by Caitlin Yarosz
Leonard Mead sat in the backseat of the otherwise empty police car, watching the tombstone-like houses pass by. A small fear flickered in his heart.
"What if they make me one of those barely animated corpses, like those zombies of society? What if they kill me?"
He shook the thought from his mind and refused to think until they arrived at their destination.
It was a large, gray building, the large, black letters spelling "Psychiatric Center" doing nothing to lighten the atmosphere. He vaguely remembered his father telling him how all the signs used to be brightly illuminated, that cities had more sparkling lights than the universe had stars. How he missed his father, but he could not dwell on that because a tall, thick man in sunglasses and a gray suit was approaching the vehicle. The door automatically opened and, without a word, the man removed Leonard Mead and escorted him into the building.
They passed wooden door after wooden door until the man pushed him into one room where a man sat with his back to the intruder. He slowly turned and took in Leonard's appearance. "You were the one that was walking. Leonard Mead, is that correct?"
"Yes. Sir, why am I here? I did nothing wrong."
"You are a very strange man... Why were you walking?"
"I'm sure you are already aware of my reasoning," said Leonard.
"You are a smart man," the business man said with discretion. Something in the narrowing of his eyes told Leonard that being as smart as he was probably wasn't a positive thing, and it was more than likely worse than being called strange. "I'm afraid we will have to keep you under observation. You seem to be regressing back to the last generations. We have never heard a case quite like this. Humans are a very lazy race, I will admit."
"I refuse to become a lab rat! I will not be caged up and tested on."
"I'm afraid that's not your decision to make."
Strong hands gripped Leonard Mead's arms. He vainly attempted to struggle free, but it was no use. He was lead to a thick, metal door with a giant lock, not unlike a freezer. He was shoved in, where upon he had to squint to get adjusted to the suddenly bright lights. When his eyes finally accepted the blinding brightness, he realized it wasn't necessarily that the room was extravagantly lit, but instead it was completely white. They thought him mental!
He ran to the door and banged on it, regardless of the fact he knew it wouldn't open. "Let me out! This is utterly inhumane!"
His cries went unheeded and he resigned himself to look around the room. There was a single, white bed, and a white plasma viewing screen, but other than that, the immaculate room was completely bare.
Leonard Mead knew he wasn't bleeding or injured. He knew he wasn't about to face a gun or knife or deadly poison, but he knew without a doubt that his very being was about to meet its demise.