The Forgotten

Ultra Tech

I wasn't born lucky. Most kids my age (12) would be playing outside with their friends. Not me. I spend most of my time hooked up to machines. But I'll tell you about that later.

My name is Wrive Tacking, and I first entered Ultra Tech Labs three years ago. The people at Ultra Tech are a bunch of nerds who work on "special cases" like me. My only friend here is a kid named Shawn. He's five years old, and when he gets angry, he throws objects across the room. Now, I know what you're thinking. Wow, what a strong kid! Well, he's not. I mean, he's not a wimp or anything, he just has the strength of a average five-year old. He doesn't throw things with his hands. He uses his mind. They call him "The Psychic", and he hates it. They label all of us here. My label is Nec, which is short for Necromancer. We all hate our labels.

I only know one other kid, and he's a jerk. His name is Kaylen, and his label is The Fridge. Yeah, I know. It's pretty bad. But nobody makes fun of him, one, because their names are just as bad, and two, because he can decrease the temperature in their cells. (Thus "The Fridge".) He's a real bully. He makes fun of other kids for their names because he knows they won't bully him back. Once upon a time, I might have stood up for other kids. But there's only so much one kid can take between freezing and getting studied like some strange animal.

Sleep is peace. The eight hours we get of it is the only time we can get away from our cells. While we sleep, we live in a world where our parents are still alive. We live in a world where we're not hooked up to machines for the majority of the day. I live in a world where my life didn't go terribly wrong at nine years old.

I'm not sure if God and Heaven are real, but I want them to be. I need them to be! If I die, I don't want my soul to stay here. There's gotta be somewhere else. I know, because while talking with a ghost, I found out that ghosts can choose to stay on Earth as a wandering spirit, or to leave. The ghost I know was afraid where leaving may take them. Would I choose to stay, I wonder?

My mom and dad died in a fire a few days after I got here. "So sorry, kid. Hey, to soften the blow, how about we hook you up to a giant machine and study your guts!" Yeah, I'm sure you're terribly grieved... NOT! Loser- oh, sorry, I mean Ultra Tech murdered my folks. I'm not just jumping to conclusions, by the way. Everyone's folks die a few days after their kids get here. Ultra Tech is a bunch of murderers and nerds! No one knows we exist. To the world, Wrive Tacking was never born.