Prisoner 0004C

7 hours and 19 minutes until Extermination

Most of the messages lasted only a couple minutes, the longest about five minutes. Afterwards the Holo-Messages dissolve into nothing. The lucky kids who received messages will never see their families again.

There were still a few kids like me though. Kids who didn't get messages. These kids were almost always Category C criminals and had the hollow eyes of someone who gave up long ago. They must've known no message was coming.

After all the Holo-Messages had dissolved, the dull, unbreakable silence once resumed, but it was now accompanied by a heavy gloom.

One last cruel trick, I thought to myself, one last kick while we're down. The Organisation was known for being merciless and this was just another sick display of its power and cruelty. Give us messages from our family; give us connections to the outside world, when for so long all we had known was this prison. Give us images of the people we love and then Exterminate us, knowing that we've left them behind. It's a cruel thing to do, and I'm sure the Organisation didn't give us those messages in an act of kindness. It was easier for us to die, thinking we were alone and forgotten, then knowing that there was a life outside this prison that could've been.

Kids were crying again, this time the numbers had doubled. I still hated their weakness, but now at least I understood. I wonder if I would be crying too if a Holo-Message had come for me. Maybe, but probably not. Yes, I wouldn't cry today. I would never let my pain show.

The holographic seal of the Organisation appeared once more, hovering over the now empty table where the Holo-Messages had lain.

"7 hours and 3 minutes until Extermination." The regular robot-like voice announced before collapsing into silence. The holograph seal dissolved into pixelated nothing.

We waited for further orders but none came.

"What now?" a Category B girl even shouted, seemingly up at the Watchers but no response came.

For a few uncomfortable minutes, we all waited with bated breath to hear what cruel game would fill the last seven hours of our lives. But there was no sign of any new Organisation orders.

Kids eventually drifted off into corners, occasionally accompanied by others. Electric force fields like the ones that had once barred the entrance into the Extermination Sector stood in front of the corridors, their sinister hiss and the veins of blueish light the only sign to their present at all.

I stood for a time until my knees began to ache in discomfort. Surely some order would be given. Did they seriously just expect us to wait? But they must've because the Watchers glided through the air as normal, following particular inmates unnervingly.

I made my way over to a wall and sunk to the floor.

Kids were crying or just sitting alone and staring into space numbly. Some of the younger, Category A prisoners were seeking guidance from older inmates. But no physical touching whatsoever. That was a clear violation of the Rules. Some of these kids, the Category A ones, had done nothing more than stolen a few scraps from bins for their own survival. I knew this because before I had been jailed I had once seen a little girl arrested for taking old, moldy half eaten bread from a bin outside a bakery. A Watcher had suddenly whirred out from behind the dumpster and the little girl had shrieked in fright. The Watcher began to wail; it was an anti-thievery Watcher, obviously put in place by the baker himself because the man came stomping out, face reddened and sweaty.

"Think you can steal from me, you little brat!" he raged and the little girl cowered, dropping the bread in fright. The baker had grabbed her tiny wrist and yanked her into the shop. She would've have been charged as a Category A criminal and sent to prison. That year, she would've faced Extermination, just as I do now.

See, under the Organisation's harsh laws, crime has become the only option for many people, especially thievery. Because of the huge swell in criminals, the Organisation couldn't keep up. So they put in place the new law that all of the world's criminals, like me, would be executed in one foul swoop each and every year. They call it the Extermination as in massacre, or mass slaughter.

Eventually, my thoughts turned to death, just as they always do in the lonely hours.

Now, however, it was harder to stomach the thought of my upcoming death. Now that my death was really here, just a few hours away it suddenly became real. A real and tangible thing and not just some future task I would one day face. Now my death was here and I was scared shitless.

As the hours went on, more kids drifted apart. Some lay down whilst others sat and stood. I think everyone wanted to be alone, to be able to say goodbye to their families, their lives and themselves, even if the first goodbye would never be heard. Kids were starting to stop crying aloud, but silent tears streamed down their faces.

A little boy, he looked to be only ten or eleven, sat on the floor near me. Soft, curly blond hair and big blue eyes; he was the image of youth and innocence. But today he would die. He was surely only a Category A criminal. I couldn't image those big blue eyes doing anything worse than thievery.

The boy's eyelashes gleamed with tears, but no drops spilled from those perfect little eyes. It fascinated me. The boy was so close to crying yet no tears trekked down his rosy plump cheeks. I wonder what was preventing those tears from spilling out. Maybe he shares my views on crying: crying is for the weak, and for babies.

The tiny boy must've felt my eyes and he turned to me.

Usually, I would avert my gaze. Prisoners, especially Category C's, can be touchy and will pick a fight for no reason, even with the threat of Punishment looming. Many don't even care.

But I continue to stare at the little boy, and now his eyes were on me as well. I wonder what he saw. Perhaps he saw me as a hardened Category C criminal; a sociopath perhaps. We have plenty of kids like that in here. The sociopaths are usually the ones that attempt suicide, and then laugh while they're Punished.

Maybe the little boy just sees me as a girl who doesn't deserve to be here: innocent, scared and in denial of what fate awaits her.

I am neither a sociopath nor am I innocent. So what does that make me then?