I've been having a lot of issues lately, so I've decided to start writing again. This is a story I've been working on for about an hour, or an hour and a half. It's not that original, but I think it's a cool concept, I might try to adapt it for this years theatre contest.
Uknown Name, Unknown Number.
By Josh Anzalone
Station 12, a place where new arrivals are recorded. They step off the train and into the metropolis that is City 33, they are immediatly taken to stand in a line, their barcodes are scanned, and they are recorded into the City's memory bank. Everyone in the city is accounted for, they can go no where without the government police knowing where they are, the police track their every move.
There is a new train arriving in station 12, in city 33; it's a small load, only four men on the rail car, but it's one of the most important arrivals station 12 will ever receive. As the doors open a metro police officer steps up to the rail car to usher the new arrivals into the proper line. The police officer is dressed in a black jump suit, and what appears to be a gas mask, hiding all his physical features. Three of the four men start to step off, but one remains sitting, looking inquisitivly at the police officer. "You!" the police officer says, trying to get his attention, "Citizen, stand up and come with the rest of them, now." he stressed the last word, jabbing his finger at the ground, motioning him to come to the door.
The sitting man stood up and started walking toward the front of the rail car. He was dressed in a blue zip up jumpsuit, standard issued to new arrivals, after their cleansing and delousing, before they are set up on a train. As he moved toward the front of the train the light highlighted his features, he has a strong jawline, and features set in stone, his black hair complimented his chilly yellow eyes. He wasn't a very intimidating man, only standing at six feet, and though he looked thin and weak he was actually very strong.
He joined the officer at the front of the train, when the officer promptly turned around and lead the four men through a small, cramped, alleyway. There were no branches or breakoffs from this alleyway, only a small fence and gate at the very end, where more metro police would be standing. One at a time the four men stepped through a turnstyle composed of perpendicular bars. Once they reached the other side of the fence the police handcuffed them, and pushed them against the wall, they pulled down the back of their shirts, revealing a barcode just at the top of the back, above the shoulders.
All the men moved through the turnstyle, one, two, three, but their was a problem with number four. They handcuffed him, his hands behind his back, and pushed him against the wall, they spread his legs apart with their battons, and searched him running their hands over the length of his body, searching for any make-shift weapons. Once they were convinced he was defenseless they prepared to check his barcode. One officer held his head to the wall, with a firm hand on the back of his head, and another pulled down the back of his shirt, but there was no barcode where one should have been. The police looked from one to the other, "what is this?" one asked looking at the others, "All are to have been labeled at birth, how can this one have no label?" they talked amongst themselves, like the labeless man was nothing more than a can of soup.
A small door cattycorner the the turnstyle was flung open and another police officer stepped out, "You!" he spoke loud and strong, "Come with me citizen, we will have you labeled and send to your proper place." The citizen was given a shove toward the door, nearly falling over. He mindlessly followed the officer through the door, which was slammed shut behind him.
The officer led him through a long corridor, there were doors on either side of him, labeled simply with a number and a letter. 1A, then 1B, 1C, and the same was on the next floor, after they ascended a flight of stairs, 2A, then 2B, and 2C, it seemed likely all the doors would be labelled like this though the entire building. They stopped at 3F on the next floor up. The policer pulled a card from his pocket, which was attatched to his belt by a drawstring. it was then the citizen realized their was no doorknob where their should have been one, instead there was a smooth metal box, with a small seperation, where the card would be inserted.
The officer slid his card into the slot and there were several small clicks, after which the door popped open. They entered the dimmly lit room. There were four walls to this room, to the left of the entrance was a computer console, and large screens which covered the entire wall. The monitors filled the room with blue filtered light. Across from the entrace was a blank wall with another door, this one had a door handle. The room was painted white, with white tile floors. The room was completely white, aside from the blood splattered on the wall and floor, which was running to a drain in the center of the room. But above the drain was a chair, similar to what would be found at a barbershop, or dentists office. The white vinyl of the chair was thickly coated with blood.
"Take a seat" the officer commanded pointing to the chair, upon which the citizen obeyed. The chair was warm with blood when the citizen sat down, but it soon became cold. "You'll be known as 4532 until we can get your properly labeled. The officer turned his back on the citizen, typing so quickly on the computer console it seemed unhuman. "Where are you from?" the officer asked, still typing at the computer console. The citizen sat in silence. "4532, I asked you a question... where are you from?" asked the officer again, this time with an edge in him voice. The citizen remained quiet for only a secod more, taking a few extra seconds to say "I don't know." he spoke in a low gravelly voice. The officer stopped typing, "What did you say?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I can't recall where I'm from." the citizen said again.
"Tell the truth," the officer said menacingly, "We can make people talk, I know how to extract the information from you."
"But I don't know, I can't remember." the citizen said honestly.
