The world is at its height. People are perfect, mentally. Their morals are set in stone, their IQs at the very top, everyone. Brilliance is the norm. There are no incurable mental diseases in anyone. Any sign of one, then their parents or anyone would turn them in. Then they would go…where? Very few people know where they go. The only ones who do are dead or are in the Storm Unit, like my father is. In fact, my father in the Highest Storm Unit Leader of the region we live in.
I was sitting at school in the cafeteria, alone except for my best friend, Gloria. (People tend to avoid me see, like I’m some sort of freak. They say I talk to imaginary people…. I don’t know why they’d think that though...) I watched as three men in full Storm Unit uniform walk through the door. At first I ignored them, assuming that they were in my imagination. The men advanced, slowly but surely. The cafeteria of mentally perfect teenagers went completely silent. The men closed in on…. Me? Why me? I’m not crazy, I’m normal! What reason would they have- They grabbed me from behind and bound my hands to my back. There was no ignoring them now…I screamed, “Help me help! I’m not crazy! I don’t need to be taken, I don’t need to be locked up! No….Please! Help!” They dragged me onward. The perfect students watched silently, emotionless, with their morals about the perfect human race locked, immovable in their perfect minds. “People with a disease must be removed from their midst. They must not be allowed to spread or teach or force their disease upon other people. Perfect people.”
The men, speaking in what sounded like garbled language, tossed me into a truck, then knocked me out. When I woke up, I was lying in a small, dark room made of brick. The only light was a dim sun coming from a tiny window. Gloria appeared.  “Where are we?” I inquired. No response. “Gloria?” She just looked at me. Then she was gone. Not much later, (who knows how long…it could have been days, or just minutes) two Storm Unit officers came to escort me to the place only imagined by perfect people, the People’s Court.  (Courtrooms are rare, as no one commits crimes.) I was too tired to protest. I sat down in the solitary chair in the middle of the room. Directly in front of and raised above me was a chair for the judge with a podium in front of it and several smaller chairs on either side of it for the council. The judge walked in, dressed in red robes and wearing a cylindrical red hat. He was the Highest Storm Unit Leader. My dad.
He asked, “Where’s your friend?”
“Gloria?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know…she was here earlier.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
Silence. The judge, my dad, stared off into the distance, not looking at me. Did I imagine a tear, or was that just my mind making up images?
He suddenly yelled, making me start:
“You have no friends. Everyone you see is false! Your primitive mind sees people that are not there! You are diseased!”
“I’m NOT!”
He took a deep breath, his perfect mind clearly struggling.
“You are! You’re a sick, disgusting schizophrenic excuse for a human being. You are NOT a human being! You are not, not, not my daughter!” He paused, closing his eyes for just a split second. “You are a parasite, feeding on the good will of others as you walk along your way, an useless, hostile animal that begs for affection, that needs to be controlled for the sake of others, that needs to be but down when it is incurably sick!”
“Dad…Please.”
“Your very existence in this world is polluting this region which I must purify." His voice rose in a crescendo.  "You would fill it up with imperfect people with imperfect minds if you were allowed to live!”
“Don’t you understand, father? Please, please don’t… please don’t kill me! What defines a person? Their mental perfection? I’m not the one with the disease! It’s you and….”
“Stop. Filth. Take her away. To the gas chambers. Perfection must be kept. Perfection must be kept.”