Shadowed Mewtwo
12th February 2004, 05:06 PM
*pops in* Hello! Long time no see! ^^;; I'm afraid the world has me in its snairs, but I have not forgotten this place! I am currently working on something to write in the summer... (Weak Might has died. Sorry peeps, but I don't have the heart to write about Ashes... :( He died long ago. ) It'll be new and exciting ^^ And perhaps I'll make a special website just for it!
This is a short story, sci-fi, that I did for school. It's full of symbolism and is about people. I've ben told it's very good. :) With a little tinkering, it might be good enough to enter a real writing contest!
Hope to see you guys again soon! *waves*
*trots off*
~Smeared Gray~
The hallway was very white. It’s bleached surface and brilliant lights created an atmosphere of unnatural purity, as though the hall were not of Earth. It was long and flawless, every brick and tile impossible to improve; perfectly straight walls stretched just the right length for its wing. The only blemish was a neatly labeled map of the rest of the building, whose purpose gave it the right to be there.
Further down the passage turned and faultlessness ceased; the pearl tiles were partnered with black, and the same foreboding shade lined the once beautiful walls. The lights had gained an ugly, faded yellow tint that made the place look unclean, especially when compared to what it adjoined. One had gone out. Another seemed unsure whether to be on or off.
This hallway ended at a dark flight of stairs. The ground here was not tiled but lay as bare cement, colored over in the checkerboard pattern to make it match the hall. The painting was messy. The black and white squares were smeared gray in some places, and the cold cement wall lacked any paint at all. To cover this, the stairway had been filled with hanging clocks, all which ticked in unison. Their keeping of the passage of time echoed eerily through the empty building.
At the bottom of the staircase, all attempts to decorate had ceased, leaving the cold abandoned mazes of hallways a bleak, splotchy gray. There was hardly any lighting, no windows, no doors. The place was filthy, empty, and forgotten. Yet of all the hallways of all the empty building, here there stood a single, solitary man. He leaned against a mop, staring at nothing. He had been that way for hours.
The man was young with mouse-brown hair and dark eyes. His wan skin clung tightly to his thin frame, causing the white clothes he wore the hang loosely on his shoulders. Striking out sharply against the pallor of his bony cheek lay the black letters N-P, and through the thin material of the shirt the numbers 155-60 were visible. He looked into the darkness with bloodshot eyes, and smiled for no reason at work he’d never done. A bit of drool oozed down his chin.
The distant clocks’ monotonous pulse of time was suddenly disrupted by the soft sound of footsteps upon the cement floor. As they grew nearer, the voices of two men could be made out, both engaged in conversation.
“—the perfect one for it. I usually leave him to clean here, but he’s not made to be a janitor.”
“I can tell…”
“Well, he tries! But you know how these types can be, especially when they’re as mentally—”
“Yeah yeah, we’ve gone over this! I know he’s what I’m looking for by what you say, and I am intrigued, but I don’t buy a product until I see it.”
“Of course! That’s why I brought you down here. He should be somewhere around—Ah!”
A pair of scientists approached and studied the man, who continued to stare, oblivious. The drool on his face made a small ‘plop’ as it hit the floor. The older scientist, noticing the drool, took out a rag from his back pocket and proceeded to clean him up. The contact woke the dazed man out of his stupor. Giving a shudder, he looked quickly at who was wiping his face, smiled wider as he recognized the man and gave a bubbly sort of greeting. The scientist forced a smile back.
“Joshua, this is Mr. Martin,” he said slowly, gesturing towards the younger scientist who stood studying them both.
A brief flash of suspicion crossed Joshua’s face when he first turned jerkily to look upon the scientist, but it was quickly replaced with another slobbery grin. Beaming, he gave a twitch and repeated his welcome. The young man did not return the favor. Instead, he grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled back his sleeve to study the brand. After taking in the numbers, he grabbed the man’s lean face roughly and jerked him close.
“Joshua’s his nickname, I guess?” he muttered, studying the marked cheek. He was answered the affirmative.
After surveying Joshua’s behaviors and appearance, Martin announced his satisfaction, and the two men happily agreed upon a price for the third present. Joshua, unable to understand any of it, entertained himself by blowing bubbles.
~*~
Joshua screamed and struggled against his restraints as a machine pumped the second injection of chemicals into his skull. His brain felt like it was melting. The second dose burned so terribly through him that he vomited, and afterward lay trembling on the hard metal bed. He was close to fainting by the time a pair of men came in and unfastened his bonds, cleaned him up, and clothed him. Once finished, they dragged his limp body to a padded cell and left him sobbing in the dark.
The next day the men came back to find Joshua huddled in a corner, babbling incoherent nonsense at the sight of them. Ignoring this, they fed him, then dragged him to another room covered in white and filled with desks which were occupied by people dressed similarly to Joshua. Through the day the people were given lessons in which they had to name colors. None could remember a single one.
Joshua found himself once again strapped to a machine pumping chemicals into his head, and he felt a pain worse than before tearing through him. It was so bad this time he fainted, awakening later to find himself once again in his cell. The next day he was fed and taken back to the white room to learn.
This pattern continued many months, leaving Joshua’s retarded mind so miserable he didn’t know what to do. The only things enjoyable at all were the lessons, especially when he finally answered something right. Delighted, his teacher had given him a candy as a reward, which in turn made him try harder to remember. As time progressed, learning became easier, as it did for a few other students, and they soon looked forward to every lesson. Joshua learned faster than any of them. Because of this he was moved up into a harder classroom of white walls edged in black. Here he learned things on a touch-screen laptop, complicated things with more similarities than before. Yet between the odd tests and painful injections, these lessons were still the most wonderful thing in his life. They, too, became easier. In fact, they grew so simple to learn that he began to open up other programs when the teacher wasn’t looking, and slowly taught himself how to read. He found reading to be much more entertaining than poking the picture of an object at the sound of its name, and did it as much as he could without getting caught. His surge of intelligence did not go unnoticed, however, and he was moved to another room with nothing to read.
This room was reverse of the previous one, with black walls edged in white. Here he put to use the long names he had learned, and learned how to dissect and organize the innards of tiny, lumpy gray creatures. He’d put their different organs and bones in jars, now learning not with his mind but with the steadiness of a hand. It was simple enough; he quickly “graduated” from his “school” and was sent to his “job” in another part of the building.
At this point, his painful shots had ceased and he got checkups only every once in a while. He was the only one who had made it so far; every other student was still trying to learn mostly basics, and a few were stuck at the complicated names. He had learned to dissect alone, and now he worked alone. Unlike everyone else, he wore his white clothes and some white moccasins to match; they all wore uniforms marked with two blades crossing one another. This difference seemed to make them all uncomfortable around him; nobody spoke to him and at lunch he had to sit alone. The isolation left an empty pang in his chest, yet he could do nothing to fill it but work harder. He began to center everything he had on the quick precision of dividing all the tiny organs perfectly and efficiently, then dropping them in their little jars or tubes. At night, he dreamt of reading books and meeting people, but when day came he pushed his dreams aside and continued to work. His efforts once again made him successful; he got a promotion.
