Yeah, so basically I was bored in my tech class last week. Really bored. Bored enough to write up a random short story. My goal was to create more questions than answers, and confuse anyone who read it. Actually, I don't know what my goal was. I made it up as I went along.
Diago’s eye twitched as the sirens wailed. Pulses all over the complex quickened whenever that siren went off, and for good reason. They don’t like to be kept waiting, do they? Of course not. Every second wasted means less profit, and nobody in the complex wants to be responsible for a decrease in production. Nobody wants to face the Review Squad, especially with their tendency to become very violent, very quickly. Diago knew all of this, having worked and lived in the complex for most of his life. Then again, he also knew that seniority mattered little to them, and if he didn’t arrive in the next minute it would all be over. This time it wouldn’t just be a leg. Oh no, the squadwould be able to have their real fun with him this time. Then would come the sands.
Wincing with pain, Diago dragged his left leg as fast as he could down the poorly lit hallway. He knew his existence was at their mercy. Between being cast out into the blight and slaving for the company his entire life, he would take slavery. Sure, he had his own office, room, clothes, and companionship whenever he wished, but it was slavery all the same. Looking past the exterior, Diago owned basically nothing. He knew that the only thing keeping him from the sands and what lies beneath happened to be his peculiar ability. Moments slipped away as he painfully hobbled as best he could, and the seconds marched alongside his hurried stride.
How many minutes did he have left? Judging from the faces he passed, Diago guessed not much. Twitch. Twitch. His destination lay ahead, yet he stopped cold. Seconds dwindled away relentlessly as his mind battled with itself. A good demonstration could mean promotion, rewards, success. On the other hand, a poor demonstration meant the Review Squad, and further deterioration of his own health. His own time in the ranks of the Review Squad taught him of the limits of man, and he had no mind to face them on the other side of the table.
Taking a risk and overstepping his boundaries would prove disastrous, though. The squad cared nothing for his gift or his position, even when he had proved exceptional at the tasks assigned during his stay in their ranks. Coldness and efficiency replaced fellowship in the squad, and Diago’s own ruthless nature no doubt gained himself more enemies than friends. So he moved forward, and leaned against the heavy doors.
Awaiting him were the head ministers of each of the massive complex’s 5 departments. One among them had the distinction of holding the middle seat, though. Jacques D’ Marcus sat in-between the other four departments. His greasy dark hair flopped in front of his eyebrows, prominent in contrast to his small beetle eyes, sunken into his face above swollen bags. One would almost expect a hooked nose with a devilish handlebar moustache below them on this man. The position of Uniformity Enforcement Director certainly had taken a toll on his features.
Diago could remember a smiling, youthful boy from his past, eager for activity when it was time for his unit’s daily exercise hour. Jacques had provided much-needed friendship, and the possibility of a betrayal would never have so much as flittered across his old friend’s thoughts. He knew better now. Friendship takes a back-seat to opportunity, it seems. Still, it was shocking to see what the stress of being U.E.D had done to his childhood friend in only a few years.
Of course, greed and corruption take their own tolls on a person’s body and mind as well. Even a close former friend wouldn’t hesitate to put him in the hands of the squad if this went badly, and after the recent incident it would be hard to blame him. People fear what they don’t understand, and Diago barely understood it himself. He could see it in their eyes. A shining eagerness and expectation, with an underlying terror.
Understandable, since the few instances of these sort of abilities have all required a sacrifice, and neither Diago nor the board had any idea what sort of sacrifice he was making. Did someone, unknown and alone, suffer every time his ability surfaced? Was he deteorating, not knowing how or why until it was too late? Muddy dreams and unspecified pains held the key, but Diago could not reach it nor understand it. Regardless, if he did not please the majority of the board none of it would matter. The riddle of his power, along with his life, would be snuffed out by the Squad.
Well, they were waiting, and they don’t like to be kept waiting. The five of them seemed patient and calm to the eye, but were fevered within. Ignoring the boring pain in his knee, Diago concentrated. The time had come.
Topic: Random short story (Read 3837 times)
