Six Years Ago?

Fear. It was the only emotion I felt. Trapped between two soldiers, I was lead towards a fate I didn't know. Unlike watching those gray, plated vehicles drive down the streets of New Detroit, knowing that I would be taken away from my family, I didn't know what was happening here. Month by month, I'd watch as one of the kids was taken out the room, never to come back again. I was the last one left, having only my thoughts to comfort me.

The soldier leading me stopped in front of an elevator. After waving at a camera in the top corner of the hall, the door smoothly slid open, letting us into the small space. After forcing me in, they followed suit. The elevator door softly met the frame, and the box began its descent.

As we slowly climbed down, I couldn't help but panic further. Where'd the other kids disappear to? Where they dead? Would I follow their path? No, they couldn't be dead. You don't collect a generation just do dispose of it. Do you?

The elevator stopped moving, and the door parted with the frame.

The first thing that struck me was the screaming.

The horrible cries and sobs that pierced the walls from every direction, echoing into my heart. I refused to enter this hallway. The soldier behind me pushed me forward, her hand soft against my back. She led me down the hall until we stopped at a door near the very end. The door had a flickering screen in the center, a few words labeling the door: Marshall Risinger - 1012.

The door slid upwards and I walked into the room, leaving that horrible hallway and the soldier behind me. The room was spacious, larger than I expected, but only held a man sitting at a desk that stretched the length of the room. A glass cabinet sat in the back, full of marked vials and containers of various sized. In the middle was a metal chair...with a set of restraints. I turned around but the door had already slid closed. Like a rat in a cage, I was trapped.

The middle aged man who sat at the desk turned and regarded me, "Marshall, please, take a seat."

I made my way to the chair that was in the middle of the room and made myself as comfortable as possible. The man, in his rolling chair, wheeled himself over to where I was sitting and rested his arm on my armrest. His hair was disheveled and he had bags under his eyes.

"Look, Marshall, I'm not going through this presentation again. Bear with me if you will." Eyeing his white lab coat, I could see that the name tag read Dr. Sohel.

He spun around in his chair once, twice, before continuing, "You're going to be administered with three concoctions." I tensed as Dr. Sohel casually waved a syringe around in the air. "I've already seen about one hundred and thirty kids over the last few years, and them fighting back gets tiring. Do you understand?" He raised an eyebrow.

I nodded, partially in sheer terror. For someone about to stick me with a needle, he seemed so nonchalant. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped through my lips, "What for?"

Dr. Sohel smiled, "To ensure that you live." I started to say something, but before I could get the words out he pricked me with the needle. In a matter of seconds everything went numb, from my head to my feet. The world around me started to spin. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth. Sohel strapped the restraints around me: legs, arms and torso, and rolled back over to his desk.

"I'm guessing this is where things get painful?" I turned my head, but couldn't see the doctor.

Dr. Sohel rolled back over with the second syringe, "No, child, not quite." Below the first spot he stuck me with a needle, he inserted the second one. After emptying its contents into my body, he rolled back over, out of my eyesight once again.

Dr. Sohel wheeled his chair back over with the third of the syringes, and the pure sight of it made me reel. Despite my vision being blurred, this syringe was a clear as day. The needle was noticeably larger, and the liquid inside was a vibrant blue. Bubbles swirled inside in an almost hypnotic fashion, leaving me wondering exactly what it was and how it was made. The doctor didn't give me the time, as he injected me without hesitation.

The sensation was vastly different from the other two. Anyone watching could tell, because at that moment I screamed, joining the chorus I heard in the hallway.

|♖|

I came back to consciousness in a room that wasn't the one I remember seeing last. I rushed to sit up, but came to regret that decision immediately. The world began spinning, again, and my head felt like it would crack open right there. I took a few moments to process my surroundings.

I was sitting on a small bed, and the sheets looked like they were drenched in my sweat. I hope it was my sweat, at least. A small, wooden table sat in the middle of the room, two chairs accompanying it. The metal door, as usual, had no window to peer through.

I tried to remember how long I was out. It felt like hours had gone by since I last opened my eyes. I had to move, to do anything. I stood up, and immediately collapsed back onto the bed. Strength I thought I had just wasn't there. Chills ran along my skin, making me shiver.

The door clicked open, and a man in a grey suit strode in, tapping a pen against a clipboard. He had a stern face, and his eyes were as black as night. I couldn't tell how tall he was considering I was sitting down, but it had to be a fair height. Everything about his was polished, from his stance to his shoes.

"1012, how are you today?" A number, is that what I am now?

"Cold, and in pain." I felt that accurately described my condition right now.

I looked up at the man, who returned with the most neutral face I've ever seen. However, I saw a very slight twitch in his right eyebrow. He began jotting down words on the paper attached to his clipboard.

"Marshall," the man addressed me by my name. "What color are your eyes?"

That was an odd question. "They're light brown," like my mother's. I had to grit my teeth. The mother I haven't seen in a while. The mother I might never see again.

"Are you sure?" The man reached into the inside of his suit jacket, and tossed me a small mirror.

I caught it with unsteady hands. Past the boy who looked like indescribable trash, I saw what the man had pointed out. My eyes weren't a light brown, no, they were blue.

A vibrant blue.

The blue of a sky I haven't seen but in textbooks. The blue of the syringe that had pierced my soul hours ago. Most importantly, they were the blue that wasn't the color of my mother's eyes. They didn't only take her away from me physically.

They're trying to take her away from me personally.

"What did you do to me?" It came out as a whisper and it was a poor reflection of the rage building inside of me.

"We did what needed to be done. You'll understand." The man was still scribbling on that damn paper attached to his clipboard.

"No, I won't understand!" Raw emotion carried in my voice. "What did you do me?"

I effortlessly stood up. I felt like I had the strength of the world, but my headache was getting worse by the second. I had to do something before I passed out again. He had to pay. They all had to pay.

I was violated.

Vandalized.

Desecrated.

I lunged forward, running at the man. I brought my arm back for a punch, and, for a moment, it felt like I was unstoppable. I felt in control, something I haven't felt in a long time. My tirade of fury was quickly brought to an end as the man kicked me square in my chest, sending me sprawling.

"You're lucky she wants you all alive, otherwise I'd personally kill half of you myself." While I was having a coughing fit on the floor, the man scribbled on his clipboard once more before bending over to look at me.

"I don't care what condition you're in right now, if you can do that, that you can move on to the next phase of this experiment. Be prepared to move north to a different complex, 1012." The man said those four numbers with malice.

From the floor, I watched the man walk out and slam the door shut behind him. This was my life, I realized. I was stuck as an experiment for the government. I was stuck, and I was helpless.

I was alone.