The upgrade of his position put him in better spirits than he had been in a while. He cleaned himself extra thoroughly and made his clothes and hair neat. He made his bed, brushed his teeth, and hastily cleaned his quarters so he could find out what his new task would be. He nearly jogged to his new station, located in a completely different room. It was a dreary, plain cement room, but his other station had been just as depressing to look at, so he paid no attention. Instead, he stood at the table where he was assigned, and lifted a blade. Curiosity filled him as to what this position had one dissect.
The creature that went along the assembly line table was much larger than his other subjects had been, and it squirmed a lot. It was wrapped in a dirty towel so that he couldn’t see what it was, but he heard odd whimpering sounds coming from it. He hoped to himself it wasn’t something that could bite.
The wrapped thing came to a stop before him and wriggled wildly to get free. Reluctant, he glanced at the other workers around him to see if they were attacked. He couldn’t see what their assignments looked like, but they were unharmed. Their blades were swift and sure, and they killed and dissected the animals easily. Reassured, Joshua opened the blanket from his own, and lifted the blade… only to freeze in complete shock. There, before him, lay a human baby, still filthy from her birth. At the bright light and sudden rush of cold air, she began to cry, but the weakness of her voice showed her life was slipping away. Trembling, Joshua dropped his blade and backed away, shaking his head in shock. He couldn’t believe what they were asking of him; he refused! He would not kill a fellow person! What was going on?! He looked again at the dissectors; their faces were dispassionate. They didn’t care that they were murdering helpless babies.
“Number 155-60! Number 155-60! Get to work!”
He looked up dumbly at the intercom from which the voice had come, feeling numb as his mind tried to make sense of what was going on. The cries of the baby were distant, as were the sound of footsteps approaching him.
“What’s the problem?” demanded another worker of higher rank. Joshua turned, stared at him wildly and shook his head, unable to find his voice for words. The other man made a guess.
“You’re new to this job, right? Come from the other room down the hall?”
Joshua nodded dully.
“Thought so. Don’t worry; it’s easy. They’re just squirmin’, that’s all. Their being bigger makes the job easier. Here, let me show ya!”
Joshua wanted to turn away, but found himself staring transfixed as the man took the longest of his blades and jabbed it up the whimpering baby’s throat and into her brain. She gave the tiniest of gasps. As he then began cutting her open and taking out each organ, putting them in their specified jars, she began to grow limp. Joshua stared blankly at a puddle of blood forming on the ground, too frightened to look at the infant anymore as he listened to the clinking of razor tools.
All this time, he’d been killing little people.
“See? It’s easy!” continued the man almost cheerfully as he wiped up the spilt blood. He pushed a button, and another bundle of squirming blankets started towards them. The man pressed Joshua’s bloody blade into his hand and gave him a pat on the back. “You’ll do fine.” Then he walked away.
Joshua stared at the pile of blankets, his face drained as if it had been his blood shed instead of that baby’s. He couldn’t bring himself to open the blanket, couldn’t look into another dying innocent’s face. He glanced around himself desperately, yet found nothing to help him. Unable to stand it all, he snapped.
“NO!!!” he screamed. “I won’t do it! I refuse!” He threw his blade to the ground with hatred and tried to crush it underfoot. Failing, he snatched another look around himself to find everyone staring at him. They all had sharp tools embedded in their assignments or were almost ready to drop an organ in their tubes and jars. All were spattered in blood and thinking nothing of it. So many babies dying… Joshua glanced at his bundle, which was still squirming and whimpering, and without thinking, he grabbed it and took off toward the door.
“Stop! Thief!” he heard someone cry out behind him. Someone lunged at him and grabbed him around his ankles. Joshua twisted his body as he fell so that he didn’t hurt the baby, and kicked at the man as best he could. However, soon he was surrounded by other workers striking him with hand or foot, and as he tried to defend himself, the baby was wrenched from his grasp. With a cry, Joshua battled back wildly to retrieve his child. He punched and kicked everyone he could, and almost made it to the retreating man, but the arrival of guards kept him from doing so. Three big, strong, healthy men grabbed his thin frail body, and no matter how he struggled, his passion could not overcome their power. He was dragged away shouting and fighting to a padded cell, where he was left alone, huddling miserably in the dark.
~*~
The next day Joshua awoke to find himself bound and locked inside a cage. The cage stood upon a stand that sat on a sort of stage. Next to him, scientists were mingling and finding seats for themselves, and below a crowd of people were doing the same. He glanced back at the scientists and watched as one took a larger, more furnished seat in front of a desk with a mallet. The man was young, with cold, impassionate eyes and wore his dark hair slicked smoothly back. Joshua immediately recognized him as the scientist that had bought him three years ago.
After waiting several moments, the young scientist Mr. Martin took his mallet and stuck it against the desk, creating a loud wooden crack that ended all conversation. As those that still stood took their seats, he cleared his throat.
“Welcome, everyone. We are gathered here today to discuss the crimes of N-P 155-60. Mr. Philips, please read the charges.”
Another man stood up and gravely opened a piece of paper. Turning towards the audience, he read clearly and loudly for all to hear.
“N-P 155-60 is charged with the attempted thievery of an organ donor, which would otherwise be used for genetic research. He is also guilty of attacking five people and attempting to escape the facility.”
The crowd remained silent but curious, and the scientists began to mutter to themselves.
“These crimes must not go unnoticed if this experiment is to prove a success. The problem needs to be eliminated. Which raises the question: was this action because of the experiment or the experimented?”
“Experimented!” said one of the scientists in the crowd quickly, “We’ve had another treated with the same diagnosis recently, and he has been working perfectly the past year in another part of the building.”
Martin slammed his mallet to silence the outburst, but nodded thoughtfully.
“This fact is true. The experimented is the problem. However, why did he do it and how can we prevent this from happening again?”
A scientist stood to answer, but another outburst stopped him.
“Don’t make me kill anymore!”
Joshua stood at the front of his cage, trembling with anger as everyone turned to look curiously at him. He felt outraged over the way they were talking about him, how they called him by numbers and talked like he didn’t have a mind of his own. He was caged like some kind of animal on display for a zoo; the television cameras in the back of the room made him feel no better on the subject.
“You made me kill human babies without telling me! I’m a murderer thanks to you! I ran away with that child because he or she was going to die if I didn’t!!”
Martin blinked.
“Nobody’s a murderer here, N-P…”
“Oh, the babies don’t count?! Little people, innocent and new, being killed every hour don’t apply to the definition of murder?!?! Tell me, sir, what does???”
Joshua twitched and gritted his teeth as Martin let out a low chuckle.
“Well, N-P, those newborns aren’t people; they’d have to be accepted by their parents to qualify for that. Only people can be murdered. Non-people, on the other hand, are either put to good use or exterminated. You’ve done nothing wrong there.”
