Numbers [Entry for Young writers short story contest]

Numbers

The unsteady clicking of an inexperienced walk, rang across the empty halls of district 900-47.2 security department. It feels so odd to think that I of all would be walking down these halls to an unrhythmic tapping and even more astounding for my reasoning.

My long black hair danced against my inherited icy skin with an annoying presence. Straightened and prepped unlike ever before streaking across the cheap blush that painted my narrow bones that the landlord insisted I wear against all my protest, I hope she's not expecting full rent then.

Two guards stood, taking away the stainless white hall with their matching uniforms. Armor covered their bodies with an intimidating appearance. Masks cover their expression with a shiny metallic plane with their names written in white. I stopped in front of the doorway marked 221 as were my instructions from the members of the council.

I narrowed my eyes as their voices rang in the silence; Numbers.

"State your code and clearance," the soldier to my right commanded. I read his helmet with a distaste that I would never sink from my mind, P3-16.

"I am Q99-2 of area L4.21, clearance number is P44. I have come to see my brother," I stated with an utter blankness, this world has come to expect.

"Would have figured you were from the ghetto," the other solider smirked not phasing my blank expression. I read his name with annoyance, K49-2.

"If you please, there is a limited time that I can speak with my brother before his execution and I don't need the likes of a low life Number as yourself cutting into that," I sighed with a strong voice.

"Don't tell me you're a Janus supporter? You're a Number to," K49-2 laughed, grabbing the black fabric of the arm of my pencil dress.

I pulled away with a huff stumbling slightly on the towering shoes. "Please he's the only family I have and I would like to say my goodbyes," I pleaded but, respectfully. I should have just slapped the guy across his metallic mask but, what good would that have done me? I'd just end up with a broken wrist and a court order.

"Go on princess," P3-16 mocked opening the honey comb panel door. "Say goodbye to Janus for us."

I walked silently, avoiding what insults I could spill.

The room was large and colorless much like the imagination of whoever built it. Only glass mirrors filled the hall creating countless appearances. I hate mirrors, not a single one can see past the outside of a person so not one can truly show a reflection, just like this world. If someone were to see our plane of existence from an outside viewing point we would seem happy. The world would seem to be at peace, but, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

To think back at how different the world was only ten years ago. It seems odd to call myself a Number. I was born an earthling, but my title is now merely that of a Number. All that in which classifies us as humanity has been ripped away by those of our own. Humanity has broken to the whim of progress as those with power claim it as their own. That in order to move forward, we must discard individuality and opinion. When we refused, war and death spread like a wildfire. The dried wood of idealism and replication fueling the ever growing idea of a forced society. Families were left across the ashes with only memories of the past to fuel the ever growing flame. Slaughters rang across the world with the screams of help being lost in the blaze. Fighting no longer spread only to the future, but rather the past leaving my own reality broken like that of a painted china doll's face that could no longer hold beauty. Sanity faded into the depths of the sorrow that filled the air much like a growing disease and as did trust with only the Number's government standing.

That was until the figure of Janus appeared and our world seemed lighter in a way. Janus refused to take the title of a Number and rather took his own identity. He claims to be a god sent from the heavens to bring a new beginning to Earth. According to legend of those who came far before me, Janus was considered to be a God to those of ancient times. It was said that Janus would bring upon new changes and would open the gates to a new world. Many of the Numbers from the lower classes agree with the idealism and practices of Janus and wish to follow his path. These followers have formed the collective agency of human rights, the Individuals or that's at least what the media calls them.