by Evie Burns
The air raid sirens screamed. I thought I was going to die. Yes, I would die, and I had accepted it. But now, here I was still alive. In a strange room. I felt reality fading away.
Suddenly, I heard the kind voice of a caring woman. “Your name is Keisha,” the voice whispered.
“No, it isn’t. It’s–” I got cut off.
The colour of the room changed to black. I started screaming as thousands of tiny needles dug into my skin. It was terrifying. I felt like I was watching a movie of myself replying: “Yes, my name is Keisha.”
I had no control over what I was saying.
The woman replied, “Yes. Your number is 1023.”
My mindless self did not reply, and in a brief time I was back seeing things through my own eyes.
*
I was being dragged along a conveyor belt. I looked behind me and saw flames licking the end of the conveyor belt, waving to me in greeting and waiting to consume me. I tried to scream in terror but agonisingly realised I had no mouth. There was just an impression of my old mouth imprinted on my face. I started crying, all the while screaming silently. I needed to get out of this hell.
At the other end of the conveyor belt there were people. They all looked around my age and they all looked terrified. Out of nowhere, a huge robotic hand reached down to the thousands of people and started playing with them as if they were toys. One human was lifted and dropped, falling to his death.
I started moving the other way, stopping suddenly when I realised the fire was there. If I was not going to make it, I at least wanted a quick death. I frantically weighed up my options. Burn to death or die by a robotic hand. I chose the flames. As I was carried closer, I stood and ran towards them, screaming silently in defiance. I jumped into the flames.
*
I was back in the room I had started in. The lady who had spoken to me earlier was there again. In a burst of anger and emotion I yelled at her, “You! Why am I here and what is happening?”
The lady calmly replied, her voice devoid of any emotion, “Next test.”
*
I was at school under my desk with my best friend. She was crying. Loud bangs could be heard from outside the classroom. A tall, hooded man kicked the door in, and I immediately realised we were all at gunpoint. “Let’s play Simon Says,” he said, in a sinister voice with a smile.
I immediately listened closely.
He pointed his gun at everyone. “Hands on your heads,” he yelled, putting his own hands on his head.
Everyone was too paralysed with fear to think straight and immediately obeyed. I did not.
A sadistic smile slowly crept over his face as the others realised the magnitude of their mistake.
BANG!
*
Again, I found myself back in the room I had started in.
“2389, 0918, 6723 and 1023. Well done,” she said. “Welcome to the program.”
