love and the remaking

The Sentence

  Three generations have passed since the Reprogramming War. Unlike most, there were no guns, or bombs, or poor souls dying. At least, not dying from the war itself. Times have changed since the Reprogramming War. There's no more online fights, no depressed suicides, no individuality either. Now we are raised to be machine-like, Each one like the next. Fathers followed by sons, daughters copying their mothers. There seems to be a shortage of molds for people to fit in, As if there is nothing better then to be a replica of another. No decision, no love, no passion.

   Cold flor, cold air, cold stares. Time passes slowly as I sit in this silent room. I know what they think my downfall is. Love. They placed me here within this room, in front of these heartless drones. I sit still as the judge stands before the room. "Mavri Senti, this was your last chance. I now hereby order you to see the Remaker this time tomorrow. "

   I feel a wave of fear run through me, leaving a sharp emptiness in its wake. The Remaker was where they sent people when they wanted them 'remade'. There they took out all existing traits and memories, removed either by electric shock or the far more common gassings, both being accompanied by complete plastic surgery. Memories were erased and the victim's personality was rewritten. They would go in as one person and out as another. Nothing left behind to remember, except the subtle scars and lines on the body that was formed for the cuts and sutures that were used. The victims of this gruesome process tended to be unwanted criminals, sent in to become model citation.

    For I, I only know one person who will not enjoy me having to be remade. In everyday life, I know no one cares for me except him. No one will ever care for someone who messes up so much. Someone who is such a disappointment. I had done nothing to earn this, nor did I ask for it.

    I remain still, letting everyone around me leave. Life no longer contains the hope of a future farther than tomorrow. I am lost. The only way out is to die before then, but with the Remaker System, they can bring you back from suicide. The only thing I can do at this point is to find Calum and make the best out of my last day. My last twenty-four hours. The last minutes' whare I am me.

   Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone start to approach me from the back of the room. I look back at my hands sitting in my lap, regret filling my mind. My thoughts expanding like foam. Regret for things I didn't realize that would haunt me. I had never intended to do anything wrong. I can feel the place is almost empty now. Only one other person along with me is not congregated by the door. I feel a hand being pressed on my shoulder. A fearful touch, hesitant tension pulsing through their hand. As I slowly lift my head I find that we are alone.

   He can sense that I do not want to speak yet so he does: "I think it's time to head home, love," Just as I thought it is Calum. The only one who has loved me in the past ten or more years.

   "Till death do us part," he whispers to the far ceiling above, its volume dying out before an echo can be formed. I allow that line to roll through my head. That line has been muttered time and time again, only to be proven time and time again to be a lie. Death is no longer a threat to the most, Recreation is. I glance up, only to spot a subtle trail of tears lining the path from his blue eyes to the edge of his strong jaw. I hate that everything I have put effort into is to make him happy, all that energy has now gone to waste.

    The moment I walk into the subtle bustle of the hallway, I felt as if I was a magnet, attracting all the unwanted attention that dwells there. I believe that their historically called 'the press'. Calum and I were immediately swarmed by all the people. They were all over us. The idea of answering just one of them seemed an impossible feat on its own! Since understanding what they were saying is a challenge, I feel Calum's hand tense up in mine. He was not so acclimated with mass attention. I try keeping a stern face. Standing here, I watch them, listening to their nonsensical overlapping voices, trying to decide on what they are saying.