Heads or tails

Heads or Tails

A glint of light reflecting off of the ax hits my eye, as I swing down with all my might. Tiny, wine-colored droplets catch onto the white marble floor adjacent to my boots. This image would usually make me hurl as soon as I was locked away in the safety of my pod; However, the gruesome act has become so monotonous that I can at least keep my rations down now.

They are people, of course. Even through my painful regression, I am still able to acknowledge that. I stare at the limp body of a man in front of me. These people all had lives before this. I had a life before this. It’s quiet for a moment, Then I can hear my ears pound as if my head is engulfed in water.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, Headsman; you may leave us.” A voice says ahead of me.

As the room around me begins to refocus, I realize the voice originated from one of the many masked council members; each occupying rows of white chairs that complement the glossy floor.

The bright white interior of the room feels sickening when paired with the stench of blood. It reminds me of the eerie atmosphere that used to be in hospitals. Seeing that everything is bright, white, and sterile, yet knowing that tragedy still haunts the halls.

They all stare at me blankly through their masks. We need them to breathe, yet the council masks have a dual purpose, anonymity. They are pure white, covering the entirety of their face during the hearings or council meetings. Other times they are no different than any of us, wearing the typical transparent oxygen masks. A great preventative measure for conspiracy against our outpost leaders. It is not wise to speak ill of the council to any other person, as you might be talking to one yourself. That’s how a lot of them wind up with their heads at the end of my ax.

I fix my posture quickly, stand upright and nod quietly in the council’s direction. The squeak of my boots echo in the otherwise silent room. I reach the large white and black double doors and open them, stepping into the dark navy blue hallway.

I was going about admiring the artwork on the walls when I stopped for one in particular. The painting depicts a woman wearing the same heart-shaped locket comfortably resting around my neck. I grip it tightly in my palms, resulting in a heart-shaped indent in my flesh for only a moment before It slowly dissipates. Like the mark on my hand, love is only just a memory.

They said we had to change. They warned us that if we didn’t, life would never be the same. They were right, of course. “They,” being the scientists that knew we were on a path of no return. Humanity was too arrogant.

In the beginning, humans began making tools to transition from prey to predator. We quickly transcended other living beings the moment our brains developed into the most powerful tool of all. We gained the blueprint to engineer the world beyond survival. But, little did we know, the instrument that kept us on top for centuries would orchestrate our tremendous downfall.

Many of us tried, but it wasn’t enough. At the time, humans were riding the high of feeling invincible. Then everything beneath us crumbled. The deforestation, along with the endless pollution, left us with an almost non-existent ozone layer to protect us from the flare. Toxic spills near the coasts Caused An entire complex ecosystem to collapse due to our ignorance. The coral reefs were the primary food source and income for billions. By then, everyone was panicking, Storing food, building shelters to bunker down in case of war. Those last months before the flare knocked out all communication and the air became poisonous were the last we would know as a society.Now we are all just numbers. When the council is not referring to me as a Headsman, I am just 2226.

I continue stumbling down the dreary, long hall of art until I reach the common area. There is nothing but a desk along with another masked woman called 1270. I see her occasionally at the meal hall. She has shiny black hair and beaming eyes of a hazelnut coffee color.

Oh, The things I would do for a coffee.

She gives me a bright smile through her transparent mask. That would have made me feel cheery if I hadn’t just killed somebody.

“Hi. 2226 please,” I say to the woman dryly.

“Of course, my lady,” she says, still smiling.

I move towards the large metal circle in the middle of the floor and step onto it feeling dizzy and worn out. The circle moves down as the room and the smiling woman disappear from my view.

It’s funny how agreeable everyone can be around here. The residents love this drab underground outpost, and I don’t blame them. I mean, food, water, and shelter are hard to come by. They don’t know what transpires; perhaps that's why they're so happy. I, however, don't have that luxury. I happened to be picked for this job, the same as everyone else and their duties. If I don’t comply, I end up at a hearing, pleading with my case to avoid losing my head. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was an Aquatic veterinarian.