Joshua stood mute and bitter behind the bars of his cage. Non-people. The name caused the branded letters N-P on his cheek to tingle slightly as their meaning hit him.
“No, your thievery is the problem. That and your attempt to escape. You are a non-person, Josh, and non-people are those unworthy of being equal to us,” continued Martin casually, “You have no right to escape.”
The words created a knot in Joshua’s stomach. He looked around at everyone painfully, having trouble accepting the words.
“Why?” he whispered, “Why am I not a person?”
“You were born with an IQ too low for you to qualify, and you were unwanted by your parents. You shouldn’t be alive now, but the law passing babies for genetic experimentation hadn’t been passed yet...”
“But I’m not retarded anymore!” Joshua cut in sharply, his voice strained and his hands shaking, “Surely I can be a person now? I meet the qualifications! I’ve been working: let the baby be my payment and release me!”
“It’s not that simple, N-P,” frowned Martin, “Your increased intelligence is the result of scientific experimentation. Society wouldn’t call it real; it’s just a way for parents to fix any wanted retarded child and to make non-people capable of doing something useful if allowed to grow up. It doesn’t change what you are at all.”
Joshua sank back, staring. He shook his head, muttering, “not fair… not fair…” but had nothing else to defend himself with.
It was determined that he would be on parole for the next two months since he hadn’t actually stolen the baby and his actions were because his lack of knowledge, and the case was closed. Joshua’s depression of the harshness of reality made him mute during this time, as well as when he taken out of the cage and led to his cell. At one point of his walk a woman caught his eye, but her conversation with Mr. Martin did little to cheer him.
“How much would it be to adopt the baby this man tried to rescue?” she had asked quietly.
“Dead already,” Martin had simply replied, and left. They left the room before Joshua could see her reaction, but the words he’d heard only made him feel worse.
~*~
The next three months Joshua had no choice but to kill dozens of babies. He hated it; the sickening tear as he ripped the throat and the feeling of his blade shooting up its head, the handling of its innards and the snapping of its bones amongst its tortured whimpers, but he had no other choice. A pair of guards escorted him everywhere, gave him no escape. He had no rights to refuse. That fact mixed with the never-ending killing wore him thin; made him wish he’d never been bought and made intelligent in the first place.
By the time the parole was over, he was so far spent everything was automatic. He had no knowledge of what he did, so that his actions couldn’t hurt him. All he felt was a dull pain and guilt; he dared no more.
On his first day of freedom Joshua was sent to Martin’s office, where he would be interviewed to make sure he’d learnt his lesson. He was told to wait until Martin had time for him and not to do anything funny by a guard, then was left alone. This isolation woke him a bit; he began to take in his surroundings. The place was very beautiful and large, full of books and chairs and potted plants and computers. His forgotten passion of reading came back, so that he eyed the shelves hungrily, and soon rose to get one. He chose one called The History of Abortion and settled down to read it.
From this book Joshua learned why everything was what it was for him.
Apparently, at first, it was wrong to kill anybody. However, as time progressed, humanity grew overpopulated and began to doubt in things such as religion, so that the need for morality was lowered. Abortions were at first illegal, but at one point it was discovered that women were risking their lives to have abortions illegally. This brought up the need for women’s rights, and the question if it was really wrong to kill unborn fetuses. The first question to answer this was when exactly they were alive. Scientists researched it and answered that this was at the point of conception. So, society raised another question: when were these fetuses actual people? It was decided they weren’t before they were born, so abortion was made legal and morally fine. Later came partial-birth abortion, in which babies were half taken out of their mother and had their brain sucked out. Since they weren’t truly born, it was eventually accepted. Then there was after birth abortion, where people decided that humans weren’t actually people until the age of seven, and that it was fine to kill them beforehand. Humans were also non-people if they lacked minimum IQ, had disabilities where their parents didn’t want them, or were an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy. After all: how was after-birth abortion any different from partial birth? And how was partial birth different from normal abortion?
Joshua shut the book with disgust and returned it to its shelf. He muttered obscenities towards the way society thought as he sat back down, and immediately afterwards Martin came in. Joshua quickly grew quiet, and obediently answered all his master’s questions and promised his loyalty. Satisfied, Martin announced his release of parole.
~*~
Joshua took advantage of his freedom immediately. While he killed the babies, he began to study them. They all had different brands of their faces like his, and he was determined to find out what each one meant. A plan was forming in his mind, and knowing the right label was crucial.
By two weeks he had figured it out: a baby with an A on its face was a perfectly healthy, but still unwanted infant. The others had some disability or disease where they had little chance in the world, but an everyday baby had a real chance for life. That type of baby would be his target. This would be easy; all the babies he worked with were like that.
When everything was ready, Joshua set his plan into action. He began the day working like normal (and hating every second of it), and then went off for lunch. He purchased a strange mixture of meats, mashed potatoes, jello, and different kinds of juice, and sat in the back of the lunchroom where cameras couldn’t see him. There he formed his lunch into the look-alikes of different human organs, and wrapped them in a cloth he had stolen from the Laundromat. These vile sculptures were then put into a large lunchbox he’d also stolen secretly, and he went back to work carrying them nonchalantly in his hand.
He received a baby as soon as he got to his shift, and, with a quick check to make sure nobody was watching, he put it in his lunchbox and set to work “dissecting” the meat sculptures he’d made at lunch. Not wanting to kill anymore infants, he got permission to leave early on the story he was feeling ill, and went to the lunchroom to buy some milk. Choosing the gentlest type he could, Joshua went back to his quarters and proceeded to clean and feed his new foster child. He kept it with him for five days, staying home with the insistence he was feeling a little ill, and made sure it was going to live before he began the rest of his plan. As the baby grew lively and its dark blue eyes lightened to crystal, Joshua decided that night they would complete his plan.
~*~
When the building grew dark and all fell asleep, Joshua wrapped his new son, whom he had named David, and carried him as he left his corridors. He had memorized the map of the building, and using this knowledge, proceeded to the elevator. He had to sneak past every door, and paused once in a while to make sure nobody was following him. At one point he even had to walk slightly crouched underneath a door’s window, for the light was on and he heard voices inside. Other than that, however, everything went smoothly and soon he was descending to the bottom floor with a sleeping David in his arms.
However, when the door opened, much to Joshua’s surprise, there were guards waiting for him.
“Going somewhere?” one said mockingly. Joshua quickly pressed another button to go to the second floor, then another to go to the fifth floor when the door closed in case they saw him. Sure enough, when he stopped on the second floor more were waiting, but it closed before they could get in. The fifth floor was empty. Breathing his relief, Joshua bolted to the stairs to get to the first floor that way. He found them nearby, and quickly descended. Soon he heard the sound of others following him, and urged himself faster. The jostling of his steps woke David up, and the infant began to cry. Joshua tried to hush him as he ran, but it didn’t help; there were guards below him now as well. Joshua ran onto another floor, he’d lost track which, and ran down the hall as fast as he could while David bawled in his arms. He heard the guards coming after him; he dove into the nearest room and hoped it wasn’t occupied.
