Human Untouched

3

Most of the crowd in here were the people who'd just been picked up. They were all grouped together with familiar faces, trying to find some semblance of normality in an uncertain future.

I took a seat at the farthest table. It was sparsely occupied with the faces and expressions of people who'd been there a while. I tried not to stare but I could see the results of the experiments on them as I passed by.

The skin on their forearms had needle marks, peeling skin, oddly coloured eyes, discoloration on their necks. There were expressions of pain on several of their faces, others for whom it was only visible in their eyes. Eyes fell on me. Some flashed in recognition and immediately looked away. I did them the same courtesy, pretending I didn't know who these shells of humans once were.

I did recognise a few people from when my brother was taken. Maybe once enough time had passed... I could ask about him. How he was here, what they did to him... how did he die...

My hand curled way too tightly around the plastic spoon as I tried not to let the tide of grief waiting just out of view overwhelm me. I couldn't cry here. Not now. I need to know what's going on first.

I dug a spoon into the mashed potatoes, raising it my mouth only to stop as a hand landed on my shoulder.

Surprise passed through me and I turned to look up at a tall stranger with familiar features. Blonde hair shaved down to a stubble. He seemed to still be a bit new here. There was no distinct changes to him like the ones on this table. I hadn't seen him on the trucks.

"Terra." He breathed my name out, surprise evident in his voice at the fact that it really was me. When I showed no reaction but wariness, his expression dimmed a bit. "It's me, Marcus."

My breath stuck in my throat as that niggling feeling of familiarity found a place. I remembered a guy with long, dirty blonde hair to his shoulder, a slight stubble, brown eyes, a crooked nose he'd broken helping me in a fight. He'd been taken a month ago.

I stood slowly. "Marcus..." I whispered.

He laughed, placing his plate down with a thunk and throwing his arms around me. "God, it's good to see you."

I hesitated a bit before wrapping my arms around him and giving him a few soft pats on the back. "Uh, same to you, I guess."

He pulled back, letting his arms drop to the side as he looked me over once again. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not happy to see you in here of all places, but I am glad to just see you."

"You too." I rubbed my arms, uncomfortable as an awkward silence too over.

"Oh, right. You must be hungry. " Marcus gestured to the table as he started lowering himself onto the round stool beside me. "Sit."

I quietly sat back down, picking up my spoon again and hoping conversation wouldn't be rekindled. Marcus was the son of the only metal worker in this sector. He and his father worked on metal to keep up the appearances but if one of them was missing from their day job, they were in the back working on illegally modifying weapons.

Marcus had always been... interested in me. There were times I had no work where I would stay away from home just so my parents wouldn't have to feed me. But no matter what, he always shared half his packed lunch with me if he saw me. There came a time when he would save it just in case I showed up. I owed him and his family a great deal more than I owed anyone else.

"So, how's Pops?" He asked after a while of silence.

Swallowing the saltless mashed potatoes, I nodded. "He's fine. Really threw himself into work once you were taken away. I started working for him in your place." I used the fork to draw trails on the tray. "Last night, I was in the back workshop working on it till 3."

"AM?"

"Yea."

Marcus sighed knowingly. "You didn't go home for dinner."

I didn't reply, quietly digging into the chicken, something that had seasoning.

There was another sigh at my silence followed by Marcus shifting his tray over to me. "Eat."

I glanced at his half-eaten food and then up at him. "I have food. You don't need to go half with me anymore."

"So? I want to share."

"Keep it, Marcus." I moved it away. "You're quite a ways through experimentation. You need it more than I do."

I could feel his brown eyes burrowing a hole into the side of head. "Take it."

"No."

"Terra."

"Marcus, I don't need it."

"You didn't have breakfast." He reached out to touch the bruise I'd almost forgotten about. "And you're hurt."

I jerked away from his hand. "That'll go away. You need to eat too."

"Not really." He shrugged, pushing around the mashed potatoes. "We don't do anything the whole day. We're free to roam but most people are either too tired, or too in pain. Or just plain refuse any human contact to do anything together."

I turned to see his head dangling sadly. My lips pressed together in a final resistance before giving in.

"Fine." I snapped. Reaching out, I picked up the chocolate and the cup of milk. "That's all I'll take. You eat the rest or I'll slam that tray on your head."

He raised his head to grin at me. I knew I'd let myself get played but he was a persistent dog. As we kept our trays back, I stood there listlessly, wondering what to do.

"Want to go outside?"

I frowned, looking up at him. I'd forgotten how tall he was. A head over me. "Outside? Aren't we underground?"

"It's artificial sunlight but real grass." He grinned down at me, starting to walk. "It's nice to walk barefoot in it."

Real grass was a luxury only available to people who had more space than they needed. Space that didn't have someone living on it. There was soil available but honestly, there were barely enough resources for us half the time it was hard to imagine taking care of a plant.

There weren't a lot of people 'outside'. A few others followed us out but they seemed to be veterans of this place. It was a fake ceiling, fake sun, fake sunlight. The warmth from it felt real enough if you closed your eyes,if a bit dull, like sunlight on cloudy days.

"Happy birthday." I spoke up after a while, looking up from the grass and managing a smile.

Surprise passed through his eyes. "What?"

"Your mother gave me half your birthday cake a few days ago. Belated wishes but happy birthday."

I saw his eyes soften and he looked down at his feet as he walked. A smile on his face, the first true smile I'd seen from him.

"A birthday..." He was still smiling, not looking at me as he spoke. "I'm eighteen now."

I grimaced for him. I could feel his pain. The two of us had been so close to freedom. Him, less than a month away. It must hurt worse.

"I know it's a sick way to think of it." He continued. "But in a way, you're a gift." I cocked an eyebrow. "I was... I was starting to lose it here. It's only been a month here but... people leave so fast."

It took a while but with a start I realised by leave he means die. Experiments like these weren't without their costs, of course. The only problem was that the State never cared about the costs in an attempt to achieve their superior army. Or the fact that their costs meant our friends, our family. Me.