A/N: This chapter will soon be rewritten!

PROPERTY OF
CHRISTOPHER J. POWELL
MANHATTAN (B), NEW YORK

February 1-I had one of the worst scares of my life this morning.

There was a repetitive, echoing beeping sound in my room. In fact, it was right next to my head. So, I did what any other human would do. My eyes shot open and stared at the white ceiling they were fixed on. I tilted my head to the left and saw a small black square on my nightstand. With sudden realization, I laughed at the newly discovered fact- it was just my alarm clock. My hand appeared from under the covers and shut it off. Whew.

Yeah, so anyway, this is a new journal. I bought it at a thrift store. There's a coffee stain on the back cover that sort of smells like it's hazelnut.

In case anyone ever finds this, I guess I'll write some decent info in it. Hopefully they'd return it to me first and not read it. Not like this will be a cheesy thing, but some good ideas might come out on the pages. Maybe I'll bury it for someone else to find once it's filled and my grandkids will find it years later.

Grandkids? Okay, I'm a little ambitious here. I'm eighteen and I'm not exactly in any type of relationship. Some girl in Manhattan A had been going out with me but we broke up a while ago. I'd rather not write about it again.

They say that, thirty years ago, Earth wasn't like how it is now. The government wasn't corrupt and the entire planet wasn't split into high platforms for the sake of flood escape. When I was smaller (I can't remember the age off the top of my head), there was this huge global warming threat and huge construction companies started raising the land higher to avoid extreme flooding. It worked, but a lot of areas are split into different sections. I'm in Manhattan B. It's mainly a chunk of the Upper East Side. The other parts of the city are Manhattans A, C, D and F. (We skipped "E".) I've always wanted to move to one of the parts of Brooklyn because there were less of them. They actually kept Staten Island in one piece because it's so small, so maybe I'd be better off there.

I moved out of my parents' place recently. It's been a month, maybe. I turned eighteen half a year ago, so I bought some apartment building near Temple Emanu-El. It's a really nice place (the apartment, I mean. The Temple's nice too, though) and worth the money. What a shame, though, that the government is so demanding and controlling. A little while ago, easily ten years, it began to transform. They let a bunch of illegal immigrants into the country and didn't mind. While that annoyed some people, it got a lot worse.

A few years later, they began making laws regarding what was acceptable to dress in and work as. Now, in 2030, they stopped selling bright colors. A lot of people lost their jobs. I don't understand why all those posh stores stayed open, but they're still around. Citizens started working there, so others have their shifts shortened and have less pay. Technically, everyone gets an equal salary in similar fields.

I work in a huge Century 21 near the edge of the sector. At the far end, about three blocks down, is a mental asylum. Now, why they decided to put that there, I have no clue. All everyone knows is to stay away from it. Surprisingly, we get pretty good business considering the store's location. Anyway, my shifts include the children's department (Ew.) and the check-out at the front of the store. Honestly, it's not too bad.

It's really a shame that our government is how it is. Seriously, if you make one significant rebellious move or try to prominently stand out, you're pretty much dead. It's sad.

February 8- Writing in a journal is hard. My life is so boring, anyway. I don't have much to write about. Let's see. Well, I had a pretty bad chicken Caesar salad at Olive Garden yesterday. I didn't have a lot of money on me and was hungry, so my starvation brought me to that place. First of all, it smelled. It was some malodorous disgrace on a plate. Second, it tasted like my hair when there's still shampoo in it but a strand gets in my mouth.

I'm still pretty disgusted. I guess my day has been pretty crappy, but it hasn't had anything too eventful. There's that occasional weird customer in Century 21 that asks for some absurd item and yells at you if it doesn't exist, but it's nothing notable.

February 12- I've actually found something to write about.

My job is pretty consistent. It's just checking things out and providing assistance when needed. I've been seeing this one guy like, every day there. I don't know if it's too important, but I guess I was proud of myself for having something to record.

Some guy that was shopping came up to me and asked me a really absurd question.

"Do you sell small, black leather jackets without pockets?"

OK, I never really saw such a thing. I didn't think leather jackets had pockets, but my response to him was this:

"I'm not sure. I'll have a look in the back of the store for you." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the man's eyes widened in a panicked way, as if he had been caught doing something.