The room was occupied, but not by what he had thought. Instead of beds or people, it was filled with cages… and non-people. He was surrounded by non-people of all different ages; some stupid, some crippled, and some just plain abused. They all looked at him dully, their thin naked bodies lying limply in piles of straw, and he looked back, unsure of what to do as painful compassion for them filled him. One, a six-year-old, waved and asked politely for a bit of food. He felt terrible as he apologized and said he had none.
Suddenly, there was a rap on the door, and Joshua found himself panicking. The policemen had found him; he’d locked the door, but that wouldn’t stop them forever. For a single terrifying moment his mind groped blankly for an idea, then it came to him. He stripped himself of his clothes, hid them, and sat in one of the few empty cages. He gestured for the little girl beside him to keep quiet, and did the finishing touches on his disguise. He chuckled slightly when it was complete and a quieted David was hidden safely from view.
When the guards broke in, there was an indignant outburst of noise from the caged humans as their door broke down. The head guard shouted for them to be quiet; they immediately complied. He glanced around for signs of the fugitive, but could find no sign of him. So, he sent his comrades to search the cages one way while he went the other. All the caged non-people stared dully at him, and were so lean and filthy they all looked the same. Nonetheless, he grabbed the branded arms of every male to check their number. He checked that of a black-haired man who looked to be blind, several younger boys, and a brown-haired man who’s bad drooling and unfocused stare showed how mentally retarded he was. The fugitive, however, was not present. Wasting no time, the guards left to look elsewhere, putting the door back as best they could.
As soon as they were out of earshot the brown-haired man wiped the drool from his chin and burst out laughing. He smiled as a few others, obviously tickled at the fact that one of their own had out-foxed those higher than them, joined him. He then brushed the added lines to his numbers, which had been disguised as 488-60, and dirt off himself and got dressed. The other non-people chatted with him happily, curious as to whom he was and his mission, and he told them eagerly. They were deeply moved by his quest; they gave him directions out to escape to the bottom floor through the ventilation system and wished him the best of luck for his journey. Joshua thanked them, promised them he’d do his best to help them someday, and opened the air duct they’d pointed out to him. Taking David in his arms, he crawled into the air tunnel, crying out farewells as he went.
~*~
Joshua slept in the airshaft the rest of the night, very much safe from the guards, and fed David a bit of milk he’d saved when he woke. Quickly remembering where he was and the directions he had received, he set off through the tunnels. Two lefts, two rights, left, right, right left… The turns seemed to go on forever. He crawled through them anyway, having no other choice, and slowly spiraled downwards. The opening to the first floor was right where his kin had told him it would be.
Joshua peered through between the bars of the ventilation shaft, checking for guards. They were everywhere; it was going to be difficult to make it outside. They were all pacing around and chatting with each other, though, so if he waited until just the right moment…
As soon as none were looking in his or the door’s general direction, Joshua kicked the vent open and jumped out. He leapt to his feet and shot out the door, the surprised guards too slow to catch him. He had succeeded!
… Hadn’t he? Now that Joshua stood alone and vulnerable in the world, he realized he had nowhere to go. He had never been free before; the sky and earth were wide and crowded with people. At a loss of what to do, he turned to these people, begging them for help.
“Please sir…” he asked, following a man, “my son and I are lost. We need to find shelter…” The man ignored him. Not losing hope, he turned to another.
“Ma’am, my son and I are in dire need of help. Could you direct us—” He touched her arm to stop her; she spun around and slapped him.
“Leave me alone you jerk!” she snapped. Josh grew worried, but he didn’t give up. He turned to another man and grabbed his sleeve gently.
“Sir, please help us! We—”
“Get away from me, loser! Go clean a garbage or something!” Joshua back as he received a painful kick. He watched with hurt surprise as the man walked away, muttering, “Stupid n-p…”
“There he is! Don’t let him get away!”
Joshua spun around to find not only guards, but scientists in a van coming after him. He turned to the people around him.
“HELP!!” he shrieked, running and ducking among them, grabbing them here and there only to be shoved away. “Help us! Please!!! They’re going to kill us!!”
They ignored him.
“Will nobody help?! Will nobody save us??? Doesn’t anyone care?!?!”
The guards came upon him. They grabbed him, bound him, tore his son from his arms. The people walking by took no notice.
“I’m a person! They’re going to kill me! They’re going to murder my son!”
He fought wildly as they dragged him to the now parked van. A scientist came out with some sort of shot and prepared to drug him. Not a soul gave them a glance.
“They’re murders! They kill hundreds every day! Your own kind is being destroyed behind your backs!” The drug entered him. He gritted his teeth in pain.
“Not only infants are being killed! I’ve found children! And adults! They’re hidden away in a special room!” Another drug entered the back of his head. His thoughts suddenly wavered; the world started melting before him. Nobody paused, stopped glanced, as he fell limp then was slowly carried into the van.
“And you don’t even care…” he managed to mutter before everything went black.
My precious David… I have failed you…
The words stung his heart. David had no chance; he was going to die. He was going to be ripped apart for money and his organs were going to be studied. He would never be loved; never have a chance to truly live.
Innocent blood shed mercilessly.
“We’ve come to adopt the baby this man has tried to save,” said a voice through the dark. Joshua opened his eyes slightly, peered through his splotched and wavering vision to make out a woman standing before the scientist who held his son. She stood defiantly with her head held high, obviously not planning on taking no for an answer. Behind her stood a decent sized crowd, all looking as determined as she, as they waited for the scientist’s reply.
“I’m sorry, miss,” snapped the man coldly, “but this non-person is not for sale. He is property of this company.” He nodded to the side of the van where the company’s symbol lay. The woman said nothing, merely fished around in her purse until she found a large amount of folded papers.
“We’ve,” she gestured to the crowd, “made a petition approved by the mayor that your ‘company’ must allow adoptions when a person wants one of your babies. Helps the state’s moral and whatnot. Also, you have to give us the babies dirt cheap.” She shook the papers in front of his reddening face triumphantly. “We have enough signed, the law’s been passed and now we want that baby. How much?”
“Eight hundred,” he snarled.
“Too much,” she nearly sang, “Maybe you don’t understand what ‘dirt cheap’ means. I’d say something like… twenty bucks?”
“Plus tax.”
“Done!” She fished around in her purse some more and pulled out a pre-maid check, apparently having planned for him to say this.
Joshua watched through glazed eyes as his adopted son was handed over to a life of safety and love. He watched some more as the rest of the crowd demanded to adopt both babies and the children they’d heard him shouting about, and all wanted them dirt cheap. As his mind melted and all he had ever learned slowly slipped from him, he smiled.
