Survival of the Fittest

The Speile is here to remind us all that life is tough, and only the strongest will be successful in it. I suppose that's a pretty good excuse for cruelty. Not. The tradition is that every sixteen year old alive is taken in by the Auslese to be examined and tested. Nobody knows what the whole test is even about, not even the people who have taken it. Afterwards, they wipe the memory from your mind, and you are to start your new life. The only thing known about it, if you don't pass, you die. Only half of us make it through. This is what they call population management. A synonym I'd suggest would be murder. And from the looks of it, I have a target on my head.

     I've gathered from looking around at my own population that it has something to do with physical fitness. Anyone older than sixteen is muscular, some to the point where it looks unnatural. I suppose the same could be said for the younger generation as well, save for the exception of the few and far in between. So then the purpose of the Speile is truly to wipe out  the weak? Do I consider myself weak? I am in the physical sense, undeniably.  But does that define a weak person?

    A train pulls up just outside of our city gates, and two guards in black uniforms step out to unlock them, I decide that it doesn't. I don't care if I can bench 400, or win in hand to hand combat. I am not weak, and I will fight for my family, if not for myself. So I stand and wipe the tears from underneath my eyes. I straighten my hair, dress, and posture, and strut aboard the train in a new state of mind, my mind lingering on the little tube of serum my mother gave to me and grasping my family with my heart.

The End

12 comments about this story Feed