They took their plates with them to sit on the front porch.

     "See anything different?" Abby asked.

     "Looks like the same old neighborhood to me," Cathy replied.

     They saw houses with well-trimmed lawns with sprinklers keeping everything green. Cars lined the street, but only a couple cars moved down the street. Alison saw a woman behind the wheel of one car who looked her mother's age, although a lot more prim and proper. What she didn't look like was someone particularly worried about the fact that the world had just about ended in a bloodbath of torture and death, like, an hour before.

     Or had it?

     What day was it?

     What ​year was it?

     "There's aren't any screens," Cathy said.  

     That's right. They'd appeared everywhere the year before, on every corner and along every road, Technolica's screens spewing Technolica's propaganda, as well as acting like cameras, recording everything.

     Gone. 

CONTINUE