The officer typed something quickly on the console, then turned around to face the man sitting in the chair. The tiles on the ceiling, above the chair, slowly lifted and rolled back, allowing some sort of mechanical arm lower down, just above the citizens head. The arm was thick and made of steel, the end nearest to the chair was comprised of several smaller mechanical devices. Most were covered in blood and menacingly sharp, "You don't want this cold steel to meet your flesh, do you?" the offcer said, putting one hand on the head rest of the chair, leaning in to the citizens face. "Tell the truth or I will be forced to discipline you." the officer spoke with perfect grammar, all his words were etched in stone and precise.
"I can't tell ya something I don't know." the citizen said again, showing no glint or glimmer of fear.
The officer laughed and strapped the citizens arms into the chair, then restraining his feet and his head. The citizen couldn't move, though he didn't try. The officer took hold of a handle on the arm, and pulled it lower, and around to the front of the chair, until the bloody drills and knifelike edges were in the citzens face. A drop of blood dripped from the end of a large thick drill bit, landing on the citizen's shirt. The citizen stared unblinkingly into the faceless mask, where the eyes should have been.
The officer laughed again and grabbed at a tool on the arm, he pulled it away and held it in his hand. The tool in his hand was attatched to the arm by a thick metal coil which seemed to stretch for miles. The held officer the knife in front of the citizen's face, it was a small surgical knife, sharp and thin, hungering for the citizens raw flesh and blood. "Last chance." he said with a hint of finality in his voice, waving the blade infront of the citizen's face, but the citizen remained unspeaking. The officer laughed one more time.
The officer held the knife in his left hand, and used his right to unzip the blue jumpsuit. He pulled the shirt open wide, revealng the citizens bare chest. He held the knife at arms length and slowly eased the blade into the citizens flesh. He pushed the blade into the cizitens abdomen, just below the ribcage. The offcer looked up from his working hand into the citizens face, expecting to see tears streaming down his face, a look of pain and fear in his eyes, but he saw neither. The citizens visage remained set in stone. The officer pulled the knife out and let the blood ooze from the thin, but deep, cut. The officer tugged on the knife, and let go, the knife was pulled back to its place on the arm, "It looks like I'm going to have to treat you to something a little more lip loosening." the officer said, reaching for a tool with two prongs.
He pulled it off and jammed it into the citizens ribs. Waves of electricity moved over his body, convolsing his muscles, rapid tightenng and lossening. It was excruciating. The citizen gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his jaw was locked and his hands gripped the armrests of the chair tightly. The officer pulled the prod away from the citizen, "Where have you come from?" he asked again, but the citizen just stared at him, silent. The officer proded at him one last time, then let the device take its place back on the arm. "Well, it's time for my favorite." the officer said, taking hold of the drill bit, looking it up and down closely.
Uknown Name, Unknown Number.
By Josh Anzalone
Station 12, a place where new arrivals are recorded. They step off the train and into the metropolis that is City 33, they are immediatly taken to stand in a line, their barcodes are scanned, and they are recorded into the City's memory bank. Everyone in the city is accounted for, they can go no where without the government police knowing where they are, the police track their every move.
There is a new train arriving in station 12, in city 33; it's a small load, only four men on the rail car, but it's one of the most important arrivals station 12 will ever receive. As the doors open a metro police officer steps up to the rail car to usher the new arrivals into the proper line. The police officer is dressed in a black jump suit, and what appears to be a gas mask, hiding all his physical features. Three of the four men start to step off, but one remains sitting, looking inquisitivly at the police officer. "You!" the police officer says, trying to get his attention, "Citizen, stand up and come with the rest of them, now." he stressed the last word, jabbing his finger at the ground, motioning him to come to the door.
The sitting man stood up and started walking toward the front of the rail car. He was dressed in a blue zip up jumpsuit, standard issued to new arrivals, after their cleansing and delousing, before they are set up on a train. As he moved toward the front of the train the light highlighted his features, he has a strong jawline, and features set in stone, his black hair complimented his chilly yellow eyes. He wasn't a very intimidating man, only standing at six feet, and though he looked thin and weak he was actually very strong.
He joined the officer at the front of the train, when the officer promptly turned around and lead the four men through a small, cramped, alleyway. There were no branches or breakoffs from this alleyway, only a small fence and gate at the very end, where more metro police would be standing. One at a time the four men stepped through a turnstyle composed of perpendicular bars. Once they reached the other side of the fence the police handcuffed them, and pushed them against the wall, they pulled down the back of their shirts, revealing a barcode just at the top of the back, above the shoulders.
All the men moved through the turnstyle, one, two, three, but their was a problem with number four. They handcuffed him, his hands behind his back, and pushed him against the wall, they spread his legs apart with their battons, and searched him running their hands over the length of his body, searching for any make-shift weapons. Once they were convinced he was defenseless they prepared to check his barcode. One officer held his head to the wall, with a firm hand on the back of his head, and another pulled down the back of his shirt, but there was no barcode where one should have been. The police looked from one to the other, "what is this?" one asked looking at the others, "All are to have been labeled at birth, how can this one have no label?" they talked amongst themselves, like the labeless man was nothing more than a can of soup.
