Birth of a Tragedy

    Freedom.

    Freedom was such a strange word. 

     As the femme only known as #19335 was ushered back into her cold, rusted cage, she had thought about freedom. The other Numbers, each in an identical container, positioned in endless rows along the walls of the Facility, they talked about freedom. How they remembered freedom.

     She wasn't sure she ever met this "Freedom." She wasn't quite sure about anything, really. All she knew was the cold, damp atmosphere around her, the slate blue colour of her jumpsuit, the ragged edges of her number patch upon the uniform's left shoulder. Almost every memory was filled with the frigid floor she slept upon, the tasteless nutrition tablets that always left her stomach crying for more, the ceaseless chatter of the other Numbers around her. She sat in the corner, dust-grey wings pressed against the steel bars. The billowy down of her canopy made it a bit more comfortable, but not by much. Still, as she looked around at the faces surrounding her, each one separated by hateful bars of metal, each one seeming to have completely lost all emotion, she felt guilty. The others did not have feathers to keep them warm. They did not get to leave the Cages as often as she did, even if she was only taken out for tests. She was truly the more fortunate. And, this gave her a strange feeling of both comfort and guilt.

     Picking at the grime beneath her short, stubby claws, she sighed. She wondered what this place truly was, why the Numbers were all here. Perhaps, she thought, this was a prison. Yes, it could very well be. She had done something wrong a long, long time ago, something that she could not remember, and was serving a prison sentence. Of course, in her heart, she knew this could not be true. During testing, while she was strapped into the dark grey table that so oddly matched her skin, she had overheard one of the People In White saying that she was "...no more than fifteen years of age at this point, and incredibly strong at that." With the talon of her index finger, she drew fifteen lines in the dirt beneath her. Fifteen was not a lot, certainly not enough for someone to commit a crime. She sighed, brushing the marks back into the ground. Perhaps she would ask one of the People In White, the next time they came for her. 

     Before she could completely make up her mind, a noise fluttered to her salt-and-pepper covered ears through the commotion around her. A soft, unsure voice. "Hello." it said, and she turned to face the corner, trying to find the voice. Scanning the cages, she noticed a Number who seemed to be around her age, fifteen. Not a lot. She gave a little wave, and, as the youth waved back, she determined that it was a male. Unlike the rest of the Numbers, this boy did not have any unique features--such as she with her wings and greyscale body, the old one a few rows down with the ability to move water, they had to build her a special cage because of that, or the little girl who was just brought in that had skin the colour of charcoal, flecked with gold. In thinking of this, another thought came to her. Why didn't the People In White do these things? They all looked like the boy, all plain and simple. Why weren't any of them blue or green, with antennae or claws or such? 

     "You think a lot." Said the voice, and she returned to reality. The boy nodded, grinning. She tilted her head, curious as to how she could hear him speak with him being so far away. "It's because I'm a telepath, dweeb." 

     "I am not a dweeb!" She frowned, ruffling her feathers as the boy put a finger to his lips, ushering her to be silent. 

     "Shh! Don't talk out loud. They'll get suspicious, you know. Just think, okay?" The girl gave a small sigh, still unsure what to think of this male being able to read her thoughts. 

     Okay. But only if you will not call me a Dweeb. The boy chuckled at that, and agreed. "Fine, dork."  Without knowing so, she smiled, the corners of her emerald eyes lifting up into tiny creases. The boy was actually quite entertaining. 

     As the two children talked, growing to become some odd type of friends, the People In White were busy preparing for #19335's final experiment. This would be the last time she would remain a child, the last moment of innocence.

     The IXEN parasite needed a new host, and the People In White had  finally found one.