The Year is 2087
"I am a slave of sorts. Kidnapped at a young age to serve future Kings, Queens, and the like. Being the person I am, I stepped into an argument between a fellow slave and one of our overseers. The situation escalated to violence and in self defense I killed the guard. I do not regret my actions. I hope other slaves will see what I have done and begin a rebellion. We did not choose this life."
The dark room reeks of sweat and fear. I am not the first to inhabit this cell and will not be the last. It is quite a predicament I am in. I am a slave of sorts. Kidnapped at a young age to serve future Kings, Queens, and the like. being the person I am, I stepped into and argument between an overseer and a fellow slave. In self defense, I killed the guard. For three months I have been awaiting trial. I do not regret what I did. I hope others will notice my actions and begin a rebellion. We did not choose this life.
The shackles on my hands and feet rattled loudly as I stood to do my daily exercise. It was the only thing keeping me sane. I started with push ups. One. Two...I heard a key enter the door to my cell and moments later, light flooded the room. I covered my eyes, still lying on cold concrete floor. A vicious kick to the ribs followed. When a superior enters the room you are expected to stand place your hands on top of your head just as a safety precaution.
"Get up, maggot. The court is ready for you" Came the gruff voice that belonged to the head of prison security. My shackles were removed and I followed the guards into the courtroom. The vast room had a large archway leading into it. The floor was a shiny tile of some sort and the roof was colored glass, casting beautiful shades and hues around the room. In the center of the floor there was a large podium meant for the person the trial was being held for. I looked into the crowd lining the circular floor and the first person I saw was the king's stunning youngest daughter, Zafina. I couldn't tell for sure but she appeared to be crying. Our relationship was complicated at best. From the age of five to the age of twelve I had been trained to meet her physical, mental, and emotional needs. Training was brutal for boys and girls alike. Over the four years that I had been serving her after training she had seemed to have developed quite a liking for me. But her royal society would ot allow her to have anything more than friendship with a slave. Then there was Natalie, a fellow slave whom I have known all my life. As my luck would have it, she had also discovered a fondness for me within herself. Just to add tot the predicament, fate itself seemed to have found it amusing to have the two of us assigned to Zafina, topping off this pie of problems.
The judge swung his gavel down in an arc to order silence. The trial was about to begin. There were small cameras floating around the room. Coming from a poor village, they were completely alien to me. Standing on the podium I could feel everyone's eyes on me. The king sat beside the judge with a smug smile on his face. King Mathias Ascilles III was a retired general who, in all 8 campaigns he had led, had only lost two battles. He was a man to respect and fear. Over six feet tall, and very muscular, his jet black hair was slicked back.
"You know why you're here" the judge stated bluntly. "So why don't we skip the formalities and get right to it. You killed one of your overseers some time ago. Why?
"He was attacking a friend of mine." I said, without expression. The judge narrowed his eyes.
"No pleas for mercy? You're just admitting to the murder?" He asked, baffled.
"Yes." I said quietly.
"Well the punishment for murder is death. You do realize this?" King Ascilles boomed. I nodded my head slowly.
"Any last words words for the viewers?" The judge asked, almost sympathetically. I looked to the nearest camera and spoke loudly:
"Slaves. A new era is upon us. We must show the world that we are not mindless souls, accepting every order given to us. Why should we be subjected to the cruelties we endure daily? Why should we suffer so that out masters can continue their extravagant lifestyle. We must rebel. Or end up like me. Dead. I looked back to the king and he had malice in his eyes.