But
They Need Me
The alarm clock
shrieked in my ears so loudly that they began to ring. I rolled over
silently in the vast, empty space and saw a dull, grey light peering
into the room under the curtains. For a brief moment, sharp memories
of a bright sun shone in my mind, un-dulled by the cloud of smog and
fear around me. It shattered suddenly. I remembered. And I was alone.
I rose slowly and
dressed for my day. I picked up my badge and keys, and turned out the
lights, looking back quickly and wincing. This was it. My last safe
moment for hours. Alone. Quiet. And then, I closed my eyes, and began
unlocking my door, feeling all five clicks in succession, and
mourning the moment. I took a deep breath of clean air, and pulled on
my mask. As I stepped outside, I felt the breeze of the putrid
yellow-brown haze sting my eyes and exposed skin, searing and marking
me with its filth. I locked the door, wincing one last time, and
left.
As I sat in my
car, I felt almost hypnotized by the continual hum of the engine
beneath me. The music pulsed, and the air filtered through from a
palpable cloud of brown mist to clear and clean. I breathed in deeply
as the light stopped me. The car began to still, my breathing lulled
with the music, and I looked up. Six more were chosen. Their
pictures, most beautiful and bright, clung to the air in front of the
billboard. Five were women. Shockingly young and attractive, I
wondered, did they have husbands? Children? And the man? He could
have been my grandfather. Sentenced. All of them. Randomly. And for
no real reason. I felt the hole in my own chest, the heartache that
had no words, and felt for those families. For those people would die
quickly and painlessly, but those left behind would be tormented with
their losses until their own deaths.
Again, memory
came unbidden, with the brightness of the unfettered sun of my
childhood suddenly devoured. We sat together there, in that room, as
The Plan unfolded. There were simply too many of us, they said.
Humanity had effectively begun to destroy itself. The Earth could not
sustain us. People were starving, going thirsty, and we had begun to
blot out the very sun. The solution was simple. The Lottery had
begun. Each person was registered, and no one was safe. Then the
computer would choose who would sacrifice their share of the Earth's
resources that others may live. No one was immune. And I had no fear.
I found myself
unable to breathe. My heart pounded, and the tears streamed down my
face despite my desperate attempts to claw my way out of the memory.
And remembered: I sat in the car, and felt almost hypnotized by the
hum of the engine beneath me. The air filtered in, from a putrid
yellow-brown to a clear, clean wave brushing my face. The light
stopped me, and as the car stilled, I looked up. Six faces clung to
the air in front of the billboard. And as I looked, time itself
stopped. I opened the car door without my mask and wretched violently
into the street. But, I could make it home before they took him. I
could do it. They could take me instead, I thought, as I gazed up at
my husband's face on the billboard. But he was gone. And I was
alone.
I pulled into the
parking lot, grabbed my mask, and silently said goodbye to my family,
my love. Hollow, empty shells of buildings loomed over me, covered in
the putrid brown mist that clung to everything, alive or not. I
opened the door to the hospital to the familiar sound of the hiss of
the air containment, and pulled off my mask, placing it gently in my
bag.
I
walked upstairs and began my rotation. As I entered the first
patient's room, I saw him in the corner, and I ignored the eyes.
But, as I approached the patient, his eyes followed my every move, no
matter how slight, and covered even the bends in my wrists. Still I
ignored the eyes. He paid no heed to my words. And his wife lay
dying.
People passed
through my day, coming and going, some living, some dying, but always
with the eyes until I could go home. I washed my hands carefully,
finding my mask as I felt the haze touch me. The door closed behind
me as I searched for the quiet of my car. And as I drove again, the
continual hum of the engine beneath me lulled me, hypnotizing me.
Again, I watched the murky air transform into clean, clear air around
me. And as the light stopped me, I looked up. More faces in the air.
A beautiful child. More men. And then suddenly I flung open the door,
barely missing my car as I began to wretch in the street again. My
car filled with brown haze, and I could not breathe. I could not
move. I slammed the door shut and whipped around, peering forcefully
into the haze and night. That last face. That last face. It couldn't
be. It could not be. I could not be the sixth.
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