Mind of Gray

             Chapter One : Part Two

             He froze standing back straight and eyes forward, as if he hadn’t just ignored the Commissioner’s entire speech. With a quick glance forward at the supervisor he noticed that while he was no longer being stared upon, the supervisor was scribbling nonsense onto his clipboard—never a good thing. It was probable that Marcus would be reported to the Civil Enforcement Overseer and receive some kind of punishment, either a quick slap up beside the head or a couple weeks of front line deportation, hopefully not a deportation. Regardless the formation was about over, the vast majority of the green uniforms had already been dismissed and went about their daily tedious routines, and the Enforcement Agency marched off silently to do whatever it is that they do. All that remained were the Septems and Octos, whose supervisors were busy having a friend to subordinate conversation while their responsibilities rotted in the heat. The Septem supervisor tipped his cap to the Octos supervisor as he began to dismiss his men.

            “Finally” Marcus thought. The supervisor walked back over to the front of the formation, clipboard in hand, and began his dismissal.

            “Okay, destinations thirty-one through forty are to report to Technical Training Academy 2162 for skills assessments, destinations fifty-one through sixty are to report to Provisional Help Facility 2861 for ration retrieval. As for the rest of you go about your daily work. There is much too still be done, wher-” Marcus heard enough, he was going to the Academy he didn’t have to concern himself with his normal work as an Octos, sitting in a stark, rat smelling cubicle typing mindlessly into a computer. As the supervisor dismissed the group Marcus walked off with Dominick.

            “Did you notice when-” he began.

            “When you fell asleep in the middle of reveille?” Dominick said

            “I think I saw the supervisor writing my name down.”

            “He probably did, you know how he is.”

            “How did you notice I was sleeping? Did you turn to look at me, if so your name is probably written down as well.”

            “No.”Dominick said pausing after, as though knowing that Marcus had fallen asleep was a shock.

            “What then?” he said, curious as to the uneasy look on Dominick’s face.

            “Nothing, I could hear you snoring.” Dominick turned away and became interested in a different part of the courtyard, he walked towards it.

            “Ok, see you later too.” Marcus said, annoyed.

             He continued to walk out of the courtyard and found himself on a street that would lead him straight to the Academy. The street was long and still heavily populated from the Decems and Novems who had yet to clear to their job assignments. As Marcus walked he could feel the pavement peeling and cracking between each and every step of his boots. People crowded the street making him slip in between each of them slowing his progress. The walls of the buildings around him were decaying; they appeared as though maybe just a hundred years ago they were beautiful. Blown out lights would have glowed magnificently in the night creating an orchestra of various vibrant colors, the different architecture would have meshed together seamlessly to create an array of culture finesse. But, nonetheless the wear and tear, the constant abuse, the lack of concern had turned these remarkable achievements of engineering and creativity to ruins.

          “Stop,” someone shouted. Marcus heard the snap of gunfire and, with the instinctual reaction bludgeoned into him through years of social behavioral training, dropped to the ground with his hand over his head. All that was left standing was a lone man in green. He appeared scared and desperate. There this man stood with a D plastered upon his arm, he was frozen with a small handgun resting in his outstretched right hand. He shook, with violence, with tears running down his face as he gazed upon the man who lay dead in the street. It was a mugging. This man lowered his gun and with a single motion looked into the sky and smiled. The man in green dropped, a bullet had blown through his head, center point between his eyes, leaving blood splattered across the pavement and upon the other men lying down next to him. His lifeless body collapsed with a large thud. An Enforcement sniper had taken the shot, ending the criminal’s life; everyone else lying down just made that job easier. Marcus and the rest of the population all rose to their knees and in a single unified voice spoke:

        “Echelon embraces you Brother, we accept your consumptions.” Everyone rose back to their feet and continued with their socializations as though nothing had occurred. Marcus never spoke out the meaningless chants the Echelon endorsed, but when it came to the death of a Brother he always showed his respects. Something about death always got to Marcus, it never affected anyone else. He feared death, but also respected it. Nothing in this world was as powerful or demanding as the ability to end a life, and death had it down to a science. Not the Echelon or even the Head of State could conquer death. In a small way Marcus believed that if any Brother was more controlled by their own mortality, it was the Echelon; those who are so graced with control, good health, and money, they are cursed with just as much to lose. While this man in green with a plastered D on his arm had nothing. Lowest of all, born with only what he was given by the Provisional Help Facility and to die with such. Marcus did not find it strange that the man did what he did, but to die for it.

       “Maybe he wanted to die.” He said to himself, stopping where he was surrounded by hundreds of uniforms all beginning to spread and disperse to their assignments. He looked forward and realized he had reached a dead end of the street. In front of him was a monstrous structure, with bronze letters shooting across the top. Technical Training Facility 2162, it read.