The fifth year

About this story and my inspiration

This story unfolds in a stark, dystopian future reminiscent of George Orwell's chilling narratives. It centres around a poignant romance, a genre that isn’t my usual forte, yet I’m determined to dive into it headfirst. The plot revolves around two lovers who find themselves amidst a battle for their fundamental human rights in a world stripped of freedoms and individuality.

The concept for this tale sparked in my mind one afternoon, as I was changing out of my scrubs in the bustling angiography theatre where I work. Two of my colleagues were engaged in a spirited discussion about relationships; they were voicing their scepticism about the longevity of love, suggesting that perhaps people aren’t meant to stay together forever. This notion resonated with me as a blatant misrepresentation of reality. I have always believed in the enduring power of love, a conviction rooted in witnessing the unwavering bond between my parents, who have navigated life’s challenges together with grace and commitment.

Drawing inspiration from my love for dystopian films and novels, I began to flesh out this narrative, blending elements of romance with themes of resistance and resilience. The imagery of that day stuck with me—the sterile, clinical environment of the theatre juxtaposed with the vibrant memories of what love should be. Without further ado, here’s the story that began to crystallise in my thoughts as I made my way home from work, compelled by the sparks of c reativity ignited that day.

Chapter One:

"The end for as we know it for us"

On March 2, 2035, a wave of new laws came into effect, dramatically reshaping the fabric of our society. My husband, Viar, and I, both now 31, are navigating this transformed reality together. In the fervent debates of the past, conspiracy theorists often warned about a "new world order," but hearing that phrase spoken by those in power now feels almost unreal. This is no longer mere speculation—it has become a tangible part of our lives.

Reflecting on it, I find it challenging to piece together the series of events that led us to this point. Time feels blurred; the chaos of the past intertwines with the uncertainty of the present, creating a complicated web of memories. Those in charge—whoever they may be—have a tight grip on our lives, exercising their authority in ways we never anticipated. The idea of democracy, once the bedrock of our society, has nearly faded away, replaced by a rigid regime that dictates our actions and beliefs.

The roots of this new order can be traced back to the devastation of World War III. In the wake of that disastrous conflict, a mysterious organisation emerged, promising to restore order and correct humanity's past mistakes. In some ways, they have succeeded; the streets are safer now, crime rates have dropped significantly, and there’s an overarching sense of security that feels like a long-lost memory. However, this newfound safety comes at a heavy cost. Life has grown increasingly harsh and unforgiving, with the rights and freedoms we once took for granted eroding away. Now, we navigate a gritty existence characterised by strict rules and an underlying current of fear. It’s a complicated reality—one in which safety and oppression coexist, and the hope for a brighter future seems like a distant dream.

In my view, the current landscape is anything but warm-hearted. While numerous countries seem to coexist, the lines that once defined nations are increasingly vague. This blurring of borders has given rise to a tangled web of challenges that I’m eager to explore in my narrative. I firmly believe that when people unite, they can weave a magnificent tapestry of diverse cultures and ideas. Yet, it’s disheartening to see that not everyone shares this hopeful vision. In response to this growing disunity, authorities have chosen to tighten their grip, implementing stricter rules and regulations with an iron fist.

Underneath this totalitarian regime, dissent is met with ruthless intolerance. Citizens live under constant scrutiny, with any sign of defiance carrying serious consequences. The message is unmistakable: stray from the collective harmony, and you may find yourself ostracised—or worse, erased from society altogether. In this atmosphere, dissenting voices or differing opinions about government policies face severe suppression, illustrating the dangers of speaking out.

The regulations are numerous, enforcing a one-size-fits-all mentality that stifles individual freedom and personal expression. Among these measures is a policy strikingly similar to China’s infamous one-child initiative—a tactic initially devised to control population growth. In this context, such a rule serves not just as demographic management but as a reflection of a broader culture of fear and oppression, where the state dictates personal choices in the name of maintaining social order.

The process in question, while reminiscent of past practices, is distinct in its execution. It begins with the careful selection of two individuals of the opposite sex, who are chosen to enter into a civil partnership or marriage. This selection is not arbitrary; instead, it is rooted in an analysis of genetics and the pursuit of desirable traits—a concept that may evoke unsettling memories of a darker time in history. Regrettably, it appears that history is reemerging with a modern twist.

