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Sector 7-C

The Future is Always Right Around the Corner

By M.R. CameoPublished 2 years ago 10 min read
17

Earth 2064, the remaining population confined to ten secure sectors across the globe. Major cities with state-of-the-art surveillance and cutting-edge safety protocols. The planet home to under 7,100,000 human inhabitants, 7,000,000 contained in the sectors, with miscellaneous breakneck dissident groups precariously residing throughout the treacherous outlands. D.A.L.E.F.S. (Doctors and Law Enforcement for Safety) an emergence of medicine and law has been created to ensure the populaces continued safety and survival.

Vara clutched her coffee. Hair tied into a staunch bun, a D.A.L.E.F.S. badge prominently displayed on her white lab coat, with the words ‘For You Safety’ emblazoned on the opposite pocket. She was in the last generation of natural-borns, named by those who birthed them. Natural births were now outlawed, as they were barbaric, unsafe, and a threat to the environment. Everyone within the sectors was sterile anyhow, but there was word of breaknecks who still attempted to partake in the savage practice. Humans were now created in the lab, under controlled conditions, given proper medicines and procedures to guarantee a secure uniform creation free from diseases, gender, and handicaps, ensuring an equal and just society.

“This came down from Brexler”. Sam24-7-C placed a minidisk on Vara’s desk.

Files of B.B.C. (Bring Back Humanity) a high-risk resistance group known for its terroristic ideologies bombarded her screen. The group was believed to be hunkered down in a locale less than two hours away. This put the sector in danger, if anyone were to find out such news there would be mass panic. Luckily all the media was rigorously controlled in order to only feed the populace with preapproved information. Vara couldn’t understand how this hadn’t always been the case. People being able to easily access information was certain to lead to inflamed passions, violence, and disobedience. Thankfully she hadn’t had to live through such times.

She equipped her tranquilizer gun and medical kit before joining the rest of the anti-terrorism unit for Sector 7-C. Today they were going to expel a perilous organization that was a plague to society. The B.B.C. refused to enter the future, stuck on archaic falsehoods that put everyone at risk. How they’d become so misled to believe that they had the right to endanger others, run widely like medieval beasts, and ravage the Earth of its resources as they pleased, was undeniably repulsive.

“The information leads us to a small encampment here,” Darius gestured at the screen. “Their leader is unknown. They’re armed and dangerous, known for extreme acts of violence. Our intelligence leads us to believe that there are between 300-500 in the camp, aged between infants to seventy years of age.”

Gasps and grumbles filled the room. Organic infants aside, humans aged past fifty was a travesty. In the World Sectors people were promptly euthanized on their fiftieth birthday. It was a necessary sacrifice that respectful and caring humans were willing to make. Humans lose their productivity and contributions to society as they age, quickly becoming a drain on resources and others, therefore it had been universally agreed upon. New bodies with increased vitality replaced them, and the doctrine of keeping the population of the sectors under 7,000,000 was maintained.

“I know many of you have never worked outside the sector before. The world out there is not something anyone should have to see; any sense of safety or logic will be out the window. But we know that we must make this sacrifice for the good of all. They will likely attempt to resist and use deadly weapons, and if that becomes the case, we will retaliate correspondingly. With that said, we want them alive and undamaged if possible so we can analyze them. At the very least we will be able to utilize the bodies to further advance our cherished medicine. You know the drill. Tranquilize them, vaccinate them with PVSUPRESS17, transport them to processing.”

-

Vega sat with her newest partner Jess97-7-C in their miniscule uranium powered squad car. Scoping the scene caused their stomachs to turn, never having seen so many crimes and grotesqueries their whole lives combined. The ground had been damaged in order to grow real crops, there was a rainwater collection system set up to steal water for personal usage, repulsive vehicles dependent on loathsome gasoline were sprawled across the landscape, with hundreds of outmoded shelters set up in the distance.

“Wow we got some real sickos here”.

“Yeah,” Vara shook her head in disgust.

“Of all the preposterous things these breaknecks do, I am always taken aback that they still grow food like Neanderthals. Why destroy Earth and chance all the risks of natural food? All the bugs and diseases, it’s just disgusting”.

“It’s plain selfishness and ignorance is what it is. Synthetic food is made in a safe controlled environment with just the nutrients necessary. Before, all humans were obese and dying from diseases found in natural foods. Their lack of intelligence is what caused millions to perish in twenty-three, they should have been depending on lab grown food several decades before.”

“Don’t I know it. These extremists are asinine. I honestly don’t understand how they haven’t all died out by-”

Vara and Jess97-7-C fell into formation upon receiving the go command over their brain-links. The older squad members took the front, their age making them more expendable. A hellfire of bullets grazed the frontlines dropping several D.A.L.E.F.S immediately. Vara recoiled, never before witnessing violence in real life. The bodies of her people continued falling as gunfire hailed from every direction. Catching sight of a Sector 7 helicopter, she sprinted before taking cover behind the squad cars. A mini missile hit the ground, effectively destroying most of the shelters and gas guzzlers. A warhead retaliated taking down the helicopter.