The makeshift elevator surrounds me with cold hard concrete on all sides. It’s a quiet place to think. I remember being anxious when someone would pass on the street, not knowing if I should greet them. Now, my mind is a cold, damp prison. I almost wish someone would take me in chains for a hearing; at least then, someone would listen to my words.

The elevator comes to an opening before I am now able to exit. These halls aren’t covered in art or even paint—just concrete leading one silver door to the next. The doors don't include distinguishing characteristics besides a black number printed on the surface.

More walking. “Ugh,” I mutter to myself in frustration.

The halls are quiet as a mouse, each Friday is the hearing day. There is somehow always someone worth punishing.

For the council to remain anonymous, all other numbers are confined to their rooms for the day. Leaving would mean death.

I finally get to the silver door reading “2226”, quickly opening and shutting the door. My tiny pod, just as I had left it. No bigger than a tool shed with a bathroom conjoined. It Resembles an unfinished basement, the entire space made of nothing but grey concrete. My white bed, dresser, and nightstand are the only contrast of color, besides the posters on my rounded ceiling. I let out a sigh of relief to be back to the only place I can pretend I’m real.

I flop down onto my bed, observing the posters above me fondly.The posters dance with life and color. One is portraying a scene of friends at the beach, belly laughing, spilling drinks, eating greasy burgers. I stare at this one frequently. Palm trees everywhere, white sand covering their feet, shells planted onshore.Never another ocean, beach party, or friend. My world is in the confines of concrete.

My attention goes to my necklace. I waited as patiently as a ten-year-old could for this locket to come in the mail. “Buy a locket, save a turtle.” I became so elated to believe I was helping. That something I did would have a positive outcome. This locket is what inspired my career choice. All I desired was to save lives, and now I take lives away. The irony truly makes me wonder if the universe has a sense of humor. This locket is all the hope I have that I may be a person again one day.

The room spins, and it hits me hard every time. Tears pool in my eyes and fall down the sides of my temples, wetting my hair underneath me. I don’t bother moving any muscle as the salty liquid keeps pouring down. I realize I’m not a hero. In this world, there is no room for morality. We have jumped down the ladder, right back to where we started; survival. I gaze into the ocean of the poster. Bright blue and sparkling.

“Save the turtles? What a joke.” I say aloud.

Finally, I turn to sob into my pillow when someone is knocking on my door. Maybe they heard me, and they’re here to take me. I panic, looking all around my room to ensure it is neat. Besides my bedsheets, there is not an item out of place. Thank god. I walk to the door and creak it open, slightly wincing at the sound. It’s 1270 from the front desk. What is she doing here? She speaks before I have a chance to ask.

“May I come in?” She whispers.

“Uh, I suppose so,” I say back hesitantly.

She hurriedly pushes past me into the room and shuts the door behind us, settling onto my bed.

“What's going on 1270?” I look her up and down to make sure she’s not going to assassinate me the first chance she gets.

“We’re leaving,” she says, looking at me seriously. It’s such a drastic difference from her usual cheesed-up smile I can’t help but be a little taken back.

What is she saying? There is nothing out there for us to run towards. Perhaps a slow death, but that’s about it.

“We can’t leave; that’s preposterous. Do you know what they would do? What I would have to do to you?” I retort.

How stupid is this girl? Thinking this is all a game. If it were that simple, they’d just leave the door unlocked.

“I will meet you here on the next hearing day, same time. I see the look in your eyes; I know you want anything better than this; I know you’re not one of them.” She grins at me in such a hopeful way. She gets up from my mattress and heads to the door once again.

“How would I know that you aren’t one of them?” I yell after her with my hands on my hips.

She opens the door and reaches down the neck of her shirt slightly, revealing a shining silver heart.

“You’ll just have to trust me.”