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The Dome Chronicles: Lies

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Blurb

"I guess what you don't know can hurt you after all."

In the year 2097, the sun has ravaged the Earth, melting buildings and houses to the ground. All of the cities in America that were thriving and flourishing have now been destroyed; except for a select few that got really, really lucky...

Nikotopia is one of the only few that survived. Its governor and co-founder, Nicholas, vowed to protect the city from the blazing sun by building a protective glass dome that creates its own weather, produces light, and most importantly, keeps the city safe.

Freaya, his sixteen-year-old stepdaughter, is hesitant about their situation. She believes their life would have been much easier if they had avoided the Dome altogether and made improvements to the structure of their buildings.

Freaya's life seems perfect at a glance. Why would she want to remove the Dome and risk her city melting from the sun?

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Prologue
I wince in pain as I wrap the white bandage over my badly injured fingers. I try to convince myself that my injury could be worse, but I’m usually not very good at convincing myself of things. If I were, my fingers wouldn’t be injured in the first place. I let out a deep sigh, and a vivid feeling of hopelessness covers me like a blanket. I know that the reason we’re in lockdown isn’t my fault, but right now, it sure feels like it. Ever since this started, the city officials have been running around like chickens with their heads cut off. While the visualization of that is slightly humorous, our current situation definitely is not. I glance into the living room, where almost all of my younger brothers and sisters are playing a game of tag not-so-quietly. They have absolutely no idea what is going on, and I’m extremely envious. I wish I had no idea what was going on. Life was simpler when I was a kid and didn’t know anything. I pop my head back into the kitchen, where it looks as if my parents are ready to start pulling their hair out. “Any updates, Nicholas?” Since Nicholas isn’t technically our biological father, Toby, Peyton, and I call him Nicholas. It was awkward at first but when he and my mom started having kids of their own (nine kids, to be exact), he eventually came to terms with it. “Not since you asked me five minutes ago…” He’s sitting at his laptop with ruffled hair and an unshaven face, staring at the screen and pounding his fingers against the keys. My mom is pacing through the kitchen, clutching her phone so hard that I’m concerned about the disruption of blood flow to her fingers. Every once in a while she’ll dial a new number and I’ll see a single tear stream down her face, and a look of hopelessness cover it. Then she’ll hang up and repeat the process over again. After about five minutes of watching this process, I go back to the living room to check on my younger siblings, who have since gotten even rowdier, and I didn’t even think that was possible! After only about a day and a half of not being able to leave our house, we’re all going completely insane. I can’t imagine what this would be like long-term. “Attention, younglings!” Only about two or three of them look at me, as I expected.  “Mom and dad are trying to do important stuff, and y’all are being ridiculously loud. So, I need you all to follow me to the movie room so they can concentrate.” I walk over to my little brother and yank the pillow he was about to whack my sister with out of his hand. I place it gently back on the couch and grab the three seated stroller to strap my baby sisters and brother in. Picking them up one by one, I start to place each baby in the stroller as Peyton escorts all the little kids to the elevator. The fact that my middle three fingers on my right hand are injured makes this task difficult, but not impossible. “Good idea,” she whispers, winking.  I smile slightly and buckle the babies in the stroller, grabbing the diaper bag in case of an emergency diaper blow out.  As I push the stroller into the kitchen, mom and Nicholas both look up from what they’re doing.  “Thanks, Freaya,” Nicholas whispers. By the time I get to the elevator, Peyton has since wrangled all of the kids inside and brought them down to the basement. I push the button and the doors promptly open. While I push the stroller inside and press the ‘B’ button for the basement, I realize that everything that has happened in the past three months has happened because I pressed the wrong button for this elevator. Nikotopia was built long before I was born, but despite this fact, it's done nothing but make my life worse. Nicholas started making plans with his father for building our city when the sun’s radiation became dangerous in about 2070; he was only a teenager. Nikotopia was built 7 years later, just after he turned twenty. I always like to blame him for my problems, not only because it’s extremely fun, but because he’s essentially the root cause of them. Since Nikotopia was built, he has not only become a technological genius and CEO of the most successful technology company since Apple, but also the mayor.  In the numerous articles and databases I’ve searched through in my lifetime, I’ve learned that there are many cases that argue why the Dome covering Nikotopia is beneficial (and, as many of them say, essential). It has the power to block out the sun, which has become nothing but more dangerous every single year since the city was built. It can make its own weather, and there are no insects or pests that can harm you. The air quality is always superior and diseases due to pollution have since disappeared altogether.  Despite all these positives, I can think of numerous reasons against the Dome. For one, many of us were born inside Nikotopia and don’t know what it’s like outside. Additionally, the feeling of being trapped seems like it’s always there. I always have a longing to get outside, even if Public Safety Officials warn against it.  Lastly, there are non-material things that are always surrounding you. Things like hatred; this one comes up when Nicholas makes a decision that people don’t like. It always feels like they’re targeting our entire family instead of just him. Another is deceit; when it feels like everybody is avoiding me and shutting me out because of who my stepfather is. Then, there is the most important one of all: Lies. About who I am, who my family is, and where I came from.  My name is Freaya Parker, and this is my story.

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