Tap, tap, tap, the alarm clock still says 6:00. 12 years has it always say 6:00, although it is plugged in. “Oh well, today is the new day!” I say out loud, getting out of the sheets from my bed, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the radio. “It is 6:00 everyone living down in Brook Hills, hope you have a wonderful new day with this new jam!” the radio announcer says. The same song I hear everyday plays on the radio as I grab some lettuce. “I love this song, never gets old,” as I started to carve the lettuce and put it into the Cookinary. The Cookinary was a unique machine, able to turn certain foods into different foods through a weird process no one understood in this town, but it worked and that is all that matters. After a few minutes, the lettuce turned into my breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, and potatoes. “Welcome deliciousness, I would like you to meet my mouth,” I eagerly smile as I start to eat my meal and head out of my house.
Brook Hills is a rather interesting community, only holding 6 houses in a circle with the entrance in the front of the town. Only thing is that the entrance is a long road that leads to the houses arranged around the circle. The design choice was intriguing, even more intriguing was the color of the houses, with mine red and everyone else’s white. My house was special because of it, but I never understood why. Jerry was out front watering the grass as usual, staying in place as the water is soaked up. “Hey Jerry, how is the family buddy?” no response was given back. I chuckle, “I love your enthusiasm, hey, we still up for bingo tonight, we have been planning it for years now,” still no response. “That isn’t a no either, alright buddy, I’ll see you later,” and I left him standing there motionless watering his grass.
I went to Marsha, who has the garden in her backyard, the Gardenary. Similar to the Cookinary, no one understood how it worked, but everyday, fresh lettuce will be made no matter how many I pick. It replenished itself in a mysterious way, but my way of life took it gratefully instead of questioning the luxury. “Hey Marsha, I’m back for my routine gardening,” she was reading the newspaper like she did everyday, sitting in the kitchen, left chair, legs crossed, blue dress, red bow, everyday. “Say, I have been thinking about us, and how you mean so much to me besides the Gardenary, so I am proposing to you, if you would like to, if you would like to date me?” No response from her, still reading the newspaper. “Playing hard to get huh? When you are ready, call me, you know where I live,” still no response from Marsha. “Alright, I am going to do the gardening now, talk to you later,” and I walked out with her still reading the paper, never looking up once ever since I met her.
After gardening, I went to put my new batch of lettuce away in the fridge, and then I started the routine. Say hi to little Pete, who is always riding his tricycle in the front yard of the Garcia family, although the child never moves on the tricycle. Chat with the Johnson family where John and his kids always play cards with his two kids, Laura and Tyler. What is a strange coincidence I notice is that they always have the same cards every time I visited them, and I never was told the game they were playing? John’s lovely wife Tina was always preparing a meal for them in the kitchen, as usual. Then knock on the William family’s door, which was always locked for some reason, and greet their dog, Bull, who always stayed alert in front of the house, concentrating so much that he doesn’t even move or flinch when I try to scare him. I always thought it was strange how everyone dressed the same way, the guys would wear a blue tunic with regular jeans and black dress shoes while the women wore a blue dress with a red bow in their hair. I never questioned their style of fashion, because I am the odd one out, wearing a red tunic, with pale brown jeans, like I do everyday, for so long.
After I prepare my lunch in the Cookinary, a hamburger with fries, I went to the Restrinary, another strange luxury we were given in Brook Hills. It was a restroom, with built in technology to basically clean yourself with little to no work for you to do. Step onto the stand, have the Restrinary brush your teeth, wash and comb your hair, apply deodorant on you, wash your face and clear any dirt off of it along with pimples, and you are ready in two minutes. After I am done, I head down to the living room where, as always, I try to turn on the television but it never seems to work. I head over to my bookshelf, which for some dumb design decision, was filled to the brim with the same four books. I chose my favorite book, The Man on the Moon, a story about a man, who is left alone on the moon, having no contact with anyone else, and he must survive for so long. I read this book about 245 times and it never gets old. After reading some chapters, I head to Tom’s gym, which he has no problem allowing me in. I work out with him, except I am doing most of the work while he looks like he is benching. He always stays lying there all the time, and it isn’t fair cause I want to use the machine as well. Once that is done, I head back home, which it is nighttime by now, and prepare dinner in the Cookinary, a nice meaty steak with mashed potatoes and carrots. The Cookinary is a miracle, allowing me my favorite meals. I finally go to sleep after I am done taking a warm bath in the Restrinary, and I start the whole routine again in the morning.