What I refer to is a eugenics experiment that, intriguingly, distances itself from the stigma of racism often associated with such ideologies. Instead, the focus lies on pairing individuals who share some genetic differences. This practice explicitly prohibits those who are considered too genetically similar from procreating together.

The partners selected must embody a robust set of traits associated with health, physical attractiveness, and cognitive ability. This selective breeding strategy aims to foster a new generation endowed with enhanced qualities, raising questions about ethics and the implications of such choices in society.

In a society where human perfection is meticulously engineered, a couple exemplifies this ideal: one partner of African descent, with skin that exudes a rich, firm texture and a physique defined by strength, stands beside another partner from Asia, whose delicate features and graceful demeanour provide a striking contrast. Their union has yielded a child, a captivating blend of their heritages, possessing luxurious, thick hair that cascades like a waterfall and mesmerising almond-shaped eyes that sparkle with intelligence and curiosity.

With at least one athletic parent in the mix, this child is not only anticipated to be aesthetically beautiful but also to exhibit remarkable physical prowess and sharp intellect. In this carefully crafted society, individuals are designed to be unique yet flawless, each possessing traits that are celebrated and sought after.

However, the couple faces an urgency that weighs heavily upon them: they must conceive a child within the next five years. Should they fail, the consequences are dire—they will be forcefully separated and reassigned to different partners, a process that disregards any emotional connections that may have formed.

While there is potential for love to blossom amidst these unions, it stands in stark contrast to the primary objective of procreation and perfection. This raises profound questions: how did we arrive at a world that prioritises genetic idealism over human qualities such as compassion and emotional depth? Surely, within this framework, a struggle for genuine connection and understanding persists, haunting the hearts of those caught in this engineered existence.

This is how I felt with Viar—an overwhelming surge of emotions crashed over me like an unyielding tide, relentless and all-consuming. How could it be possible to experience such a staggering absence of compassion, such a profound void of love in a relationship that had once seemed so solid, so enduring? It felt utterly inconceivable, particularly given that I had once believed our bond to be unbreakable, fortified by shared dreams and whispered secrets. I had never encountered such deep sorrow; it settled in my chest like a heavy lump lodged in the centre of my throat, a constant, aching reminder of everything that was slipping away, of what we could have been. They say love is a double-edged sword—at once beautiful and excruciating, capable of lifting you to the heights of ecstasy, only to plunge you into the depths of despair.

As the days melted away, leaving us helplessly adrift, I often found myself lost in memories of those precious moments when we would sit together, savouring the silence, lost in each other’s gaze. Our eyes would lock, as if they held the very secrets of our souls, a connection that felt timeless and eternal. Yet, in those fleeting seconds, I began to understand that we were teetering at the edge of a precipice, where our world could shatter at any moment, our lives entwined yet unravelling in a heartbreaking dance. What were we to do in the face of such fragility? This was our stark reality, as delicate as the whispers of hope that hung hesitantly in the air, fragile yet insistent.

The letter arrived one day in the mail, just like any other piece of ordinary correspondence we receive on a normal day. For a moment, it felt as though the whole regime had escaped us. I didn't see this coming as I opened the envelope; it looked just like any other letter.

As I peeled back the glued parchment, I recognized the color of the letter inside. My heart sank when I saw who it was addressed to. It was a government letter, and it contained a warning. Our five-year term had come around, and I hadn’t even realised it.

"I can't leave. Please, please, I can't leave you, I can't leave you," Dervla's voice trembled as she clung to Viar, her words escaping her lips in a desperate plea that resonated with both fear and longing. The intensity of her emotions radiated from her, pooling around them like a tangible force. Viar’s dark, exotic eyes, rich in depth and mystery, bore into Dervla’s vibrant lapis lazuli irises, shimmering like the Mediterranean Sea under the golden sun, a mirror to her distant European roots. The silence that enveloped them was palpable, thickening the air, stretching on as if time itself had paused, wrapping them in a cocoon of uncertainty and yearning that felt stifling yet oddly intimate.

"We will fight for us," Viar declared, his voice ignited with fierce determination, each word resonating like a battle cry. The conviction in his tone sent a ripple of energy through Dervla, flickering like a fragile flame amidst the shadow of despair that threatened to engulf them. "This is our fight. Our fight for the world. The good fight." His words hung in the air, charged with hope and a sense of purpose. They became an anchor in a stormy sea, igniting within Dervla a spark of optimism that she had feared was lost forever. Together, they would forge a path through the chaos, their love a beacon that could guide them even in the darkest of times.