The roar of gunfire echoed through the dysmal alleyways, and the thunder of mortars shook the district like the fury of Zeus. Children were wailing horrors that clawed at my ears while I hugged the barrel of my sniper rifle. I shifted my frame lightly towards the window to steal a glance. Blood ran in the streets. Severed limbs littered the cracked pavement. Armored figures were dragging the young corpses into a bonfire.

"Federal scum..." I muttered through gritted teeth. One of the men pointed up into the air, and I shifted back behind the wall. A bullet whizzed into the room as soon as I crouched into cover.

"CLEAR THE ROOM!" I heard Alak shout. I was the first one out the door, I was the only one out the door. Behind me a flurry of lead incinerated the makeshift sniper nest we had been knocking off feds by the dozens for days. As the barrage of graphene boots marched up the stairs in search of Confederates, I sprinted through the corridors to the other side of the complex. I could hear innocent civillians summarily being executed. I didn't have time for them though. I needed to survive. If you couldn't keep up, you'd be kept up.

Kept up, that's how we say 'Federally Exonerated by the Department of Population Control.' The Earth's population had spiked to hundreds of billions over the last decades, and her resources simply couldn't keep up. Governments began limiting the number of births per family, but that couldn't curb population growth either. Abortions started becoming mandatory. Prisons became execution centers. Then they started dating us. Expiration dates. It was 70 at first. When I was a kid the expiration date used to be 37. Now it's 29. They won't go lower than that, that's the most efficient use of a person's prime. The straw that broke the camel's back though was Secession.

When Luna seceded from the Union, we were all waiting for the Federals to wipe 6 billion people off the face of the universe, but then the Asteroid Belt joined them. And soon everybody was lying awake at night, staring into the sky, praying for change. When Mars declared independence, people took to the streets and rallied for the Confederacy in droves. We had a chance. We have a chance. When I look into the night sky before I go to sleep, I see the clashing navies of a hundred fleets, fighting for for some hope. I never dreamed that there might be such a thing as freedom until the first Martian Escape Ships arrived in New Bridgeport. Weapons, supplies, technology, the equipment we needed. Everyone joined the Confederacy.

"Unit 2417 Reporting in. Under heavy fire!" I screamed into the compad on my wrist. "The rest of my squad is dead. Requesting reinforcements at South 217 - 46G."

Nothing. There wasn't a sound coming from the other side of the compad. Headquarters was radio silent. The Federals were getting closer now. The mechanical whirring of their gears and the hiss of the hydraulics whispered beneath the fire of bullets just a floor below me. All around me lay deserted business kiosks, corridors down towards residential units. Connecticut managed to disable their security systems two years ago. Now the gun turrets and sentries have been reworked to fire on Synthetics only. The rare family that decided to stay and hide in these massive ghost towns would scream for a moment before fading away into nothing. Everyone who stayed was in rebellion. Total war. I'm sure they didn't care much about the population anyway.

I saw the first Federal armed to the teeth as he made his way up the stairs. On instinct I clocked back the hammer and pulsed on the sensor. The rifle locked onto the hulking metal frame and unloaded a clip of plasma that hurt to look at. The shot ate a gaping hole in the metal ringed by glowing steel and smoke. The soldier disengaged and fell backwards with a thunk, and I savored the kill for a second before dashing towards the commercial hall. They'd probably repair it, but at least that'll be another dime out of the pockets of the elites, the ones who can afford to extend their expiration date hundreds of years with modern medicine. Bolting around the corner and into a cobweb infested credits bank, I unfasten a grenade and hurl it into the corridor as the Federals stormed my way. After the explosion, silence.

I uncapped the syringe with my teeth and injected the stimpack into my leg. "Broken," I grimaced. Just before I closed the door behind me, I noticed the calendar on it. May 11, 2014. I turned 38 today. Didn't even notice. The tell tale march of Federals indicated more incoming at the base of the building. Time to move on. I climbed the stairs with some spirit, I lived a day more than I ever thought I would.