Trust The Sytem

IV

"'Ey, chica, what's up?" a voice sounded behind me. Oh brother, I thought. I turned around to find none other than Galen. "What do you want, Len?" He smirked seductively at me and I saw his eyes flick to the loose strand of hair over my face. He, without permission of course, reached out and brushed the little rebel back behind my ear. My heart started hammering but not from the emotion that you'd expect. You're thinking, 'Awww, she's nervous and giddy cause she loves him!' Uh, no. My heart was hammering with anger. It took all my self-control to resist punching him right then and there. "You're cute when you're mad, Erin," he crooned. "Galen, go away," I growled. He smirked and walked off just as the bell rung.

We were led back to our cells by some of the Human Operatives. One woman in about her thirties kept a particularly keen eye on me. I would feel someone staring at me and look over to see her glaring holes into my head. Once, when I turned looked over, I rolled my eyes at her and she lunged at me. I yelped as she slammed me into the white wall of the corridor, a white plastic pistol pressed under my chin. I gulped and my tears pricked the backs of my eyes. "You wanna tell me why the hell you rolled your eyes at me, maggot?!" she yelled, spit landing on my face. She had a slight southern accent, maybe from Alabama or something. I stayed tight lipped, my expression blank. "Huh?! You gonna answer me ya piece of-" she was cut of by a stern hand on her shoulder. She virtually dropped the gun and whipped around to stand at attention. I fell against the wall, gasping for breath. "Now, Tiffany. What have we told you about aggression towards the students?" he asked. I slowly looked up and I swear, my heart stopped. "The Praefectus..." I breathed in shock. The man looked down at me and smiled warmly. But I knew behind that warmth lay a cold heart. He had been single-handedly responsible for the execution of hundreds of Unit Kids nation wide. He knelt down in front of me and I got a good look at him. Hazel eyes, rimmed by crows feet. Short, curly black hair, greying at the sides. A salt-and-pepper goatee. He looked like he could be a loving husband and father out of a movie. "That's right, Erin. You are a very intelligent girl. Come, take a walk with me," he said. He stood up and offered me a hand that I warily took. The Praefectus helped me up and placed an arm around my shoulders.

"But sir," Tiffany called, "She's a red!" The Praefectus shot her a dagger-sharp look and growled, "That is merely superstition. This young girl's hair color certainly does not reflect her loyalties," then his tone brightened and he continued, "Trust the System, Ms. Dane. Trust the System. Isn't that right, Ms. Donne?" I was in shock from his sudden emotion change so it took me a moment to respond with a curt nod.

The Praefectus led me down the corridor and spoke, "Ok, Erin, here's the deal. Subject 509 died at seven-o-hundred hours this morning. They found him hanging from the shower head with floss wrapped around his neck. The suicide note read, 'They told me it wasn't working. That I was useless and unloved. That we'd be happier dead. That Erin would be happier if we were dead.'" I stopped in my tracks and stared blankly straight ahead. This time, I couldn't hold back the tears. They flowed hot and salty down my cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Praefectus....I thought he-he was cured...." The man shook his head and said, "Please, call me Conner. And it's not your fault. We've lost many a patient over the years and Subject 509 was just another failure. One that we; that you; will learn from. We will set you up with a new patient as soon as possible," the Praefectus-I mean, Conner stopped walking and turned around, "Erin?" He walked back towards me and put a hand on my shoulder. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and said, "Erin...You know not to get attached to the subjects. We must remain emotionless. Why has Subject 509 got you all worked up?" I looked up into those falsely-warm eyes of his and growled in a low voice, "Subject 509 has-...had a name. His name was John. John Wilson. He was thirty-two with a wife-now a widow-and three kids. He had a job as an engineer and was happy being treated here for his schizophrenia. And another thing. I am not some robot that can't feel anything. I am not going to be your little sociopath just for the sake of science." My face was red and I was trembling by the time I finished ranting, but Conner hadn't flinched. He just stood there looking slightly annoyed and disappointed, though no emotion showed in his eyes. They were a practiced blank hazel. His next words sent a chill down my spine. "Looks like Tiffany was right." Then his stabbed a syringe into the side of my neck and I immediately lost consciousness.