Atavism

3 - XN0013

My palms sting where they grip the leather-bound knives. The material is rough and worn, stained from constant use. It's not that the material physically hurts me, it's more of the threat they carry. Knives bring death and so do I. Sometimes I miss the perfectly balanced blades that the government secretly manufactures. At least their weapons made death fast and painless. They weren't some knock-off butter knives sharpened to the point of snapping in my grasp. Technically, I hardly got to use knives back then. Only when I was trying to frame the Atavists for something. By something, I mean murder, of course. What else would I do? Poison is much more preferable and humane, but of course, some sketchy rebel group isn't going to provide high quality, lethal injections-- we have the government for that.

I don't really need to be holding the knives, I'm going to have to put them away before I join the crowd, but it's just a reminder of what I'm here to do. Plus,  holding them on the roof makes me feel like some ninja spy from the 21st century.

It's unbelievably tedious to refrain from jumping off the roof, running at RN2142, and attacking. I could disappear before anyone even got a good glimpse of me. Such an easy target, just ambling around the apartment building, sipping something from a flask. I did my five minutes of research on her and I don't need much more than that to know that I hate her. Five minutes are enough to reveal that she's another one of those obedient students with at least a thousand points, always striving for perfection. Everyone is the same in this pathetic excuse of a city, wandering around mindlessly and following every order they are given. Their constraining rules keep them from questioning anything in their perfect bubble lives.

Rules sure aren't where it ends though, humans are practically just robots now, mere shells of the once animate creatures they used to be. I used to wonder what it would be like, as one of them. Youthful ignorance surrounds each one in an impenetrable cloud, keeping out everything they shouldn't know. They don't know about me-- I'm just a nightmare they don't remember in the morning.

'Cause they're dead in the morning.

This one will be dead by the end of the day though. RN2142, a newly appointed assistant to the Secretary of Research, a high ranking government research- GR- job. I've had to assassinate many people in GR, due to them finding out too much about what the government really is. The GR are the people who get to know me as more than a fleeting dream, the ones who get to select everything that I am. They told me that they even handpicked my personality as far as they could, trapping me in my own mind, the unique gift of individuality stolen from me and replaced with a man-made void fit to swallow up anything sleight of emotions.

I casually crouch on the roof of the building across the street-- another apartment complex. This one's for the lower rankers, anyone in the Double Hundreds. The building is slightly taller, due to the added floors to house more Doubles. The general adult population is in the 500-1000 range, leaving anyone above 1000 with better housing, better jobs, better education, and better living in general. I heard that if your rank is high enough they'll even feed you one real meal a day, rather than those pieces of cardboard they call biscuits.

Double Hundreds would suggest 200 points, but in this reality, they are the 500s. Whoever named them that probably was thinking backwards- if 500 is half of 1000, then 500 double is 1000, therefore double hundreds are 500s. Bad logic, but if they want to keep the population from questioning it then they're doing quite a good job. No one questions anything, as ensured by one of their redundant rules.

Anyway, standing on rooftops is pretty great, cause no one bothers to look up. There's no point; the sun is preparing to kill us all as normal, the sky is gray from the pollution of our ancestors as expected, and the clouds are nonexistent-- all the water for the precious cotton swabs hanging in the air got evaporated under the sun. All hydration is baked into the cardboard crackers anyway. People just drug themselves with coffee now.

GR jobs are the most unfavorable of all. RN2142 is about to find that out today if she even makes it to the lab without dying. She meanders over to the transport station, awaiting the quick arrival of the train. They don't call them trains anymore, but I was lucky enough to be forced into history classes by the government. Part of "training." Something about not making the same mistakes as our ancestors. It's not like I learned any real history. I was just flipping through the textbook and came across something about trains and country expansion. They took away my history class after I asked why we don't call them trains anymore.

I don't care much for government and politics. Well, politics are a thing of the past. Now it's murder-who's-in-charge-with-your-enslaved-mutant or follow-the-rules-and-get-appointed. I like being that little enslaved mutant. It's been more fun than any history class is to run around the city murdering not-so-random people. Maybe that was something else they selected for my personality. "Ah yes, don't forget to add the 'loves murder' gene." Science really wasn't my thing, so not sure how that actually works.

Moving to the edge of my building, I watch RN2142 board the transport train. Swiftly and silently, I scamper to the side of my building and slip down the fire escape staircase, instantly jumping from the ally and sliding into the trickling river of people. My slate uniform matches perfectly with everyone else's. The silver plaque on my left side reads AL2142. The only people arriving this early to the station will be the ones born in 2142, ready to start their new jobs as Thousands. AL stands for Alice, not my real name obviously, but basic enough to get by. There's even a mock wristband on my wrist.

I watch the train with RN2142 on it pick up speed and zoom away as I board the train behind it. It's fun to kill people at work, their body gets discovered and the entire office is sent into an organized panic. Plus, I need something from the Research facility. A few somethings, including but not limited to: poison, weapons, information, and something else that I'd rather not retrieve.

To sum up that item: I'm not going to be the only mutant around anymore.