Eugenia

A surprise Sci-fi flash fiction.

All was perfect. Lines of pristine white. Not a wrinkle, nor a frown. Perfect rows of perfect bodies. Perfectly manufactured creatures. Were they human? DN43 had read this word “human”, though he could not recall where and when. One of the reasons he stood in this line sliding onward reverently was the glitch in his memory. DN43 or Dean as the closest allies called him, took a deep breath, and looked at his hands. Human, where had he read it? If only he could remember. Was he a human?

His councilor frowned after Dean shared this strange glitch haunting him. Dean had done the right thing. Always consult your personal councilor when confronted by anything unusual, read the rules. Dean followed the rules. They all did.

“And this word “human”, you have no memories where you read or heard it?” Dean had never seen the face of his councilor frowning.

“No.”

The councilor regained his calm expression and gave Dean a kind smile.

“Dean, only perfection serves well. If your brain keeps producing a glitch, and uncertain memories are a glitch, you must serve your fellow allies and your Community by joining the Recycling program. Nothing is more important than serving the Community. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded. His memory had been functioning perfectly up until recent days. He remembered the instructions. The visual guides. All the smiling faces of those defective, all those with imperfections whether mental or physical, sitting in pristine white rooms of the Recycling centers of city Eugenia, serving the perpetual goal of complete perfection, all those reverently smiling faces when the robotic needle injected them with the lethal substance, closing their eyes before the smiles faded. What a blissful way of serving their closest allies, serving the Community!

Dean did not want to smile. Alienated from his own body, he stood on the escalator of bodies dressed in perfect white overalls, with bare arms, made for easier access to their blood vessels. The line of bodies ascended to the highest goal – death by serving the Community! Elimination to preserve perfection! Dean knew he should be smiling, yet he could not. Why?

It was the only goal he knew. It was how all their lives ended. From coming out the incubators in the Eugenics centers, to nurseries where they received perfect nutrition, to Education centers where they spent most of their younger years. To the perfect white living cells, and work units they were assigned to as young adults.

You are a perfect cell in the body of your Community. You must serve your allies. Individualism is defective. The Community is the embodiment of perfection! Serve it! These were the words Dean should’ve been contemplating. Not this “human”.

This word was uncommon in the city of Eugenia. A word with an ancient ring to it. Dean caught himself thinking about it even as he rode to his elimination in the Recycling center. His thoughts raced faster and harder as he moved onward – suddenly Dean remembered reading that the word “human” had been cancelled due to lack of political correctness; other species, and especially Androids had found it discriminating and even threatening their existence. In the perfect Community, absolute tolerance was a necessity. Dean knew this. So, why were his own thoughts imperfect? Noncompliant. There was a glitch in him. Dean had always known there was something wrong about him. A glitch of imperfection only waiting for a chance to surface. He was almost relieved it finally revealed itself in the haunting presence of the word “human”.

As the line of his allies moved into a corridor, lines of doors swooshed open. Each one of his allies stepped into the next vacant ward. Dean knew what expected there. A white chair. Straps to hold the arms steady. A short visual instruction guide. A needle approaching. You will feel no pain, the instruction would remind over and over. The needle piercing the skin. The injection of the lethal substance. Falling asleep with the smile. The body unwrapped from the clothing by robots. A cryo container in the Recycling ward where the body is deposited to be examined. The peculiar specimens transported to Eugenics centers. All others slid into Recycling tubes to be recycled into energy created by the rotting process.

Dean remembered the instructions perfectly. The door swooshed open for him. He didn’t understand why his heart pounded like never before. Human, human, human his brain mocked him, repeating over and over. Dean looked at his perfect muscled arms, at his own palms. Human, human, human… No, this glitch had to be stopped! Dean stepped into the ward waiting for him. The door swooshed closed. Pristine white walls. A chair. Robotic devices hovering above it. A surveillance camera on the white ceiling.

Please, take a seat, ally DN43! You have made the right choice. Nothing is more important than serving to perfect the Community, a voice urged him to proceed with the Recycling.

Dean had never felt his heart racing this madly. He sat on the chair. As the automatic straps bound his arms, all he wished was to rip them off.

A video projection visualized in front of him. The instructions he knew well. The straps were designed to prevent failed injections, which might cause the Recycling process to be painful. Dean didn’t want to feel pain. Nobody did. Pain was the ultimate evil in the city of Eugenia. Pain, individualism, and imperfect glitches. Dean wanted to be a good ally. That’s why he came here.

The robotic arm sprayed some anesthetic substance on the spot of the injection. Dean wanted to be good. Human human human, rang through his mind. The needle moved closer held firmly by the robotic arm.

You will feel no pain. You will feel no pain, the instruction kept humming in his ears. Human human human, his mind screamed louder than ever. The needle looked larger than in the visual instruction guides. Dean felt the sweat flowing down his forehead. His heart pounded. The needle was huge.

Dean didn’t know how or why but he gave the strangest yawp, kicked and screamed, and ripped his arms out the straps, punched the needle so hard, it fell to the floor, the lethal substance spilled from the bare opening of the robotic arm. Dean pushed it aside, jumped to his feet, rammed the door, and it gave in, swooshing.

Dean fell onto the floor of the corridor, got up, and ran against the perfect stream of other bodies moving onward in a neat line.

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Thank you for reading!