Serial Designation

Chapter 1

Never would I have ever thought this would ever happen.

They said it was all safe. It would've been just a quick trip, right?

Absolutely wrong.

It all started waaay back, in 2034. At that time the population was over 11,000,000,000. So some "genius" decided to start a company that manufactured robots to help control the population. A.I.P.Cs, they were called. Artificial Intelligence for Population Control. That's right: they designed the robots to kill anyone that fit their list of non-essential humans; the elderly, the poor, and even babies, until they got sued and removed that from their programming. They were also called Designations because they could be specifically assigned to people.

It worked for a time, until twenty years later, the robots' rational programming had deteriorated and then all went to heck. They started killing people for absolutely no reason, and stopped their humane deaths completely. Before the manufacturing company had found out, it was too late; they were also wiped out of existence by their own creations. Then the robots went on a rampage, killing everyone they could see. No one could really tell if they were the A.I.P.C.'s because their creators had disguised them as humans by using artificial biological material, gave them their own feelings, and built-in personality assessors so they could manipulate anyone to either gain themselves undying trust or driving the person to their deaths by suicide or "accident." Just like they did to my dad.

So end the dramatic flashbacks and yahdah-yahdah. Skip to present day, 2093. I'm Icelene, 15, and in the School for Housing against Insane Things and Stuff. Yeah, I know, the acronym's totally lame, don't read into it. I have shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, and I always wear clothing that's panda bear themed. Panda hoodies, PJs, whatever. They're my favorite animal.

The teacher was going on about how many ways the Designations can kill us. Now knowing what all they can do, one would think these things were WMDs or something. Also, since that little 2052 catastrophe, grade levels kinda went out the window. We have a couple 8-year-olds learning about the different ways the Designations can tear you to shreds.

Now, hearing all this, you'd think that the real world is apocalyptic: red skies, snow everywhere, fires and broken-down buildings. But it's actually the same as it's been for a long time, except maybe the ground is a little bloodier. Now that the population has been reduced to merely millions, the survivors of the major government decided to take down the big cities so more plants and trees could grow. It's almost a healthier planet.

"Hey, you need a, uh, pencil sharpener?" My older sister Veronix said as my pencil started scraping the paper with its wood.

Veronix is about two years older than me, and about a foot taller. She has the same shoulder-length blonde hair as me, except hers is a bit more erratic, and she dyed the tips pink and threw some pink streaks in there too. She wears punk clothing: spike bracelets, a golden chain necklace, knee-high steel toe black leather boots with her signature stitched-up purple skirt and purple tank top.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, probably. Thanks."

"No problem. Do you have an eraser?"

I handed her one. We trade like this all the time.

"I do hope you girls are still paying attention?" the teacher said wearily.

"Yes Ms. Beverly," Veronix and I said together.

Ms. Beverly reminded me so much of Professor McGonagall from Harry Potter, like, I'm not even kidding. Same face, same hair, except she wears one of those fur coats that belong in the 2020's.