“Take in your last look at the sun,” snarled a scientist in his ear, “You’ll never see it again!” Yet his joy could not be tainted. He smiled on and on, even when the doors closed him in and he forgot why he was so happy. All he knew, as the vans drove off, was the proud, wonderful emotions inside him as he cheerfully blew bubbles to further entertain himself, his mind forgetting he was there.
This is a short story, sci-fi, that I did for school. It's full of symbolism and is about people. I've ben told it's very good. :) With a little tinkering, it might be good enough to enter a real writing contest!
Hope to see you guys again soon! *waves*
*trots off*
~Smeared Gray~
The hallway was very white. It’s bleached surface and brilliant lights created an atmosphere of unnatural purity, as though the hall were not of Earth. It was long and flawless, every brick and tile impossible to improve; perfectly straight walls stretched just the right length for its wing. The only blemish was a neatly labeled map of the rest of the building, whose purpose gave it the right to be there.
Further down the passage turned and faultlessness ceased; the pearl tiles were partnered with black, and the same foreboding shade lined the once beautiful walls. The lights had gained an ugly, faded yellow tint that made the place look unclean, especially when compared to what it adjoined. One had gone out. Another seemed unsure whether to be on or off.
This hallway ended at a dark flight of stairs. The ground here was not tiled but lay as bare cement, colored over in the checkerboard pattern to make it match the hall. The painting was messy. The black and white squares were smeared gray in some places, and the cold cement wall lacked any paint at all. To cover this, the stairway had been filled with hanging clocks, all which ticked in unison. Their keeping of the passage of time echoed eerily through the empty building.
At the bottom of the staircase, all attempts to decorate had ceased, leaving the cold abandoned mazes of hallways a bleak, splotchy gray. There was hardly any lighting, no windows, no doors. The place was filthy, empty, and forgotten. Yet of all the hallways of all the empty building, here there stood a single, solitary man. He leaned against a mop, staring at nothing. He had been that way for hours.
The man was young with mouse-brown hair and dark eyes. His wan skin clung tightly to his thin frame, causing the white clothes he wore the hang loosely on his shoulders. Striking out sharply against the pallor of his bony cheek lay the black letters N-P, and through the thin material of the shirt the numbers 155-60 were visible. He looked into the darkness with bloodshot eyes, and smiled for no reason at work he’d never done. A bit of drool oozed down his chin.
The distant clocks’ monotonous pulse of time was suddenly disrupted by the soft sound of footsteps upon the cement floor. As they grew nearer, the voices of two men could be made out, both engaged in conversation.
“—the perfect one for it. I usually leave him to clean here, but he’s not made to be a janitor.”
“I can tell…”
“Well, he tries! But you know how these types can be, especially when they’re as mentally—”
“Yeah yeah, we’ve gone over this! I know he’s what I’m looking for by what you say, and I am intrigued, but I don’t buy a product until I see it.”
“Of course! That’s why I brought you down here. He should be somewhere around—Ah!”
A pair of scientists approached and studied the man, who continued to stare, oblivious. The drool on his face made a small ‘plop’ as it hit the floor. The older scientist, noticing the drool, took out a rag from his back pocket and proceeded to clean him up. The contact woke the dazed man out of his stupor. Giving a shudder, he looked quickly at who was wiping his face, smiled wider as he recognized the man and gave a bubbly sort of greeting. The scientist forced a smile back.
“Joshua, this is Mr. Martin,” he said slowly, gesturing towards the younger scientist who stood studying them both.
A brief flash of suspicion crossed Joshua’s face when he first turned jerkily to look upon the scientist, but it was quickly replaced with another slobbery grin. Beaming, he gave a twitch and repeated his welcome. The young man did not return the favor. Instead, he grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled back his sleeve to study the brand. After taking in the numbers, he grabbed the man’s lean face roughly and jerked him close.
“Joshua’s his nickname, I guess?” he muttered, studying the marked cheek. He was answered the affirmative.
After surveying Joshua’s behaviors and appearance, Martin announced his satisfaction, and the two men happily agreed upon a price for the third present. Joshua, unable to understand any of it, entertained himself by blowing bubbles.
~*~
Joshua screamed and struggled against his restraints as a machine pumped the second injection of chemicals into his skull. His brain felt like it was melting. The second dose burned so terribly through him that he vomited, and afterward lay trembling on the hard metal bed. He was close to fainting by the time a pair of men came in and unfastened his bonds, cleaned him up, and clothed him. Once finished, they dragged his limp body to a padded cell and left him sobbing in the dark.
The next day the men came back to find Joshua huddled in a corner, babbling incoherent nonsense at the sight of them. Ignoring this, they fed him, then dragged him to another room covered in white and filled with desks which were occupied by people dressed similarly to Joshua. Through the day the people were given lessons in which they had to name colors. None could remember a single one.
Joshua found himself once again strapped to a machine pumping chemicals into his head, and he felt a pain worse than before tearing through him. It was so bad this time he fainted, awakening later to find himself once again in his cell. The next day he was fed and taken back to the white room to learn.
This pattern continued many months, leaving Joshua’s retarded mind so miserable he didn’t know what to do. The only things enjoyable at all were the lessons, especially when he finally answered something right. Delighted, his teacher had given him a candy as a reward, which in turn made him try harder to remember. As time progressed, learning became easier, as it did for a few other students, and they soon looked forward to every lesson. Joshua learned faster than any of them. Because of this he was moved up into a harder classroom of white walls edged in black. Here he learned things on a touch-screen laptop, complicated things with more similarities than before. Yet between the odd tests and painful injections, these lessons were still the most wonderful thing in his life. They, too, became easier. In fact, they grew so simple to learn that he began to open up other programs when the teacher wasn’t looking, and slowly taught himself how to read. He found reading to be much more entertaining than poking the picture of an object at the sound of its name, and did it as much as he could without getting caught. His surge of intelligence did not go unnoticed, however, and he was moved to another room with nothing to read.
This room was reverse of the previous one, with black walls edged in white. Here he put to use the long names he had learned, and learned how to dissect and organize the innards of tiny, lumpy gray creatures. He’d put their different organs and bones in jars, now learning not with his mind but with the steadiness of a hand. It was simple enough; he quickly “graduated” from his “school” and was sent to his “job” in another part of the building.
At this point, his painful shots had ceased and he got checkups only every once in a while. He was the only one who had made it so far; every other student was still trying to learn mostly basics, and a few were stuck at the complicated names. He had learned to dissect alone, and now he worked alone. Unlike everyone else, he wore his white clothes and some white moccasins to match; they all wore uniforms marked with two blades crossing one another. This difference seemed to make them all uncomfortable around him; nobody spoke to him and at lunch he had to sit alone. The isolation left an empty pang in his chest, yet he could do nothing to fill it but work harder. He began to center everything he had on the quick precision of dividing all the tiny organs perfectly and efficiently, then dropping them in their little jars or tubes. At night, he dreamt of reading books and meeting people, but when day came he pushed his dreams aside and continued to work. His efforts once again made him successful; he got a promotion.
