jess inc o g n i t o
Chatty Phantom
You're in the stomach of the ship, with everyone else. You're scared, or trying to appear strong and unphased by it all, but mostly, everyone else is the same as you. Whether they show it or not. Huddled against your knees in a sea full of unfamiliar faces. None of you have anything more than the clothes on your backs, but they'll take those from you too, that's the one thing they told you. No, they didn't dare try to explain why you'll never see your mother again, your father, your home.
You look out the window to see it drifting farther away, a trail of stardust smogging the view, knowing it's the last time you'll ever see even the simple things like clouds. Sure you're sitting on something familiar, grass, but it was synthetic, like everything else on the Graphyca 6. Synthetic and perfect and fake. That's how everything would be for here on in.
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The Graphyca 6 is the largest spacecraft ever to be created. It's so massive it can hold up to 10,000 people, comfortably. In a squeeze 15,000 would fit, but only 7,500 sit in it now. 6,000 are unsuspecting teenagers, ages 10-18. The other 1,500 are all 19, they run the ship. They've been trained for the job from age 6.
It was the last efforts to save mankind.
No one knows what brought on this downfall, or how it works. It's a disease, that cannot be cured and cannot be seen, even with a microscope. In fact, the only way to tell, is in the second stage, when your eyes turn black. The whites become blotched until the spots make their way and cover the pupil, rendering the victim blind. Finally, they die, but other than the eyes, appear entirely healthy. Wierder than that, no one under 20 can get it.
- - - - - - - - - -
You look away from where your Earth was, one of the older kids stands on a big stage near the front. "Listen up," he says, "You all are going to turn in your clothes up here and grab one of these, specific to color when you tell them your name," he gestured to the 26 long tables, each with a different letter taped on the front. You wait quietly in the line according to your last name for what seems like hours, no one makes a sound. You look around, seeing many different skins, as everyone's expected to change here, underwear and all. People from all over the world are here, it was part of the plan.
Finally you're at the front, you manage to choke out your name and wait for her to find you on the list. "Red," she says handing you a chain. You look at it in your palm. They're dog tags, and they read your name. Am I going to die here? Is this a prison? What could I have done? you think to yourself. "Red," she repeats, pushing you forward. You pick out your size fromt he red pile. They also give you a pair of jeans and gymshoes. You waste no time and strip off your familiar clothes, slipping on the red shirt and pants.
They also tell you to pick one item from hundreds of bins. You go past a few rows and grab something quickly out of the old green bin infront of you.
