Touch

1 - Cassandra

My name is Cassandra. I can't remember the last time someone called me by my name.

I am number 1065237. I was born on the 29th of February, 3000. My parents are Georgina, 1065143, and Arthur, 1065140.

My father believes in the Saviours. That's what they call themselves. The people who ripped our world apart, then brainwashed people into thinking that they had the solution. My father believes that they hold the solution in their factories and machinery, the metal monsters that are slowly choking our world to death.

My mother believes in Love. This is not a common thing to believe in. My mother is not a common woman.

When you reach eighteen, you are assigned to a partner. The men's parents choose the partnership. You have one month to get to know them, then you are parents yourselves. "Choice" is not a common thing here.

You used to receive a child after a month. They let the higher-class citizens get the first pick. The quiet ones are usually chosen first, less hassle means more sleep for the rich.

My mother tells me that I was severely underweight, but I never cried louder than a whisper. She says that I was picked because my eyes looked intelligent.

My father says I was picked because my mother took pity on me.

Nowadays they combine the reproductive cells of you and your partner and implant the fertilised egg into the mother. There are no twins, triplets or siblings of any sort. Everything must be controlled.

•••

It is my eighteenth birthday today.

I am terrified.

I stand in a room with a mirror, watching my reflection. Sometimes I see movement, imperceptible signs that I might not be the one standing here.

I lift my hand to my face. My hair tumbles down my back as I undo the perfect bun that my mother has created. I don't want to be perfect.

I want to be me.

I put on the most detailed dress that I can find, the embroidery forms the shape of a lily. Cassandra Lily Blake. My full name slaps me in the face as I remember that tomorrow, everything will change.

I don't want to go outside.

I slip my feet into my shoes and tiptoe out of my room.

My mother is standing in the kitchen. She's prepared something special for our last meal together. My father has already left for work.

I will see him later, but he will not speak to me.

We eat in silence. I am too afraid to talk, and my mother is too sad. By the end of the meal, tears are streaming down both of our faces.

"I don't want to go." I say, my voice croaky and hoarse from crying.

"I don't want you to leave." my mother says, and as we break down into sobbing messes, we come together for our last hug. I squeeze tight, trying to express my love for her through physical action. I hope the message gets through.

•••

I wander through crowded streets, searching for the right building. Everyone that I walk past knows that it's my day, my selection, my time. They touch my shoulders, trying to express their sympathy, jealousy, excitement. Any number of emotions have been expressed but none of them make any sense to me other than the fear that has consumed my body.

I look to the right and spot a tall, white building. The selection building. I walk up to the front of it and look around me.

I could run.

I could hide.

But I would die.

They would find me and kill me if I tried to escape. I would be seen as a threat to their precious system and I would be executed.

I can't help anyone if I'm dead.

I take a deep breath before heading inside.

•••

The ground floor looks like a hospital. Bright lights shone across the ceiling, reflecting off polished surfaces everywhere. There is no dirt. No room for error.

It's so cold in here.

I walk up to the front desk and wait, nervously. There's a woman with flaming red hair behind the counter, and she doesn't seem to notice me. I cough politely, and she looks up.

"Sorry lovie, won't be a tick!" She exclaims in a strange accent. I would guess that she's from another sector, but I can't think of any that have that kind of accent.

She hands me a sheet of paper. There are lots of boxes and instructions all over it.

"Fill this out dear, then hand it back to me and we'll get started." she says cheerfully. I don't understand what's going to happen next, but I fill out the sheet anyway.

"Thank you!" The woman says as I hand my sheet back to her. I think she has a name badge. I can only glimpse it when she turns to the side. Her name is Tara.

"Ok, head on over to that room on the right to get sterilised, and we'll start operating afterwards." I appear to look confused, as Tara laughs and explains further.

"We're harvesting your eggs today miss, ready for them to be fertilised once your partner has been confirmed." I must look shocked, because Tara quickly buzzes into her microphone to call for assistance.

"This way miss." a man's voice says as I am led into a room filled with bright lights and people with masks and tools that I don't know the name of but they look dangerous.

I am completely numb, and I don't notice them strapping me to the operating table until it's too late.

"Now, we're just going to put this mask on you..." A woman wearing a mask says, and she places a strange cover over my nose and mouth.

The air tastes funny. I hear the woman say "Thank you for continuing to help with the survival of our race."

Everything goes black.