The upgrade of his position put him in better spirits than he had been in a while. He cleaned himself extra thoroughly and made his clothes and hair neat. He made his bed, brushed his teeth, and hastily cleaned his quarters so he could find out what his new task would be. He nearly jogged to his new station, located in a completely different room. It was a dreary, plain cement room, but his other station had been just as depressing to look at, so he paid no attention. Instead, he stood at the table where he was assigned, and lifted a blade. Curiosity filled him as to what this position had one dissect.
The creature that went along the assembly line table was much larger than his other subjects had been, and it squirmed a lot. It was wrapped in a dirty towel so that he couldn’t see what it was, but he heard odd whimpering sounds coming from it. He hoped to himself it wasn’t something that could bite.
The wrapped thing came to a stop before him and wriggled wildly to get free. Reluctant, he glanced at the other workers around him to see if they were attacked. He couldn’t see what their assignments looked like, but they were unharmed. Their blades were swift and sure, and they killed and dissected the animals easily. Reassured, Joshua opened the blanket from his own, and lifted the blade… only to freeze in complete shock. There, before him, lay a human baby, still filthy from her birth. At the bright light and sudden rush of cold air, she began to cry, but the weakness of her voice showed her life was slipping away. Trembling, Joshua dropped his blade and backed away, shaking his head in shock. He couldn’t believe what they were asking of him; he refused! He would not kill a fellow person! What was going on?! He looked again at the dissectors; their faces were dispassionate. They didn’t care that they were murdering helpless babies.
“Number 155-60! Number 155-60! Get to work!”
He looked up dumbly at the intercom from which the voice had come, feeling numb as his mind tried to make sense of what was going on. The cries of the baby were distant, as were the sound of footsteps approaching him.
“What’s the problem?” demanded another worker of higher rank. Joshua turned, stared at him wildly and shook his head, unable to find his voice for words. The other man made a guess.
“You’re new to this job, right? Come from the other room down the hall?”
Joshua nodded dully.
“Thought so. Don’t worry; it’s easy. They’re just squirmin’, that’s all. Their being bigger makes the job easier. Here, let me show ya!”
Joshua wanted to turn away, but found himself staring transfixed as the man took the longest of his blades and jabbed it up the whimpering baby’s throat and into her brain. She gave the tiniest of gasps. As he then began cutting her open and taking out each organ, putting them in their specified jars, she began to grow limp. Joshua stared blankly at a puddle of blood forming on the ground, too frightened to look at the infant anymore as he listened to the clinking of razor tools.
All this time, he’d been killing little people.
“See? It’s easy!” continued the man almost cheerfully as he wiped up the spilt blood. He pushed a button, and another bundle of squirming blankets started towards them. The man pressed Joshua’s bloody blade into his hand and gave him a pat on the back. “You’ll do fine.” Then he walked away.
Joshua stared at the pile of blankets, his face drained as if it had been his blood shed instead of that baby’s. He couldn’t bring himself to open the blanket, couldn’t look into another dying innocent’s face. He glanced around himself desperately, yet found nothing to help him. Unable to stand it all, he snapped.
“NO!!!” he screamed. “I won’t do it! I refuse!” He threw his blade to the ground with hatred and tried to crush it underfoot. Failing, he snatched another look around himself to find everyone staring at him. They all had sharp tools embedded in their assignments or were almost ready to drop an organ in their tubes and jars. All were spattered in blood and thinking nothing of it. So many babies dying… Joshua glanced at his bundle, which was still squirming and whimpering, and without thinking, he grabbed it and took off toward the door.
“Stop! Thief!” he heard someone cry out behind him. Someone lunged at him and grabbed him around his ankles. Joshua twisted his body as he fell so that he didn’t hurt the baby, and kicked at the man as best he could. However, soon he was surrounded by other workers striking him with hand or foot, and as he tried to defend himself, the baby was wrenched from his grasp. With a cry, Joshua battled back wildly to retrieve his child. He punched and kicked everyone he could, and almost made it to the retreating man, but the arrival of guards kept him from doing so. Three big, strong, healthy men grabbed his thin frail body, and no matter how he struggled, his passion could not overcome their power. He was dragged away shouting and fighting to a padded cell, where he was left alone, huddling miserably in the dark.
~*~
The next day Joshua awoke to find himself bound and locked inside a cage. The cage stood upon a stand that sat on a sort of stage. Next to him, scientists were mingling and finding seats for themselves, and below a crowd of people were doing the same. He glanced back at the scientists and watched as one took a larger, more furnished seat in front of a desk with a mallet. The man was young, with cold, impassionate eyes and wore his dark hair slicked smoothly back. Joshua immediately recognized him as the scientist that had bought him three years ago.
After waiting several moments, the young scientist Mr. Martin took his mallet and stuck it against the desk, creating a loud wooden crack that ended all conversation. As those that still stood took their seats, he cleared his throat.
“Welcome, everyone. We are gathered here today to discuss the crimes of N-P 155-60. Mr. Philips, please read the charges.”
Another man stood up and gravely opened a piece of paper. Turning towards the audience, he read clearly and loudly for all to hear.
“N-P 155-60 is charged with the attempted thievery of an organ donor, which would otherwise be used for genetic research. He is also guilty of attacking five people and attempting to escape the facility.”
The crowd remained silent but curious, and the scientists began to mutter to themselves.
“These crimes must not go unnoticed if this experiment is to prove a success. The problem needs to be eliminated. Which raises the question: was this action because of the experiment or the experimented?”
“Experimented!” said one of the scientists in the crowd quickly, “We’ve had another treated with the same diagnosis recently, and he has been working perfectly the past year in another part of the building.”
Martin slammed his mallet to silence the outburst, but nodded thoughtfully.
“This fact is true. The experimented is the problem. However, why did he do it and how can we prevent this from happening again?”
A scientist stood to answer, but another outburst stopped him.
“Don’t make me kill anymore!”
Joshua stood at the front of his cage, trembling with anger as everyone turned to look curiously at him. He felt outraged over the way they were talking about him, how they called him by numbers and talked like he didn’t have a mind of his own. He was caged like some kind of animal on display for a zoo; the television cameras in the back of the room made him feel no better on the subject.
“You made me kill human babies without telling me! I’m a murderer thanks to you! I ran away with that child because he or she was going to die if I didn’t!!”
Martin blinked.
“Nobody’s a murderer here, N-P…”
“Oh, the babies don’t count?! Little people, innocent and new, being killed every hour don’t apply to the definition of murder?!?! Tell me, sir, what does???”
Joshua twitched and gritted his teeth as Martin let out a low chuckle.
“Well, N-P, those newborns aren’t people; they’d have to be accepted by their parents to qualify for that. Only people can be murdered. Non-people, on the other hand, are either put to good use or exterminated. You’ve done nothing wrong there.”
Joshua stood mute and bitter behind the bars of his cage. Non-people. The name caused the branded letters N-P on his cheek to tingle slightly as their meaning hit him.