"No, no, it's fine. I was, I was just wondering," he stuttered. The guy zippered his coat up and turned around swiftly, leaving the place.

That was pretty much it. I've seen him around a bunch of times, but this was the only instance in which he actually came up to me and spoke. Maybe he'll come back tomorrow.

February 13- Of course! I was right. That guy came into Century again. He didn't come up to me for anything today, but still had a nervous look on his face. He certainly stands out, but not enough to get in trouble with the law. He's got bright blonde hair that's not long- it stops at his ears. There is also a light, barely-existent beard growing on his chin and around his mouth. He looks like he might be in his thirties. From the sound of his voice, now that I think about it, he might be some sort of German. His use of the English language was pretty decent- maybe it's an accent he speaks due to his descent. Hmmm.

February 14- I don't have work today. It's Valentine's Day, and I'm lacking a girlfriend, so I'm going to visit my parents.

What a loser I am.

Anyway, I bought a box of chocolate for my mom and took some of my own money out for my dad so he wouldn't feel left out. Since I spent my money of a house, I'm still saving up for a car, and this left me forced to take the bus. Ugh.

Wearing a red tie to look somewhat celebrant, I left my apartment, shuffled down the stairs and slipped out of the building. Thankfully, I had enough money left on my Metrocard (I'm also glad they still accept them. The President plans to retire them in a year or so.) to board an X-bus, which stopped near my parents' building. My shoes carried me to the bus stop, where the vehicle was just pulling up. I hopped inside and sat in the front, figuring it would be more convenient for my forgetful nature.

The bus was pretty packed already, so most of the people groaned when the doors opened again. There were only a few seats left now, so someone ended up sitting next to me. I glanced over at who it was.

It was that man who I kept seeing in the store.

How was that even possible? Was I being stalked by this man? My body automatically shifted uncomfortably towards the window. He scratched his beard, not noticing my movements, and crossed one leg over the other.
The man was holding a phone in his hand, and it was ringing. He picked it up and held it to his ear. I eavesdropped intently as I heard a young girl's voice on the phone.

"Yes. I'm on my way. I'll see you soon," His voice sounded loving, but the accent that changed the pronunciation of the words made them seem so much more harsh than they were meant to sound. A few moments after the girl on the other line finished speaking, he said goodbye and hung up.

So my first impression was that this guy was a father. That would explain why he had been looking for a small jacket, and it might be why he's always rushing around. He seemed friendly enough, and actually looked more like a businessman or a professor than a stay-at-home father. Maybe he worked. So many questions were in my system.

It's actually kind of creepy that I'm writing so much about a man I've barely ever laid eyes upon until last week. I don't think he'll ever end up reading my journal.

Ugh.

When the bus finally reached our destination, the man got off with me. I watched him suspiciously as I pretended to text someone on my phone. He neared a corner and veered off into an alleyway. I thought it was pretty weird, but it's better than having him around me.

He actually seems quite friendly by the way he talked and looked, but I'm definitely not taking any chances.

February 15-I never got to finish the entry from yesterday because I fell asleep writing it. It wasn't really that much; my visit was successful. My parents asked me about my job, mainly. I didn't tell them about the mysterious stalking man because my mom probably would have fainted.

I'm off from work again today, so my taste buds will probably lead me to the nearest diner. Food awaits.

February 18- I'm still pretty full from the huge breakfast I had earlier this week.

There's work today. Hopefully that man won't be there again.

I just got back from work. He wasn't there! Thank God in Heaven. It really relieves the tension knowing that someone isn't creeping around you. When I was on my way back from the store, there were some loud screams coming from three blocks down where the asylum is- I could tell it was the source of the sound. Everyone including myself began walking quickly in the opposite direction- what else were we going to do?

After that brief scare, everyone started walking around normally again. These outbursts would happen from time-to-time. I wonder what goes on in there. Besides all the raving lunatics yelling in there, I mean. We all know to stay away from that place as much as we can, but sometimes I feel curiosity getting the best of me. Maybe one day I'll go near it to see if I can locate anything to satisfy my eagerness.

Now that I'm writing it, it doesn't sound like such a good idea. Hmmm.

Reviewing my idea once more, I think I'll just stay away from it unless I want to end up in there. Home, here I come!