A small door cattycorner the the turnstyle was flung open and another police officer stepped out, "You!" he spoke loud and strong, "Come with me citizen, we will have you labeled and send to your proper place." The citizen was given a shove toward the door, nearly falling over. He mindlessly followed the officer through the door, which was slammed shut behind him.
The officer led him through a long corridor, there were doors on either side of him, labeled simply with a number and a letter. 1A, then 1B, 1C, and the same was on the next floor, after they ascended a flight of stairs, 2A, then 2B, and 2C, it seemed likely all the doors would be labelled like this though the entire building. They stopped at 3F on the next floor up. The policer pulled a card from his pocket, which was attatched to his belt by a drawstring. it was then the citizen realized their was no doorknob where their should have been one, instead there was a smooth metal box, with a small seperation, where the card would be inserted.
The officer slid his card into the slot and there were several small clicks, after which the door popped open. They entered the dimmly lit room. There were four walls to this room, to the left of the entrance was a computer console, and large screens which covered the entire wall. The monitors filled the room with blue filtered light. Across from the entrace was a blank wall with another door, this one had a door handle. The room was painted white, with white tile floors. The room was completely white, aside from the blood splattered on the wall and floor, which was running to a drain in the center of the room. But above the drain was a chair, similar to what would be found at a barbershop, or dentists office. The white vinyl of the chair was thickly coated with blood.
"Take a seat" the officer commanded pointing to the chair, upon which the citizen obeyed. The chair was warm with blood when the citizen sat down, but it soon became cold. "You'll be known as 4532 until we can get your properly labeled. The officer turned his back on the citizen, typing so quickly on the computer console it seemed unhuman. "Where are you from?" the officer asked, still typing at the computer console. The citizen sat in silence. "4532, I asked you a question... where are you from?" asked the officer again, this time with an edge in him voice. The citizen remained quiet for only a secod more, taking a few extra seconds to say "I don't know." he spoke in a low gravelly voice. The officer stopped typing, "What did you say?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I can't recall where I'm from." the citizen said again.
"Tell the truth," the officer said menacingly, "We can make people talk, I know how to extract the information from you."
"But I don't know, I can't remember." the citizen said honestly.
The officer typed something quickly on the console, then turned around to face the man sitting in the chair. The tiles on the ceiling, above the chair, slowly lifted and rolled back, allowing some sort of mechanical arm lower down, just above the citizens head. The arm was thick and made of steel, the end nearest to the chair was comprised of several smaller mechanical devices. Most were covered in blood and menacingly sharp, "You don't want this cold steel to meet your flesh, do you?" the offcer said, putting one hand on the head rest of the chair, leaning in to the citizens face. "Tell the truth or I will be forced to discipline you." the officer spoke with perfect grammar, all his words were etched in stone and precise.
"I can't tell ya something I don't know." the citizen said again, showing no glint or glimmer of fear.
The officer laughed and strapped the citizens arms into the chair, then restraining his feet and his head. The citizen couldn't move, though he didn't try. The officer took hold of a handle on the arm, and pulled it lower, and around to the front of the chair, until the bloody drills and knifelike edges were in the citzens face. A drop of blood dripped from the end of a large thick drill bit, landing on the citizen's shirt. The citizen stared unblinkingly into the faceless mask, where the eyes should have been.
The officer laughed again and grabbed at a tool on the arm, he pulled it away and held it in his hand. The tool in his hand was attatched to the arm by a thick metal coil which seemed to stretch for miles. The held officer the knife in front of the citizen's face, it was a small surgical knife, sharp and thin, hungering for the citizens raw flesh and blood. "Last chance." he said with a hint of finality in his voice, waving the blade infront of the citizen's face, but the citizen remained unspeaking. The officer laughed one more time.
The officer held the knife in his left hand, and used his right to unzip the blue jumpsuit. He pulled the shirt open wide, revealng the citizens bare chest. He held the knife at arms length and slowly eased the blade into the citizens flesh. He pushed the blade into the cizitens abdomen, just below the ribcage. The offcer looked up from his working hand into the citizens face, expecting to see tears streaming down his face, a look of pain and fear in his eyes, but he saw neither. The citizens visage remained set in stone. The officer pulled the knife out and let the blood ooze from the thin, but deep, cut. The officer tugged on the knife, and let go, the knife was pulled back to its place on the arm, "It looks like I'm going to have to treat you to something a little more lip loosening." the officer said, reaching for a tool with two prongs.
He pulled it off and jammed it into the citizens ribs. Waves of electricity moved over his body, convolsing his muscles, rapid tightenng and lossening. It was excruciating. The citizen gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his jaw was locked and his hands gripped the armrests of the chair tightly. The officer pulled the prod away from the citizen, "Where have you come from?" he asked again, but the citizen just stared at him, silent. The officer proded at him one last time, then let the device take its place back on the arm. "Well, it's time for my favorite." the officer said, taking hold of the drill bit, looking it up and down closely.
