Fiction: Group 4
It was not hard to find Mother’s room as there’s only one that hadn’t been demolished to the ground.
There was a body with white cloth over it, and some candles surrounding it.
What was odd is that there were photos showing officials giving speeches and with a language that was
similar but somehow much more complicated than mine. Although some bits were scratched off violently, I
could read out a part of the description below them.
“The government has … the timetable to … the … in 2017 in 2007. The … set limits for the 2016 …
Council election and 2017 Chief Executive … on 31 … 2014. Yet, some … have doubts … the decision
and … a large scale protest called … Central.”
I remembered hearing these phrases somewhere before…from a phone? I remembered these phrase
were said, repeated, anxiously, trying to persuade the person on the other end to wake up for this dream.
I lifted the cloth.
To discover that there was no face under it.
But an amber umbrella. Amber...umbrella. Catchy.
I heard steady footsteps behind me.
I turned behind and screamed.
“Shh…shh…It’s okay. It’s me, Daddy.” He calmed me down with his hands.
He was a tall man with a red bandana, and had a wide grin.
“Really? You’re my Dad?” I said with excitement.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…And you’re my girl.” He had a sweet voice.
“But where’s Mommy?” I questioned.
“Mommy is in heaven now, sweetheart. They buried her well to make sure she gets there.”
“Now listen carefully. Daddy wants a picture of you, so that Mommy up there can see it and rest in
peace. Okay?”
“Okay.” I grabbed the umbrella and held it above my head, acting cute.
“Ready…” He pulled out what resembled a large and long camera from his back.
“Cheese!” I did my brightest smile, like the one I showed Lucy.
The last thing I saw was the red laser dot in front of me.
He stared at me with dismal eyes, through the hologram projector on the desk in from of him. All of his
fury had turned to horror. He had no choice but to watch the scene as there was only darkness and
unbreakable chains that held him.
“Oh, Eleftheria…my child…why has innocence made you pay the price? … we should not have strived
for that pointless referend…” The stone-sharpened blade fell on a precise spot between the neck and the
head, with the laser penetrating my brain, leaving nothing but a trail of red.
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Subject 2047.
Harrison Bergeron Syndrome.
Execution executed.