“No, your thievery is the problem. That and your attempt to escape. You are a non-person, Josh, and non-people are those unworthy of being equal to us,” continued Martin casually, “You have no right to escape.”
The words created a knot in Joshua’s stomach. He looked around at everyone painfully, having trouble accepting the words.
“Why?” he whispered, “Why am I not a person?”
“You were born with an IQ too low for you to qualify, and you were unwanted by your parents. You shouldn’t be alive now, but the law passing babies for genetic experimentation hadn’t been passed yet...”
“But I’m not retarded anymore!” Joshua cut in sharply, his voice strained and his hands shaking, “Surely I can be a person now? I meet the qualifications! I’ve been working: let the baby be my payment and release me!”
“It’s not that simple, N-P,” frowned Martin, “Your increased intelligence is the result of scientific experimentation. Society wouldn’t call it real; it’s just a way for parents to fix any wanted retarded child and to make non-people capable of doing something useful if allowed to grow up. It doesn’t change what you are at all.”
Joshua sank back, staring. He shook his head, muttering, “not fair… not fair…” but had nothing else to defend himself with.
It was determined that he would be on parole for the next two months since he hadn’t actually stolen the baby and his actions were because his lack of knowledge, and the case was closed. Joshua’s depression of the harshness of reality made him mute during this time, as well as when he taken out of the cage and led to his cell. At one point of his walk a woman caught his eye, but her conversation with Mr. Martin did little to cheer him.
“How much would it be to adopt the baby this man tried to rescue?” she had asked quietly.
“Dead already,” Martin had simply replied, and left. They left the room before Joshua could see her reaction, but the words he’d heard only made him feel worse.
~*~
The next three months Joshua had no choice but to kill dozens of babies. He hated it; the sickening tear as he ripped the throat and the feeling of his blade shooting up its head, the handling of its innards and the snapping of its bones amongst its tortured whimpers, but he had no other choice. A pair of guards escorted him everywhere, gave him no escape. He had no rights to refuse. That fact mixed with the never-ending killing wore him thin; made him wish he’d never been bought and made intelligent in the first place.
By the time the parole was over, he was so far spent everything was automatic. He had no knowledge of what he did, so that his actions couldn’t hurt him. All he felt was a dull pain and guilt; he dared no more.
On his first day of freedom Joshua was sent to Martin’s office, where he would be interviewed to make sure he’d learnt his lesson. He was told to wait until Martin had time for him and not to do anything funny by a guard, then was left alone. This isolation woke him a bit; he began to take in his surroundings. The place was very beautiful and large, full of books and chairs and potted plants and computers. His forgotten passion of reading came back, so that he eyed the shelves hungrily, and soon rose to get one. He chose one called The History of Abortion and settled down to read it.
From this book Joshua learned why everything was what it was for him.
Apparently, at first, it was wrong to kill anybody. However, as time progressed, humanity grew overpopulated and began to doubt in things such as religion, so that the need for morality was lowered. Abortions were at first illegal, but at one point it was discovered that women were risking their lives to have abortions illegally. This brought up the need for women’s rights, and the question if it was really wrong to kill unborn fetuses. The first question to answer this was when exactly they were alive. Scientists researched it and answered that this was at the point of conception. So, society raised another question: when were these fetuses actual people? It was decided they weren’t before they were born, so abortion was made legal and morally fine. Later came partial-birth abortion, in which babies were half taken out of their mother and had their brain sucked out. Since they weren’t truly born, it was eventually accepted. Then there was after birth abortion, where people decided that humans weren’t actually people until the age of seven, and that it was fine to kill them beforehand. Humans were also non-people if they lacked minimum IQ, had disabilities where their parents didn’t want them, or were an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy. After all: how was after-birth abortion any different from partial birth? And how was partial birth different from normal abortion?
Joshua shut the book with disgust and returned it to its shelf. He muttered obscenities towards the way society thought as he sat back down, and immediately afterwards Martin came in. Joshua quickly grew quiet, and obediently answered all his master’s questions and promised his loyalty. Satisfied, Martin announced his release of parole.
~*~
Joshua took advantage of his freedom immediately. While he killed the babies, he began to study them. They all had different brands of their faces like his, and he was determined to find out what each one meant. A plan was forming in his mind, and knowing the right label was crucial.
By two weeks he had figured it out: a baby with an A on its face was a perfectly healthy, but still unwanted infant. The others had some disability or disease where they had little chance in the world, but an everyday baby had a real chance for life. That type of baby would be his target. This would be easy; all the babies he worked with were like that.
When everything was ready, Joshua set his plan into action. He began the day working like normal (and hating every second of it), and then went off for lunch. He purchased a strange mixture of meats, mashed potatoes, jello, and different kinds of juice, and sat in the back of the lunchroom where cameras couldn’t see him. There he formed his lunch into the look-alikes of different human organs, and wrapped them in a cloth he had stolen from the Laundromat. These vile sculptures were then put into a large lunchbox he’d also stolen secretly, and he went back to work carrying them nonchalantly in his hand.
He received a baby as soon as he got to his shift, and, with a quick check to make sure nobody was watching, he put it in his lunchbox and set to work “dissecting” the meat sculptures he’d made at lunch. Not wanting to kill anymore infants, he got permission to leave early on the story he was feeling ill, and went to the lunchroom to buy some milk. Choosing the gentlest type he could, Joshua went back to his quarters and proceeded to clean and feed his new foster child. He kept it with him for five days, staying home with the insistence he was feeling a little ill, and made sure it was going to live before he began the rest of his plan. As the baby grew lively and its dark blue eyes lightened to crystal, Joshua decided that night they would complete his plan.
~*~
When the building grew dark and all fell asleep, Joshua wrapped his new son, whom he had named David, and carried him as he left his corridors. He had memorized the map of the building, and using this knowledge, proceeded to the elevator. He had to sneak past every door, and paused once in a while to make sure nobody was following him. At one point he even had to walk slightly crouched underneath a door’s window, for the light was on and he heard voices inside. Other than that, however, everything went smoothly and soon he was descending to the bottom floor with a sleeping David in his arms.
However, when the door opened, much to Joshua’s surprise, there were guards waiting for him.
“Going somewhere?” one said mockingly. Joshua quickly pressed another button to go to the second floor, then another to go to the fifth floor when the door closed in case they saw him. Sure enough, when he stopped on the second floor more were waiting, but it closed before they could get in. The fifth floor was empty. Breathing his relief, Joshua bolted to the stairs to get to the first floor that way. He found them nearby, and quickly descended. Soon he heard the sound of others following him, and urged himself faster. The jostling of his steps woke David up, and the infant began to cry. Joshua tried to hush him as he ran, but it didn’t help; there were guards below him now as well. Joshua ran onto another floor, he’d lost track which, and ran down the hall as fast as he could while David bawled in his arms. He heard the guards coming after him; he dove into the nearest room and hoped it wasn’t occupied.
