The Code

The Cut

                                   I
Trust was never made for the blue. It was given to the yellow as freely as air, whilst the green had to earn it.

Considering that Kyani didn’t know whether she was blue, green or yellow she counted herself as one of the free, outside the society’s code, even though that made her blue to the rest of the city.

Once she had tried to pass as yellow, but since then she had decided that she utterly despised the yellow.

Completely embracing the outsiders’ opinion of herself she downed a vial of translucent liquid. Her scalp, tingling and burning, slowly let out a blue tinge that covered her long hair.

“I want to chop it,” said Kyani.

“That’ll be ten extra,” answered the stylist.

Kyani uncovered her wrist where a black bracelet hang tight, the back of the bracelet was supposed to be embedded in her skin, but instead this ones sharp needles were filed smooth against her skin. She lifted her arm toward the stylist, “take them then.”

The stylist uncovered his own wrist and pressed his bracelet against Kyani’s, then said, “Request for ten units.”

“Request accepted, confirm.” A quiet counting sound echoed through the room as Kyani’s units transferred to the stylist.

“How short do you want it?” He put his hand just below my shoulders to show where he’d want to cut it. “This is the current trend in Upper City.”

But Kyani was feeling daring and gestured for him to cut it below her ears and in front to cut a short fringe, a style most common among the blue.

“Embracing the roots, I see,” commented the stylist. “You could even pass as a yellow though, are you sure you want to be this distinctively recognised as a blue?”

The problem with being able to pass as anything was also never belonging and that left you alone and scared, so Kyani was sure when she said, “just cut it.”

The stylist himself was green, judging by his exposed glowing veins on his arms.

Kyani’s veins didn’t glow as bright and were an indistinctive grey with tinges of all three code colours – blue, green and yellow.

The stylist put on gloves and with a swift motion grabbed her hair at her desired length. The hair below his hands easily dropped to the floor and he released his grip. Kyani looked at herself in the mirror as the stylist cut her fringe. When he was done she could barely recognise herself as most of her life she had sported long black hair after the fashion of Capital City.

But this new look suited her even better. Deep inside a thought arose. Maybe she really was supposed to be blue.

The stylist frowned at her delay, “There are mirrors covering this whole building. Please leave the styling station. I have other customers waiting in line.” Kyani rose and thanked the stylist.

Just as she reached for the handle on the exit it opened and a tall yellow woman stepped in. “Honestly, why do you even offer service to filthborn, Dorlan?” She spat at the stylist whilst giving Kyani a disgusted look.

“Units are units,” answered Dorlan. “Now please stop troubling my other clients and sit down.”

She went, happy to get away from a new made blue.

“The regular check-up for you, Torra?” asked Dorlan. Kyani couldn’t hear her answer because she was already outside the salon.

A swarm of greens pretending to be yellows waited in line to refresh their haircuts after the billboards in Upper City. Then as a gunshot echoed through the street and a body of a blue man slumped against a street light, his glowing veins extinguishing and blue blood pooling beneath him, none of the foolish greens so much as bat an eye.

If only they could see that yellow and blue made green.