World Of Hunger

The truck came to a halt, and the driver jumped down, gesturing for the two boys to get moving. "Alright, come on. Let's unload this stuff," he said, his tone gruff but not unkind.

Jay hopped down effortlessly, stretching his arms. Nicolas followed hesitantly, his feet touching the ground of this strange new place for the first time. The air here smelled fresh—cleaner than anything he had ever breathed before.

As they began unloading the truck, Nicolas noticed how calm and quiet the surroundings were. It was almost unnerving, especially after the chaos of the bustling city he had left behind.

Before he could dwell on it, the driver clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. "Kid, listen to me. Go inside the house. Now. Don't wander around, don't talk to anyone, and wait for us there."

Nicolas blinked, startled by the urgency in the man's voice. "Why? What's—"

"Just go," the driver interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Nicolas did as he was told. He glanced at Jay, who gave him a reassuring nod before turning back to help with the unloading.

The house wasn't what Nicolas expected. It was small but sturdy, with a wooden door and windows that opened to let in the sunlight. Inside, the space was cozy, with neatly arranged furniture and a faint smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the air. It was the most welcoming place Nicolas had ever seen.

He sat on a chair near the window, his mind racing with questions. Where was he? Why did the driver seem so nervous? And most importantly, how was a place like this even possible?

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and the driver and Jay walked in, their faces slightly flushed from the effort of unloading. The driver set a large crate down with a thud and wiped his brow.

"Alright, kid," he said, plopping down onto a nearby chair. "Let's hear it. What do you want to know?"

Nicolas didn't hesitate. The questions spilled out of him like water from a broken dam. "Where am I? What is this place? Why are there cows here? How can there be fields of plants? Since I was born, I've never seen meat that wasn't from rats or insects. How is any of this real?"

The driver leaned back, rubbing his temples as if preparing himself for a long conversation. "You've got a lot of questions, kid. And honestly, I can't blame you. But let me make one thing clear: this place? It's not part of the world you know. It's... different."

Jay chimed in, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "He's right. Heaven isn't like the outside. It's a place that was built to survive. While the rest of the world fell apart, this place thrived."

Nicolas frowned, his confusion deepening. "But how? How can a place like this exist when everywhere else is starving?"

The driver sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Because this place was made for the elite. The ones who had power and resources when the world went to hell. They built it, sealed it off, and left the rest of us to fend for ourselves."

Jay nodded. "The cows, the fields, the clean air—it's all part of their system. They have technology and resources that most people can't even imagine. That's why this place is called Heaven."

Nicolas's stomach churned at their words. "So... they just left everyone else to die? While they live like this?"

The driver's face hardened. "Pretty much."

Jay looked at Nicolas, his expression softer. "That's why you're lucky, you know. Most people from the outside never even see this place. And if they do, they don't make it past the gates."

Nicolas clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath his confusion. "This isn't right. How can they just... hoard all of this while people are starving?"

The driver stood, placing a hand on Nicolas's shoulder. "Kid, I get it. It's not fair. But that's how the world works now. You're here. You're safe. That's more than most people can say. Don't waste it."

Nicolas didn't respond. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, disbelief, and a growing sense of determination. This place might be called Heaven, but to him, it was a stark reminder of just how broken the world truly was.

Uncle Shawn sighed deeply, his gaze distant as he spoke, as though he were reliving memories he wished to forget.

"Like I said, kid, I was young—probably around your age—when it all started. The world was in chaos back then. Overpopulation was out of control, climate change was wreaking havoc, and countries were fighting over resources. People were desperate for a solution, and that's when the world government introduced Project Unity."

Nicolas leaned forward, his curiosity piqued despite his anger. "Project Unity?"

Uncle Shawn nodded. "It was this grand plan to unite all the countries into one global government. No more borders, no more wars, no more competition for resources. They called it the Movement of Unity. The idea was that if everyone worked together, we could solve the world's problems."

Jay, sitting quietly in the corner, added, "At first, it sounded like a dream come true."

"Exactly," Uncle Shawn agreed. "For the first five years, it was everything people hoped for. The world seemed to be thriving. Food production was optimized, renewable energy became the norm, and conflicts between nations disappeared. Everyone had equal opportunities—or so it seemed."

Nicolas tilted his head, sensing a shift in Uncle Shawn's tone. "But it didn't stay that way, did it?"

Uncle Shawn shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. "No, it didn't. You see, while the system looked perfect on the surface, it was built on a lie. The powerful—the ones with money and influence—they controlled everything. They made the rules, and the rest of us were just pawns in their game."

Jay crossed his arms. "I wasn't born yet, but I've heard the stories. They promised equality, but in reality, they divided people into two groups: the elites and everyone else."

