The Revolution Of Our Youth (The End of Dystopia)

Omar sat at his desk, reviewing some documents, when the door to his office swung open.

The Tech Department Manager Othman stood there, looking slightly breathless.

Othman: "Omar, we need to have an urgent meeting today. Something important has come up - a new proposal from my department."

Omar: "Alright. Let me clear my schedule. How soon can we convene?"

A short while later, the meeting was underway. Tariq, the CEO, sat at the head of the table, listening intently as the Tech Department Manager spoke.

"We've developed a new technology that aims to revolutionize how we identify and target our audience. With this invention, we can reach our desired demographic at a fraction of the cost compared to our current methods."

Tariq raised an eyebrow. "That's a bold claim. Can you elaborate on this new method?"

Othman: "It leverages people's past data stored in the government database."

A ripple of murmurs went through the room. Tariq leaned forward, his expression serious.

Tariq: "Government database? Are you certain this is... legal?"

Othman: "Absolutely. Ive already consulted with our lawyers. I wouldn't have brought this forward if there was any question of legality. It turns out that the government grants access to this data to certain entities - hospitals, the police, schools, and colleges, for example. What we've developed is a system that processes this data, analyzes it, and identifies people's likes, dislikes, and preferences. This allows us to pinpoint our target audience with incredible speed and accuracy."

A thoughtful silence fell over the room as everyone processed this information. Tariq looked at the Manager, a mixture of intrigue and caution in his eyes.

Tariq: "So, you're saying this system can essentially predict consumer behavior based on their past data?"

Othman "Precisely. We believe this is a game-changer. It will allow us to personalize our marketing campaigns and reach the right people with the right products at the right time, all while significantly reducing our advertising costs."

Alia stood up, her expression determined. "I admit," she began, her voice firm, "that it's a great marketing idea, and it could save us a lot of time and money. But you just mentioned that hospitals, the police, schools, and colleges use this data. All those institutions can easily justify their reasons for accessing people's personal information. We're a corporation. How are we going to justify it? How are we going to convince the government to give us access to this database?"

Tariq leaned back, considering Alia's point.

"I like this idea," he said, a glint in his eye. "If the tech department can guarantee its success and build a professional, reliable system, then convincing the government will be the easy part. My lawyers will handle it. I work with the most professional lawyers in the country. They'll get us the permission to use the database in no time."

______________

Omar arrived home, the earlier meeting still weighing heavily on his mind. He barely had time to unwind before his phone rang. It was Maram, her voice tight with anxiety.

Maram:"Omar, I'm stuck at the mall. There are protests everywhere, all the roads are blocked. I can't get home."

Omar: "Okay, Maram, stay calm. I'm on my way."

He grabbed his keys and rushed back out, navigating the increasingly congested streets. As he neared the mall, he could hear the distant chanting and the hum of a restless crowd. Parking was impossible; he left the car a few blocks away and proceeded on foot.

He called Maram again "I'm here, but it's chaos. Where are you?"

"I'm in a clothing shop, it's called Zainab fashion, With Sally and Fadia. It's so scary, Omar."

He pushed his way through the throngs of stranded shoppers, his eyes scanning the crowd. The mall, usually a place of leisure, was now filled with a palpable tension. People milled about, unsure what to do, their faces etched with worry. He finally spotted the Zara sign and made his way towards it, weaving through the clusters of people.

He found her huddled near the back, her friends Sarah and Layla beside her. Maram's face lit up with relief when she saw him. He reached out and took her hand, his touch reassuring. "Come on," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Let's get out of here."

He led her through the crowded store, past racks of clothing and anxious shoppers, her friends trailing behind. He kept a tight grip on her hand, navigating the maze of the mall until they finally emerged outside.

The protests seemed to have intensified; the chanting was louder now, and a line of police officers stood a short distance away.

He pulled Maram close, shielding her from the commotion. "My car is parked a few blocks over, We'll have to walk."

He led her and her friends quickly but calmly away from the mall, towards his car. The sounds of the protest faded slightly with each step, replaced by the rhythmic thump of his heart, a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. He didn't relax until they were all safely inside the car, the doors locked, and he was pulling away from the curb.

The drive home was tense. Maram and Fadia, shaken by what they'd witnessed, recounted the brutal tactics they'd seen the police use against the protestors.

Maram said, her voice trembling.

"They were hitting people with batons, I saw them... I saw them..."

She trailed off, unable to articulate the full horror of what she'd seen.

Sally, however, was unsympathetic. "They deserved it. They were being barbaric first. Throwing rocks, setting things on fire..."

Before Fadia could respond, Omar swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding a collision with a police armored vehicle that had sped around the corner.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He tried to find a safer route, away from the downtown core, but every street seemed to be blocked or clogged with traffic.

Suddenly, Maram and Fadia screamed in unison. "Omar, pull over! Pull over now!"

A giant bulldozer was rumbling towards them, its massive blade looming. Omar slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding being crushed. The bulldozer roared past, its tracks shaking the car.

Fadia, her voice tight with fear, exclaimed, "That bulldozer... it's going towards the protest!"

