Clearfield, Utah was a residential community and suburb of Salt Lake City and Ogden. Dallon attended the highschool of the same name. It was the first half of his senior year and the impending end of 1998. The world was a place of constant change and discovery, with technology and pop culture changing at an unprecedented rate. The Internet was still a novelty for many, and the only way to access it was through a slow, clunky modem. Titanic was the highest-grossing film, CDs had far exceeded cassette tapes, and cell phones—those bulky bricks limited to making calls and texts—were becoming more popular.

The hallways of Clearfield High were packed with students as if they were sardines. There was a rushed flow of students going to their lockers and the excruciatingly slow-walking crowds of chattering friends; only to be pushed by the unstoppable traffic behind them. Bulletin boards on the walls displayed endless arrays of announcements and school-sanctioned propaganda. And the cafeteria offered a refuge heavily-processed snacks and drinks with questionable food choices.

Dallon was walking with his backpack slung over him. ‘Unleash the FALCON within’ was overhead on the white wall, a blatant call to school spirit with the utterance of their mascot. He had to refrain from rubbing the wound under his chin. He had recently busted his chin open doing sports, but at least the skin began healing and scarring so that he didn’t have to bandage it anymore. Getting comfortable having the scar was something he was still waiting for, though.

The seventeen-year-old was a good student who was set to graduate with Honors when his graduation came around in the spring. But he was also a talented musician. Dallon was a band member of 1000 West, a band that played in school talent shows and assemblies. The future always held a lot of uncertainties, but Dallon was insistent that he would pursue music. But for now, he had the perceived ‘insurmountable’ task—to all students around the world—of pursuing his academic career.