Vara peered around in a daze, never imagining seeing something like this in her lifetime. All the deaths wasted; these bodies wouldn’t be able to be salvaged for medical research after their damage taken. A D.A.L.E.F. struggling to their feet in the distance caught her eye. As she began towards them a stream of shots knocked them down. She dived to the ground.

She became alarmed as she saw two man exit one of the shelters and begin to walk through the mass of bodies. One of them bore a large beard and was adorned with several weapons; the other wore a leather coat and was brandishing an AK-47. He walked with an air of ignorance, full of passion, and egotism.

“This one’s still alive”. The bearded man pulled Vara to her knees and shoved a Luger in her face.

“Don’t!” The leather-clad one shouted. “Go check on the supplies. I’ll take care of this”.

He got down on one knee and gazed at her. His eyes a fervent brown paradise met hell ride, so bottomless that looking into them seemed physically painful. An antiquarian heart shaped locket dangled from a chain on his neck.

“Get up”.

She hesitated. He latched onto her arm and forced her to her feet. Snatching her tranquilizer gun, he gave her a look of disgust. Leading her into an unsettling structure derived from wood, he cuffed her to the leg of a strange iron mechanism seemingly intended for heating purposes. A terrorist slogan was painted on the wall, Compliance is Not a Virtue.

-

She awoke hours later upon hearing the door open, having been left in the rustic room for most of the day without any indication what they intended for her. She stared at the leather-clad man endeavoring to ascertain his motives, but knew better than to think you could ever understand a breakneck. They were tempestuous senseless creatures with no sense of order or care for the greater good.

He sat down beside her and attempted to hand her a mug of foul-smelling liquid.

“Something to warm you”.

Vara shivered realizing how cold it had become, but the thought of consuming nonsynthetic food was too awful. He sighed, placing the mug on the windowsill behind her, before running his hands through his few inches of coffee shaded hair. He sat silently as if swimming in a labyrinth of deliberations. He glanced at her. Hair unkempt, strands fallen from her bun, the white uniform stained with the blood of others, but her eyes essentially blank.

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

He laughed. “Better question. Why couldn’t you people just leave us alone? Why do you feel you must control every single person on the planet? You have your little totalitarian paradise, why not just let us be free?”

Free. You people are ignorant. Freedom is dangerous and illogical. It is the reason for the great collapse of twenty-four. I guess freedom justified the exploitation of the Earth, the spreading of deadly viruses, the millions of cruel deaths of year from violence. You Neanderthals are a direct threat to everyone!”

“Neanderthals!” He grabbed her chin roughly and glared at her before pushing it away. “You have been brainwashed beyond comprehension. Humans are meant to have liberty, freedom of choice, the right to live how they desire. You believe it better to keep us chained, under medical tyranny, to sacrifice everything that makes us human, that makes life worth living, in exchange for safety. A ship may be safe in the harbor but that it is not what ships are meant for”.

Vara squinted at him unable to comprehend his crazy ranting. All she wanted was to be back in Sector 7, where she would be safe and around those with common sense.

“Are you even able to grasp what I am saying? Or have you undergone so many treatments and behavioral exercises, that it just goes right over your head?”

“I…” Vara pursed her lips contemplating what to say, resolute on returning home.

“It’s getting cold. I’m going to fire this up. If I uncuff you will you stay put? I think you know you don’t have much of a choice.”

“I thought you were all about choice”.

-

Weeks passed with Vara stuck at the compound. Her anxieties high, having had succumbed to eating organic matter and being forced to be around those who hadn’t had their biannual vaccinations in who knew how long.

“I’ve asked you before and received no answer. Why haven’t you killed me Volt? Why are you keeping me here?”

“If I can recruit someone to the cause, all the better. The bigger our numbers get, the more of a chance we have of regaining freedom on this planet. I hoped that once you saw how we lived, what we stand for, that you might possibly open your eyes to reality. This is real life; this is truly living. Yes, there are risks, but that is what makes life exciting and worthy. Our bodies natural, fueled by the Earth’s bounty and not poisoned with various chemicals. No one is forced into doing anything just to make someone else feel safe, we just live to the fullest knowing each day could be our last. Do you understand Vara?”

He grasped her hand sparking strange sensations. Physical contact was known to lead to irrational emotions and delinquencies so it was forbidden in the sectors.

“I am trying to understand”.

-

Several months went by, Volt treating her respectfully and attempting to earn her trust.

“Thank you”. Vara smiled one night. “I do understand”. Volt looked surprised; his face overcome with a whirlwind of emotions. “You are selfish”. Vara wielded the tranquilizer gun she had found earlier and shot Volt without hesitation. She straddled him as he lay helpless on the floor and pulled out a vial of PVSUPPRESS17.

“No please, please don’t. I’d rather die”. He struggled. She flaunted the syringe as tears escaped him. It penetrated his arm, the cocktail inundating his body. She watched as the humanity left his eyes. It was for the safety of all. Humanity was pesky and uncontrollable, something we all needed to sacrifice to attain a world that was dependable, just, and protected. A world exempt from fear.

Short Story
17

About the Creator

M.R. Cameo

M.R. Cameo generally writes horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and nonfiction, yet enjoys dabbling in different genres. She is currently doing freelance work for various publications.

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