Sally rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Fadia, you're being ridiculous. There's no reason for a bulldozer to go there. There's probably a construction site nearby, and it probably got stuck in the mess just like we did."

Hours crawled by. Omar tried different routes, inching forward when possible, but the traffic was a gridlock.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to find a way out of the city center. He drove in silence for a while, letting everyone process what they'd experienced. Finally, he dropped her friends off at their homes, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders.

__________

When they finally reached home, both Omar and Maram were utterly exhausted. The tension of the day, coupled with the harrowing experience at the mall and the chaotic drive, had taken its toll. As soon as they were inside, Maram broke down, the floodgates of her emotions finally opening. She recounted everything she had witnessed, the fear in her voice palpable.

"Omar, it was... it was awful," she sobbed. "The way they were... the way they were treating people..."

He held her close, listening patiently, offering comfort without interrupting. When she had calmed down a little, they turned on the television, hoping to get some news about the protest. Surprisingly, there was nothing.

No mention of it on any of the channels.

They turned to social media, and there, a different story unfolded. People were posting videos of the police brutality, the images raw and disturbing. One influencer was even live-streaming from the protest.

The influencer: " As you all can see the government is trying to break us, they are using brutal force now, there are many injuries, many people were injured and we are worried that we're going to lose people at this point, please call the ambulance, anyone watching this podcast call the ambulance immediately!"

Maram gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "Omar, look! The bulldozer... the one we saw! It's... it's chasing the protestors! Those who refused to back down!"

The live stream showed the massive bulldozer, its blade raised, pursuing a group of fleeing individuals. In the background, another bulldozer sat idle, waiting. The screen was filled with flashing lights as countless police vehicles swarmed the area.

The influencer: "They're using bulldozers against the protestors! This is insane! They're trying to kill us!"

Suddenly, the image on the live stream flickered and distorted. A cloud of a strange, unfamiliar gas billowed across the screen, obscuring the view. The audio cut out abruptly, and the live stream went dead. The screen went black.

_____________

The phone at the hospital rang incessantly, its shrill tone cutting through the already tense atmosphere.

A frightened voice on the other end relayed the urgent need for ambulances and medical staff downtown - a mass casualty event at the protest site.

Without hesitation,the staff sprang into action. Hasan and Jude were among the first to volunteer, and others piled into waiting ambulances, sirens wailing as they sped towards the scene.

When they arrived, the sight that greeted them was overwhelming. The streets were filled with injured people, a sea of pain and suffering. The sheer number of casualties was triggering.

They immediately began attending to the most critical cases first. It quickly became clear that they were outnumbered, hopelessly inadequate to deal with the scale of the disaster. They radioed back to the hospital, pleading for more ambulances and medical staff, but none arrived. The roads were blocked, access impossible.

Hasan and Jude struggled to reach an ambulance with an unconscious young man, his injuries severe. The vehicle was too far away, time was critical.

Hasan: "We can't wait,We need to get him somewhere safe, somewhere we can treat him."

They spotted a nearby building, its doors slightly opened "There!" Jude yelled, pointing. "Let's take him there."

They carried the man inside, laying him gently on the floor. As they began to assess his injuries, more injured protestors were brought in, carried by other protestors and bystanders.

The building, quickly and organically, transformed into a makeshift medical point. The injured were laid out on the floor, on makeshift stretchers, anywhere there was space. Hasan, Jude, and the others worked tirelessly, their hands moving quickly, trying to stabilize the wounded, knowing that every second counted. The cries and groans of the injured filled the air, a stark and heartbreaking testament to the violence that had unfolded.

Hasan :"Jude, this one is critical, at this point he'll die!"

Jude:"I know, but there's nothing we can do, there's not even a doctor in sight only three doctors came with us and they are stuck on the other side."

Hasan:"We must do something to save him, one of us must go and try to get him to the umblance while the other stats here and treat the others."

Jude:"You're right, you go, I'll stay here with the others."

Hasan: "Are you sure about this?"

Jude: "We have no choice, Hasan, we must act quickly, go now, go!"

Hasan"Ok, I'll take him to the umblance, I'll come back as soon as I can."

Hasan, his brow furrowed in concentration, knelt beside the unconscious young man.

The gash on the man's side was deep and bleeding profusely. Hasan worked quickly, applying pressure to the wound, wrapping it tightly with whatever makeshift bandages he could find. "Keep pressure here, we need to stop the bleeding."

He glanced around anxiously.

"We can't stay here. We need to get him somewhere safe."

Two other men approached, one of them said "We've checked the back way, It's clear for now, but there's a lot of debris. We can get through, but it'll be slow going."

The other man nodded. "The main street is a mess. Police barricades everywhere. We won't make it that way."

Hasan nodded, his focus unwavering. "Alright. Let's go. We need to keep this wound from opening up again. Every bump, every jolt is a risk."

Together, the three men carefully lifted the unconscious man.

Hasan supported his upper body, cradling his head, while the other two took his legs.

They moved slowly and deliberately, navigating the debris-strewn streets, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger.

The injured man groaned softly, and Hasan tightened his grip, whispering words of reassurance. They knew they were racing against time, every second that passed increasing the risk to the young man's life.