This one has been sitting on my computer for a LONG time and I thought I'd pull it out for Halloween. But first, it requires some explanation.
I wrote this after watching the 2k3 episode Dragon's Brew and if you haven't seen it, get thee to youtube and come back because this will make no sense otherwise.
In the episode, there were two things that prompted this. At one point Bishop told one if his men that if he hadn't done x in thirty seconds he would be 'volunteering for genetic research'. And then, as the episode progressed, it was made apparent that the creature being fought used to be a human in some sort of military who had undergone 'genetic research' and whose family believed him to have died. My brain cooked up this.
What would you do if you knew the exact day that you would die, right down to the minute?
Say goodbye to your loved ones and friends? Party? Find some stunning vista to look out over as the moment comes?
What if you couldn't do any of those things? What if your last day was spent in disgrace within a concrete bunker, counting the hours until you walk through your very last door. No goodbyes, no celebrations of life. The only vistas you see are in the photos among your personal effects which you gather up to be shipped off to your family with a cookie-cutter letter of condolence.
On your last day, you walk down the halls toward The Door. Everyone knows and no one will meet your eye, but you can feel them staring at your back, catching one last glimpse. Everyone watches with barely veiled mistrust. People who sat down to a drink and a hand of cards with you just last week now refuse to look you in the eye. They are good soldiers, scoping out the possible threats, even if you are not one. Yet.
You reach The Door and someone is there to meet you. You salute. He escorts you inside. The first few minutes are a blur of official paperwork. A scientist meets you, verifies your identity, and is gone. Another comes with a sheet of paper. He looks at his watch and signs it, then gives it to the officer who escorted you in. The officer holds out a bag to you and you remove your dog-tags, releasing the last vestiges of your identity.
He takes the death certificate and dog-tags and leaves you with the scientists.
You are officially and legally dead. The scientist comes back and leads you to a plastic chair. On a table next to it, the stark fluorescent light gleams off of the metal tray holding an empty syringe and a new set of dog-tags. They bear no name. Only a number. Today is the day that you die so that E-72531SM can come into existence- and what you have now cannot be called 'life' by any stretch of the imagination.
Everything you have has been taken from you. Everything you are will be taken in time and you, the person you are, everything that makes you the thinking feeling individual you are, will cease to exist.
Welcome to Hell.
Thank you for reading! Have a safe Halloween.