Draft

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It was hot. The sun sent down angry waves, beating the civilization beneath it out of frustration. The sound of silence broke his concentration every time, as Kristian Madison tried to scrawl his name on the draft form.
“Mama said that is you fold it the right way, like an accordion,” Kristian thought, “you’ll get drawn every time.”
As he dropped his form in the box, Kristian looked up at the church, with its menacing barbed wire all around, and sirens in the steeple, not bells.
“It was designed to keep people like me out,” he realized. He couldn’t see what was so wrong with genesis. They say the sky is green, with specks of red, that the air isn’t polluted with chemicals. But most of all, your records are erased. It’s a fresh start.
Kristian spit on the fence; the sparks danced their little jig. Iceland has been sleepy ever since the priests got guns. Most left, but not us. No, it’s too expensive. Safety shouldn’t be something to be frugal about.
“KRISTIAN!” someone bellowed from behind him, “GET AWAY FROM THERE NOW!”
As he turned to see his mother crying, a red dot from above shone on his arm and all around him.
A crack sounded, like a rocket-powered whip. Kristian felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and the hues of brown and yellow from the town faded into a vibrant white, like a star exploding.
Sleep
The beeping snuck in through Kristian’s ear cavity, uninvited, but stoppable. Kristian tried to think, to see, to feel. Nothing. All he could do is hear, and wait.
A sharp pain suddenly worked its way into his spine. Then came the cold, sweeping over his body like a flood. Everything was already black, but it found a way to get backer. The repetition of the beep was creeping its way into the core of his brain. He could feel it working. He could sense its location. It was getting closer and closer to the center of his brain by the second. It moved slowly, but predictably. Kristian didn’t even care what was on, or in, his brain. The instant it hit the stem, the piercing exploded, into a more threatening burst of nothingness. A cold dead hand reached to wipe the drool off of his chin.
Trance
Kristian knew nothing of time anymore. The repetition of the same sounds started to fade, but the pulse stayed within. He had no emotions, only awareness of the ones surrounding him.
Isolated, and the cold. Oh the cold! He was freezing to death, but he shook no shivers, and saw no frost. The cold wasn’t temperature, you see, but it was there.
Kristian’s body had started to grow apart from his head. He almost swallowed his tongue when he felt the surge of energy.
Awakening
Kristian’s muscles tensed, and released, making sure they all were there. The fire in his eyes was glaring, his ears cringed at the slightest sound, yet alone the deafening chaos around him. He could feel his brain touching his skull, resulting in a nauseating migraine.
He started noticing his surroundings. Cold metals and dry air. Everything was dark except for the violet blue glow of the black light. He could notice other people, but he didn’t care. He was out for himself, as he was sure the others were too.
One person, whose clothes were glowing because of the light, ran some tests to make sure Kristian survived the journey. She explained that his body had been stalemated. Like being cryogenically frozen, but no ice. Your body just stops.
Adaption
The light was brighter now and the sounds were normal. Physical therapists had arrived, to get everyone back in shape to walk, and function without machines.
A man beside Kristian took a leap off his bed, as the therapist was screaming in his ear to get him to stop. The second his feet hit the floor, his legs snapped in two. He was immediately disposed of.
The therapy was bad, but nothing compared to the internal stalemate his body had been induced in, at least months before.
Realization
Something was wrong about this place. Kristian’s nerves itched and squirmed. Normally, after smelling the same thing for a while, your nose gets used to it, but here, on this ship, it seemed to get worse with time.
Something was extremely wrong. There were less and less people as time went on. They all seemed to disappear after they went through the door.
The door. There were thousands of doors on the ship, but none like this one. Ascetically, it looked exactly the same as the rest. It was the same height, the same color, and it had no windows. But something about it was terribly different.
There was an energy that radiated from there. Here on this planet, things like death clung to the air, and that door was, without a doubt, the point source.
The attendants started to change too. Kristian could have sworn he saw sparks fly from one. This explained their blank stares and cold personality. Can robots have personality?
It was only a matter of time before it was his turn to go through the door, and he had a sense it wouldn’t be long.
Fate
The second Kristian awoke that morning, he could feel it. There were no warnings, no sirens, and no hints. He just knew. Krisitan didn’t even notice the plasma restraints he wore when he woke up.
The second his eyes opened, an attendant rushed to his side. Kristian was injected with some alien drug, for reasons he was unsure of. He felt no different with the drug running through him, the uninvited liquids confusing his brain chemicals.
The wheeling of the chair seemed inevitable, and he didn’t attempt to fight it. He knew he would go.
The door was opened, and the pressure of the different rooms popped his ears.
Death
There were racks, with razors and saws, and alien needles, as far as he cared to look. He was laid down to a 180-degree angle, and the light blinded him severely.
Defeat
He didn’t care.
Kristian watched the knives and saws cut into his flesh. He felt the pain. He smelled the blood. He heard the tearing. He knew what was happening. He wasn’t dreaming. He just didn’t care. Kristian closed his eyes in defeat, and heard the beeps work their way back into his brain, letting it sweep him over like a flood, one last time.





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