The room was occupied, but not by what he had thought. Instead of beds or people, it was filled with cages… and non-people. He was surrounded by non-people of all different ages; some stupid, some crippled, and some just plain abused. They all looked at him dully, their thin naked bodies lying limply in piles of straw, and he looked back, unsure of what to do as painful compassion for them filled him. One, a six-year-old, waved and asked politely for a bit of food. He felt terrible as he apologized and said he had none.
Suddenly, there was a rap on the door, and Joshua found himself panicking. The policemen had found him; he’d locked the door, but that wouldn’t stop them forever. For a single terrifying moment his mind groped blankly for an idea, then it came to him. He stripped himself of his clothes, hid them, and sat in one of the few empty cages. He gestured for the little girl beside him to keep quiet, and did the finishing touches on his disguise. He chuckled slightly when it was complete and a quieted David was hidden safely from view.
When the guards broke in, there was an indignant outburst of noise from the caged humans as their door broke down. The head guard shouted for them to be quiet; they immediately complied. He glanced around for signs of the fugitive, but could find no sign of him. So, he sent his comrades to search the cages one way while he went the other. All the caged non-people stared dully at him, and were so lean and filthy they all looked the same. Nonetheless, he grabbed the branded arms of every male to check their number. He checked that of a black-haired man who looked to be blind, several younger boys, and a brown-haired man who’s bad drooling and unfocused stare showed how mentally retarded he was. The fugitive, however, was not present. Wasting no time, the guards left to look elsewhere, putting the door back as best they could.
As soon as they were out of earshot the brown-haired man wiped the drool from his chin and burst out laughing. He smiled as a few others, obviously tickled at the fact that one of their own had out-foxed those higher than them, joined him. He then brushed the added lines to his numbers, which had been disguised as 488-60, and dirt off himself and got dressed. The other non-people chatted with him happily, curious as to whom he was and his mission, and he told them eagerly. They were deeply moved by his quest; they gave him directions out to escape to the bottom floor through the ventilation system and wished him the best of luck for his journey. Joshua thanked them, promised them he’d do his best to help them someday, and opened the air duct they’d pointed out to him. Taking David in his arms, he crawled into the air tunnel, crying out farewells as he went.
~*~
Joshua slept in the airshaft the rest of the night, very much safe from the guards, and fed David a bit of milk he’d saved when he woke. Quickly remembering where he was and the directions he had received, he set off through the tunnels. Two lefts, two rights, left, right, right left… The turns seemed to go on forever. He crawled through them anyway, having no other choice, and slowly spiraled downwards. The opening to the first floor was right where his kin had told him it would be.
Joshua peered through between the bars of the ventilation shaft, checking for guards. They were everywhere; it was going to be difficult to make it outside. They were all pacing around and chatting with each other, though, so if he waited until just the right moment…
As soon as none were looking in his or the door’s general direction, Joshua kicked the vent open and jumped out. He leapt to his feet and shot out the door, the surprised guards too slow to catch him. He had succeeded!
… Hadn’t he? Now that Joshua stood alone and vulnerable in the world, he realized he had nowhere to go. He had never been free before; the sky and earth were wide and crowded with people. At a loss of what to do, he turned to these people, begging them for help.
“Please sir…” he asked, following a man, “my son and I are lost. We need to find shelter…” The man ignored him. Not losing hope, he turned to another.
“Ma’am, my son and I are in dire need of help. Could you direct us—” He touched her arm to stop her; she spun around and slapped him.
“Leave me alone you jerk!” she snapped. Josh grew worried, but he didn’t give up. He turned to another man and grabbed his sleeve gently.
“Sir, please help us! We—”
“Get away from me, loser! Go clean a garbage or something!” Joshua back as he received a painful kick. He watched with hurt surprise as the man walked away, muttering, “Stupid n-p…”
“There he is! Don’t let him get away!”
Joshua spun around to find not only guards, but scientists in a van coming after him. He turned to the people around him.
“HELP!!” he shrieked, running and ducking among them, grabbing them here and there only to be shoved away. “Help us! Please!!! They’re going to kill us!!”
They ignored him.
“Will nobody help?! Will nobody save us??? Doesn’t anyone care?!?!”
The guards came upon him. They grabbed him, bound him, tore his son from his arms. The people walking by took no notice.
“I’m a person! They’re going to kill me! They’re going to murder my son!”
He fought wildly as they dragged him to the now parked van. A scientist came out with some sort of shot and prepared to drug him. Not a soul gave them a glance.
“They’re murders! They kill hundreds every day! Your own kind is being destroyed behind your backs!” The drug entered him. He gritted his teeth in pain.
“Not only infants are being killed! I’ve found children! And adults! They’re hidden away in a special room!” Another drug entered the back of his head. His thoughts suddenly wavered; the world started melting before him. Nobody paused, stopped glanced, as he fell limp then was slowly carried into the van.
“And you don’t even care…” he managed to mutter before everything went black.
My precious David… I have failed you…
The words stung his heart. David had no chance; he was going to die. He was going to be ripped apart for money and his organs were going to be studied. He would never be loved; never have a chance to truly live.
Innocent blood shed mercilessly.
“We’ve come to adopt the baby this man has tried to save,” said a voice through the dark. Joshua opened his eyes slightly, peered through his splotched and wavering vision to make out a woman standing before the scientist who held his son. She stood defiantly with her head held high, obviously not planning on taking no for an answer. Behind her stood a decent sized crowd, all looking as determined as she, as they waited for the scientist’s reply.
“I’m sorry, miss,” snapped the man coldly, “but this non-person is not for sale. He is property of this company.” He nodded to the side of the van where the company’s symbol lay. The woman said nothing, merely fished around in her purse until she found a large amount of folded papers.
“We’ve,” she gestured to the crowd, “made a petition approved by the mayor that your ‘company’ must allow adoptions when a person wants one of your babies. Helps the state’s moral and whatnot. Also, you have to give us the babies dirt cheap.” She shook the papers in front of his reddening face triumphantly. “We have enough signed, the law’s been passed and now we want that baby. How much?”
“Eight hundred,” he snarled.
“Too much,” she nearly sang, “Maybe you don’t understand what ‘dirt cheap’ means. I’d say something like… twenty bucks?”
“Plus tax.”
“Done!” She fished around in her purse some more and pulled out a pre-maid check, apparently having planned for him to say this.
Joshua watched through glazed eyes as his adopted son was handed over to a life of safety and love. He watched some more as the rest of the crowd demanded to adopt both babies and the children they’d heard him shouting about, and all wanted them dirt cheap. As his mind melted and all he had ever learned slowly slipped from him, he smiled.
“Take in your last look at the sun,” snarled a scientist in his ear, “You’ll never see it again!” Yet his joy could not be tainted. He smiled on and on, even when the doors closed him in and he forgot why he was so happy. All he knew, as the vans drove off, was the proud, wonderful emotions inside him as he cheerfully blew bubbles to further entertain himself, his mind forgetting he was there.