Nano Bytes - A Collection of Short SciFi Stories

What's your number? by Pepperminimint

"What's your number?"

"What's it to you?"

She shrinks back into the corner of her cell, startled by my harsh words. "Nothing, I suppose."

I only grunt in response. I know she can't see my expression; I'm facing the wall. It's a position I haven't left since she arrived.

I hear her move, see her wrap her arms around her knees. She's afraid of me.

Good.

I picture the digits on my back, the pattern of ebony ink bleeding across my shoulder blades. The numbers burn a hole through my skin.

They're my identity.

But they also brand me as an outlaw.

And that's what brought me here, to the dark cells and cold silence of Mauldrey Prison.

She gives up. She lies down, curled into a ball. She's young, and she's new.

She doesn't know the Rules.

But I do.

The PA system crackles to life, the voice booming throughout the narrow corridors of the dungeon level. "Prisoners 746 and 708, Wrenn Colby and Ephraim Carver, execution for camaraderie."

A shiver runs down my spine. Another execution. 746 and 708. Grade three outlaws. All three numbers condemn them. They're mixed-blood, underclass, potentially infected with the highly contagious Troje virus. Not everyone with an even number has the disease, but they're more susceptible to contracting it.

I would know.

But neither of them have a nine in the last digit, which means neither of them actually have it.

Worst, they're being executed for camaraderie. Outlaws aren't allowed to consort with other outlaws, in case they reproduce. To limit the spread of the virus.

Death, just for living as who they are.

And I know Wrenn. I met her when I first arrived. She and Ephraim have been running from the law since they were fifteen years old. They're seventeen now. Rumor has it that they did have a child together, a baby girl who died at birth, but that's another story.

I try not to imagine it. They'll be taken to the ocean, rowed out in a small boat by two executioners. They'll be tied to each other, with heavy cement blocks around their ankles and wrists. And in the middle of the cold sea, they'll be dropped in to drown. Seventeen years old. Killed because they're in love.

The only consolation is that they'll die together.

My eyes water, and I angrily swipe the tears away. It's inhumane. Every time I hear the announcements, every day, I vow to do something about it.

But the reality is that I'm helpless.

Because I'm here too. I'm an outlaw too.

And I'm just as guilty as the young teenagers dying tonight.

The guards just don't know it yet.

A rat scurries across the stones, pauses by my foot. I can't summon the will to kill it. Instead I close my eyes. I haven't slept for ages, but I've grown used to the exhaustion. To the long hours of hunger and thirst and pain, endless pain.

I need to rest, before the soldiers come in again to take me away. Before they rob me of the only good thing left.