Uncle Shawn continued, his voice growing heavier. "At first, it was subtle. They claimed it was for efficiency—that resources had to be allocated wisely to prevent waste. But what it really meant was that the rich got richer, and the poor were left to fend for themselves. They built places like Heaven for the elites, where they could live in luxury while the rest of us starved."

Nicolas's jaw tightened. "And no one fought back?"

Uncle Shawn looked at him, his expression somber. "Some tried. There were protests, rebellions, even wars. But the world government had all the power. They controlled the food, the technology, even the water. They crushed anyone who resisted."

Nicolas's heart sank. He had always known the world was cruel, but hearing the history behind it made it feel even more hopeless. "So... how did you end up here?"

Uncle Shawn leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Like I said, I got lucky. When I was a teenager, I managed to sneak into Heaven during a supply transport. At first, I thought I'd be caught and executed, but someone took pity on me. They gave me a job as a driver. As long as I follow the rules and don't cause trouble, I'm allowed to stay."

Jay chimed in, his tone serious. "Heaven isn't perfect, though. Even here, there are rules. Strict ones. If you break them..." He trailed off, his expression dark.

Uncle Shawn nodded grimly. "Let's just say you don't want to find out what happens if you cross the elites."

Nicolas sat in silence, his mind racing. The world he had known—filled with hunger, suffering, and despair—wasn't just the result of bad luck. It was the deliberate design of a system built to serve the powerful.

"Kid," Uncle Shawn said, breaking the silence. "I don't know how you ended up here, but you need to be careful. This place might seem like paradise, but it's a cage, just like the outside world. The only difference is that the bars are invisible."

Nicolas clenched his fists, a spark of determination igniting within him. He didn't know what he could do yet, but one thing was certain: he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Uncle Shawn leaned back in his chair, his eyes heavy with memories. "The central countries of the world government are here in the US and in China," he continued. "They run everything—the policies, the distribution of resources, the military. Everything stems from those two hubs."

Nicolas tilted his head, processing the information. "So, they're the ones who decided who gets what?"

"Exactly," Uncle Shawn replied. "When the Movement of Unity started, my family thought moving here to the US would give us a better chance. We were from the Philippines, struggling like everyone else. At first, it seemed like the right decision. The world government was offering incentives for skilled workers to migrate to central countries. My father was an engineer, and my mother was a nurse, so we qualified. We thought it would be the beginning of a new life."

Jay, sitting cross-legged on the floor, interjected, "But it wasn't, was it?"

Uncle Shawn shook his head. "No. It started fine. My parents had jobs, and we were living in a decent place. But over time, things changed. The government tightened its control. They started separating people into classes based on their so-called value to society. If you were part of the elite—scientists, politicians, big business owners—you were set for life. But if you were part of the working class, like my parents, you were just... expendable."

Nicolas frowned. "So, even in the central countries, people suffered?"

"More than you'd think," Uncle Shawn said, his voice laced with bitterness. "The central countries became fortresses for the elite. Everyone else? We were just cogs in the machine, keeping everything running while they lived in luxury. My parents worked themselves to the bone, hoping to provide for me and my siblings. But no matter how hard they tried, it was never enough. When the food shortages began, they prioritized the elites. Families like mine were left to starve."

Jay nodded solemnly. "My parents told me similar stories. They were born in Heaven, but they always said life outside was brutal. It's why they never let me leave the gates."

Uncle Shawn sighed deeply. "I lost my parents during one of the famines. My siblings and I tried to survive on our own, but eventually, we got separated. I haven't seen them since. That's when I made my way to Heaven. I didn't want to die out there like the rest."

Nicolas's stomach churned as he listened. The picture Uncle Shawn painted was bleak, but it gave him a deeper understanding of the world he lived in—and the forces that had shaped it.

"You said this place is a cage," Nicolas said quietly. "Why stay here, then? Why not leave?"

Uncle Shawn's gaze hardened. "Because there's no better option, kid. Out there, you die of hunger or worse. In here, at least you've got a chance to survive. It's not perfect, but it's better than the alternative."

Jay glanced at Nicolas, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "You've got a lot to learn, Nicolas. Heaven might seem like a miracle, but it's just another part of the system. The question is, what are you going to do now that you're here?"

Nicolas didn't answer immediately. His mind was a storm of emotions—anger at the injustice, fear of the unknown, and a growing determination to understand more.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I can't just... accept this. There has to be a way to change things."

Uncle Shawn gave him a long, searching look before nodding. "Maybe there is, kid. But if you're planning to fight the system, you'd better be prepared. It's not going to be easy."

Nicolas set his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "I don't care. I'm not going to let this world stay the way it is."