[WP] "Due to unpaid rent, your water, electricity, and oxygen will be shut off at midnight."
Felix looks to the speaker embedded in the side of the wall. The continuous television streaming from the screen in the wall, constantly running commercials, and the Colony's updates. It could never be turned off, only turned down to a lower volume. The doors of his sparsely decorated living quarters had been locked two weeks ago. He had been waiting for this.
This was what he had wanted, no?
To pass quietly into the night, asphyxiating and dying in the dark. Over the past few weeks, he had given up, feeling nothing but despondency. He had used up all his social credits doing nothing and wandering around the thirty-by-thirty foot space. He looks around the white room, everything so glaringly white. A white treadmill for exercising, which they were expected to do thirty minutes every day. It would give him time on his rent clock if he did it. The white drawers that housed his white clothing, and the hamper which removed them. The white sheets and comforter of his bed, that could entirely be pulled into the wall to give the illusion of space. While within the wall, it would be changed by unseen hands, or perhaps only mechanical ones now. He rarely paid any attention to what had become his prison. The small white kitchenette which took his dirty dishes and dispensed new food. If he ate, he was given social credits. A white scale, and a white toilet, all of which calculated his weight and did an analysis of his excrement and urine to give him the appropriate food to keep him healthy and fit. A small shower partially encased in frosted glass. Nothing but the illusion of privacy. After he had entered his room, the loud beep signaled he had arrived as the door opened; the lights and the television had come on.
And then, he had made his choice.
When the doors had locked with a note of finality two weeks ago, he had known he was making a choice he could not return from. He was no longer allowed to leave unless he did his expected actions. Eat. Exercise. Even doing that would hold over his planned execution by upping his social credits, but the lethargy of no longer giving a fuck had settled in. As many before him had done, they simply let themselves 'time out' as it was called. He hadn't always felt this way. He had been talking most days with Simone-Nine-Two and had found himself wanting to get closer. But they weren't permitted to even touch. The Guardians wouldn't allow it. Only sanctioned breeding was permitted, and any physical contact of any kind was forbidden. No hand-holding. Much less press their foreheads together and whisper conspiratorially as they often expressed quietly that they had wanted to. She had always been a light in his quiet days of drone work. Until one day, she had disappeared. Others said she had willfully 'timed out'. Felix had simply nodded, and carried on with his day. Showing emotion was frowned upon, and they often hid their smiles or any show of sadness under strict masks of nonchalance. But the eyes, they could say so much without the rest of the face. And he had seen her eyes getting sadder. The last day he had seen her, they had been bright with intensity, a sort of madness, and now he knew why. He had counted down the days in his head. Wondering if like himself, her social credits only left her with three weeks. And on the twenty-first day, he had excused himself from his drone work, saying he felt unwell. He was excused, and that was the last day he had left his apartment. After a week, the doors had locked, and he had remained. Pacing his cage, and refusing to do anything to keep himself alive. As the minutes tick down, he stares at the white walls and smiles. First, the lights dim in a warning. Half an hour left. He still had time to go to his treadmill. To eat something. To weigh himself. To change his soiled clothes. To shower. All would give him social credits. At least long enough for him to live until morning when could do it all over again and start to regain their trust. Their trust. The Colony's trust. That he was a good worker bee and would behave. Show them this was all a misunderstanding. A mere moment of hesitancy, and simply a brief period of malaise. But he refuses. Simply laying back on his bed, ready for his demise and looking forward to it. A soft beeping begins when there are only five minutes left, and a clock with frighteningly red numbers appears on the television screen. It was the only time in his entire life he had seen the commercials and updates interrupted. It was the last warning of those who were desperate enough to step back from the edge of timing out. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Simply enjoying his last minutes of oxygen and life. He hoped it wouldn't be too painful, but he was too far deep to try and stop it now anyway. Two minutes. He thinks of Simone-Nine-Two, and those mischievous eyes. He thinks of how he was escaping the tyranny in the only way he knew how. He thinks of how he is escaping. How people would whisper that he timed out before he became forgotten amongst the other names of those who timed out. One minute. He takes another deep breath, fear tingling up the back of his scalp as he faces the unknown of death. He expects darkness. Brief torture, and then… Release. He would be free of this place. Thirty seconds. He takes another deep breath and feels a lone tear track down the side of his face. Staring at the ceiling, he prepares himself mentally. And then, a loud beep signals someone opening the door. Sitting up, he looks at the open doorway in shock. Standing in the doorway is Simone-Nine-Two. The timer is still counting down, and the lights flicker but return to their glaring brightness. He blinks against the sudden harsh whiteness, and in confusion. She holds out her hand, offering it to him, "Get up. We have to go. Now." EDIT: If there are spacing and font issues , I'm sorry, transferring from Word really does a number on these posts. My apologies in advance!P.S. Inspiration was gathered from "The Island" and "Running Man".
