not the way a society should be. For other districts, for other societies, shall this be the warning. This is not the way the future societies shall stand, it is nowhere near successful, and does not better the society. They are entering my house, I need to hide this...

I hear my parents screaming, what’s going on? Before they confiscate this journal, let this be a warning, society is fragile, do not try and control it. an over controlled government will not fix the daily struggles of common society..........”

The char-coaled journal was falling apart by the binding. The journal was tattered and worn, the pages were ripped and the cover was burnt. The book lays in the rubble of the char-coaled District, under a collapsed desk in the lone house which stands alone among the destroyed buildings. The District looked just about as bad as the journal itself. This was the last of the journal entry which was recorded. It was the only remainder of the journal found in the abandoned District forty-eight. The remainder of the society is in complete rubble, it seems the last entry of the journal was entirely true, society is fragile.