[ WP ] Human 's have begun to slowly kill themselves by making to many rules .

The street was filled with the sound of footsteps on the concrete pathway. The road was bereft of traffic, and yet, nobody walked in this free space. Crammed onto the sidewalk, the made their way along silently, eyes down. 
 
 Each person in uniform, they walked to their places of work, each step in time, as though the entire city marched together. A briefcase in their left hand, their pass-key in the right, they moved like soulless creatures. 
 
 There are no cigarettes here. No tattoos peeking from the edge of a cuff or collar. No earrings, no hairstyles other than regulation ponytails. 
 
 There is no individuality in this city. Nor in this world. 
 
 One girl, as she walks along, swept along by the numb crowd, furtively peeks up now and then. She can feel an urge growing in her, a strange fizzing of something that has been pushed down too long and refuses to be further denied. 
 
 As she walks, she thinks of the world, and remembers how things used to be. The way little freedoms had slowly been taken away, and the people of the world had not noticed until it was too late. Until they were simply cows in a field, watching those who feed them with trusting eyes, plodding along after the one who will slaughter them. 
 
 It had started innocently enough. As she walked, she thought she knew how they had been taken in, at the start. Rules to protect you, they said. Limits on driving speeds. Limits on the number and sort of pet you can own when you live in the city. 
 
 No camping in the forests. No hunting, no fishing. No fires. Only two children per couple. Only one child per couple. No drugs, then no alcohol. No cigarettes. No coffee before work. No coffee after work. No coffee at all. All cars to be the same colour. No cars at all. All shoes to be black. No running in public. It made her head spin to think of the rules they came up with, and the dizzying speed at which they had been implemented. 
 
 As the years passed, and their world had turned from playground to concentration camp, she watched with sad eyes as her parents had turned from vibrant artists to beaten-down ticket-sellers at the subway. No art. No community meetings. That one had started to keep them safe from groups of dangerous drug-baron bikers, spreading quickly to sports clubs, women ’ s groups, and then day-care centres. 
 
 What is there to live for, in this place? she wonders as she walks. 
 
 Again she sneaks a look around, watching the blank expressions of those who surround her. Do they care? Why do they allow it? What is a life without joy? 
 
 It had taken ten years, and then, without warning, her parents had killed themselves. She had known they were dying, anyway. A slow death of smothered soul. It had happened to hundreds, thousands. The bullets her parents had chosen had been a mercy for them. How many people, throughout the years, had done nothing, and wound up dying in their stern apartment, alone and unhappy? 
 
 Suddenly, and without breaking stride, she lets the briefcase fall from her hand, a moment later, her pass-key clinks onto the pavement. She thinks she sees somebody turn and watch in horror, but they have their eyes to the ground before them again so fast, she can ’ t be sure. 
 
 Surreptitiously, she reaches up and begins to unbutton the plain black coat she wears, lets the garment slide from her back and be lost under the feet of those who march along behind her. She hears a voice now, but doesn ’ t look around. 
 
 The girl begins to run, pulling at the plain band that holds her hair up in the ponytail. 
 
 “ Run! ” she shouts, suddenly exhilarated and giddy. 
 
 “ You gave them your freedoms! You can take them all back! Run! Take their uniforms from your backs! Take back the life you should have! ” 
 
 As she runs down the street, meeting the incredulous eyes of those she passes, her hair streaming in the wind, she smiles; a grin she has never used before. Slowing just long enough, she kicks the stiff black shoes from her feet before running on. 
 
 “ Life should be beautiful! Life should not be so bound by rules! Rules! Not even rules of your own making! ” 
 
 How far she has sprinted, she can not be sure, but finally, she slows, breathing hard. Disbelieving and disappointed, she turns, again looking into the faces of those around her. 
 
 “ What ’ s wrong with you? Don ’ t you remember how it was? ” she asked one older man nearby. “ Haven ’ t you heard of the way life used to be? ” she queried of a young girl beside her. 
 
 Nobody spoke. And then, as one body, every person in the street turned and began their steady marching once more. She felt tears prickle her eyes, her throat growing thick. 
 
 “ You may as well be dead, ” she whispered. 
 
 Dejected, she turned, vowing to leave the city and find a life for herself in the wild forests beyond the gates. 
 
 “ Rules 84, 91, 15, 39, 47, 10, 94, 102 and 103 violated. Citizen terminated. ” 
 
 The enforcer raised his gun and shot her in the forehead. One single shot. She fell to the pavement, her blood pooling darkly. Those walking by side-stepped to avoid staining their regulation shoes. 
 
 In death, she lay and simply gazed at the sky. In life, it would have been one more rule violated. 

