May 2nd, 2066

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They didn't even knock before they broke down the doors and shattered the windows to gain entry to our home. There were gunshots shortly thereafter. All of these sounds were heavily muffled, but my mother and I have no doubts that it was definitely a search team trying to find and capture (or kill) us.

Before the bill had been signed into law, a few senators, congressmen, and even the president had talked about the procedures that would take place to ensure that as many imperfects as possible were captured immediately following the bill's passing. No one went into great detail, of course, as that would have helped their targets prepare for the events that would follow. Instead, government officials said things that were intended to make resistance seem hopeless.

One of the most significant talking points was how many boots would be on the ground the minute the law went into effect. The president's words? "All of them." Every police officer, every soldier on American soil, and every federal agent was going to be equipped with weapons, vehicles, and other gear that would help them track down, capture, or kill imperfects.

What did that mean, in reality? Well, it meant that everyone from well-trained soldiers to trigger happy, prejudiced cops had been given a license to kill and access to military-grade equipment that would help get the job done.

That was why there had been gunshots in our house, even though no one was up there. Someone with an eager trigger finger had probably been startled by a potted plant, a wafting curtain, or a speck of dust.

My mother and I have agreed that she won't leave the bunker to check on the house for two days, just to make sure the search team is gone for good.

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