The next day, after preparing the same breakfast, listening to my favorite song, and tapping the alarm clock, I headed out of my house to spot a dog. The first dog I have seen in years besides Bull; nevertheless, the first visitor in Brook Hills as far as I can remember. What is strange is the dog was wondering around, looking at everyone else, investigating Jerry and his lawn, and little Pete with his Tricycle. “Hey there… uh, dog, are you lost?” the dog looked at me when I asked, starting to wag his tail and come closer. “I bet you are… umm…” I stared at the dog, trying to figure out what it wants, “are you… hungry?” the dog just kept wagging it’s tail.  “Alright, let me go and get you something to eat, yeah. I’ll be right back,” I started heading across the circle to Marsha, but the dog followed me. “No, no, you need to… umm, stay here and… stuff, so stay!” I barked at the dog, starting to make my way again to Marsha, and the dog continued to follow me. I pondered what I should do with the animal, but then I realized something. The William’s family keeps Bull on a leash, so I went to create my own leash. I headed back to my own house, with the dog following, and grabbed two of my belts, and headed back outside with the dog. I wrapped one of my belts around the dog’s neck, buckled it, took the end of the other belt and tied it to the first, ad then wrapping the second belt around my mailbox, finishing the makeshift leash with a buckle. “Stay here,” I told the dog looking curious at me, “I am going to return so don’t worry.” I went over to the Gardenary, not talking to Marsha which I feel bad, grabbed some lettuce, returned to my Cookinary, and started to carve the lettuce. I didn’t know what the cook for the dog, and it was lunch time, so I just made two hamburgers with two batches of fries, one for me and the other for the dog. I went back outside to the dog, and gave it the plate for his meal. I hoped that was what the dog wanted as I ate my meal, but the dog just grabbed the burger patty and ate it, not touching the fries or eating the buns. Steak! It must be hungry for steak. I put its plate aside in the kitchen and prepared some steak for the dog. When it was done, I served it to the dog on a plate where the dog gratefully ate it. Now I know what dogs eat.
“You know, I like you a bit dog. And I was thinking,” I started to chew on my meal before I could finish, “I was thinking I could make you an official residence of Brook Hills, what do you say?” The dog barked happily at me, “Alright, so, you will be with me, and if you will be my pet, we need a name for you,” the dog looked curious at me. “How does… how does Destiny sound?” the dog turned its head at me, “yeah doesn’t sound good, how bout Georgia, Clarissa, Brandy, Perry?” The dog still looked at me in confusion. “Oh I got it, Destructor!” The dog whined a little at the name, putting its head down. “Yeah that wasn’t even close, how bout Wanderer?” I tell the dog. At this name, the dog looked gleefully at me, shaking its tail at the sound of the name. “Alright then, Wanderer it is,” and the dog came up and started to lick me. “OK, OK, I get it, it is a good name, let me show you around the neighborhood,”
I unraveled the belt that was tied to the mailbox and started to walk around with Wanderer. “Hey Larry, meet Wanderer, I adopted him when I found him, isn’t he such a good boy?” Larry didn’t move from watering his grass. “OK, I am sorry, I forgot you are busy, we will go move on,” Wanderer gave me a strange look as if I was crazy. “Was is it boy, oh, you want to meet Bull don’t you? Alright, let’s go to Bull,” we made our way towards Bull, still on alert as usual. Wanderer started barking at Bull, which Bull made no movement at the sight of Wanderer. “Wanderer, cut it out, it’s Bull, he is your friend,” Wanderer went up, sniffing Bull, then he knocked Bull over, making a hollow thud sound and having Bull stiff, not moving from the ground. “Hey! That is not nice Wanderer,” I went to pick up Bull, “you don’t treat others like that.” When I grabbed Bull, he was lighter than I thought, having a rough and weird texture on the skin like I was touching furniture. “Bull? Are you ok?” but Bull remained stiff, not moving. I put my ear against Bull and knocked on him a little, another hollow thud. He isn’t real, but made out of plastic. I drop Bull, horrified at what I have discovered. I dropped Wanderer’s leash and ran towards Larry, looking back at Bull. “Larry! Larry! There is something terribly wrong going on right now,” I crash into him, his arms and head fly everywhere. “Oh my god! Larry! I…” I examined the body parts, discovering they were parts of a mannequin. I ran towards Marsha, my closest friend, surely she would. Wanderer followed me as I approached her, “Marsha, please! You have to help me, I think I am going crazy!” She continued to read the newspaper. “Marsha, please answer!” she still stared at the newspaper. “Marsha!” I shook her around, with her arms falling off. She was a mannequin too. “Is there anything real in this town!” I see the newspaper. I started to read what the newspaper said.
“The opening of Brook Hills, which started in 1968, will be postponed until 1988, due to an increase of tensions to start another World War. Brook Hills will be used as a nuclear test site to study the effects of radiation against modern life. Until the date comes, research will be studied with residents inside to for research on this new style of living. After a year, residents will be evacuated and replaced by test dummies for further research. Brook Hills will remain private and unavailable to the public at this point.”
I ran outside with Wanderer, for a sudden thought came to mind, break into the Williams house. Surely they must know the answers of they have been so private this whole time. I started to scream, “William!” bashing against the door, using anything I can: lettuce, Pete’s tricycle, then finally Tom’s weights, which broke through the door easily. Inside there were some computers, monitors, and the place was empty. No one was visible inside. I headed down to his garage where a real car was inside along with the keys. I put Wanderer on the passenger’s side as I started the engine. I didn’t realize that I never knew how to drive, so I burst through the garage door, zig-zagging across the circle, then started down the entrance. I went at full speed, cause I wanted to escape this insane place, this place that kept me for so long alone, with no one to talk to, to survive on my own. I was the man on the moon this time, but now I have Wanderer by my side. I crashed into the gate, creating a huge dent in the gate and in the car.  I needed to do a second round at it. Turning around, making my way back to the circle, I saw my whole life. I saw the white houses, Marsha’s newspaper, little Pete in the front yard of the Garcia’s house, Tom’s weights on the ground, Jerry dead all over on the ground, the lie that William was a real person, and the red house that I lived in for 12 years. I broke through the gate this time around venturing out into the vast dessert that I never knew existed around me.
I turned on the radio “It is 6:00 everyone living down in Brook Hills, hope you have a wonderful new day with this new jam!” I look at Wanderer, “this is the worst song ever.”