Lights Out

Dawn had broken, the ceiling lights flickered on que. I closed my eyes again and reached up to feel a small bump near my collarbone. The heart locket moved slightly at the touch. My mother shouldn’t have saved it, even if it meant the last piece of humanity to her. It cost her the very life she held dear.

The rules were simple: hold on to nothing from the lives we knew before. It was a cleansing of society, or at least, an attempt.

The light beckoned upon me, rest time was over. I changed into my white shirt, black pants, and shoes -- a beautiful simplicity we all wore. And then there was the mask. A mimic of happiness. The desolate white face with black holes for eyes and a grimacing smile. In the beginning, hatred was all I felt, but now it was as normal as inhaling a breath of fresh air. I strapped it onto my face. It felt humorous to cover emotions that were simply not there anymore.

I stepped outside to find my first neighbor in front of her cubicle, tending to her designated garden box. She noticed me and waved, a familiar mask on her face. I returned the gesture and continued on my way to work. As everyday, it was the same pattern as yesterday.

It felt brighter in the long corridor of tunnels, even more than the designated neighborhood underpass. Maybe it was just me. Maybe the seven had thought more light would be better for us.

Upon arrival at the station, I began prepping. The printer spat out a ticket for the first shipment, person #953,137. How old were they? Were they alive during the New America renovation or thereafter? Did they have any immediate kin family? What sector were they from? I’d never know.

Time ran away from me and the meal light flickered. I walked up to the rations and selected the usual sandwich. The cup full of small cubes appeared from the tube. I changed it up sometimes for something like soup but felt like going for the usual sandwich today. I found the seat with my glowing number. I had twenty-eight minutes left for break in which I slowly enjoyed my sandwich. I could taste the mere hints of mustard as I chewed. It brought me back to my mother always overdoing the mustard on our ham and bread sandwiches. I liked it though. She would laugh and say the world had become sour like mustard. Laughing now seemed like a waste of motion.

Twenty eight minutes left. Back to the station, back to time playing the old fashion game of hide-and-go-seek. I’d never find it though. It had lost any figure since the sun was covered by metal ceilings and man created lights to take its place. Easier for the seven to make their own conception and control of time.

The corridor had dimmed down to the evening setting as I walked back to my cubicle. Another neighbor was calling the kids to come inside for evening shutting as I noticed one had taken off his mask. Young and clueless. A peace officer came over and told the child to put it back until inside the cubicle. I saw a foreign emotion on his face… fear. He was frozen. The neighbor rushed over and slipped the mask back on the boy’s face before thanking the officer and tugging him back inside. He’d be getting a story tonight of how special the masks are and why he has to keep it on.

I removed my mask once inside and deposited it back to its location next to my bed. I let my hair down for once and it caped my shoulders…an odd feeling.

The door buzzer beeped. Something was off and my nano universe flipped. I was supposed to put the mask back on. A feeling returned from long ago -- gut feeling. I left the mask and approached the door, opening it. The peace officer spoke. “We’ve been informed you have violated the rules and kept an item from life before. There is no further warning.”

A human soul came alive in me, I smiled as he raised the silent gun.

Lights out.