Thin Air

A book is found in the ruins of London, one-hundred years after the red sky descended and the world fell into chaos. On the back is written "Read and learn of what happened to those who saved you".

 

My name is Lexine, the surname doesn’t matter. I am currently awaiting my sentence here in the Hall of Ruling. My crime or crimes rather are far too many to count. I have let down too many; those who depended on me and those who died because of my actions.

I was just like you once, I had a family and a home. I went to school and had friends. I had homework and exams, these are all things I had to forsake so that I could let people like you live . . . or so I thought. You see, one day when I received a summons, I had no idea what the piece of paper truly meant. I understood fully the content printed onto it; the visible message. But by agreeing to the invisible meaning, my life was changed forever.

Before I carry on telling you the whole story, I must tell you more about myself first. As I said, I had once a relatively normal life as a fourteen-year-old girl growing up in England. I had to go to school; I had to visit Grandads and Grandmothers and Grand-Uncles and Grand-Aunts, I had to go shopping with my parents and I had to keep my room tidy. I see you’re nodding your head there, that’s good; we’re coming to an understanding. Now I’ll tell you the beginning of my life, well, my story as is relevant to your interests.

It all began when I came home from school one day, it was possibly a Friday but I’m not too sure. As I walked in my mum announced that I had been recognised as one of the brightest students in the country and that I was to go to Lady Patchwork’s Boarding School. Dad came in a little later and soon enough joined in the celebrations. I however decided to take the more rational approach (since they wouldn’t allow me to look at the blasted letter) and went on the internet to research this school. A fairly convincing website came up and the more I looked, the more encouraged I felt to go there. Over the weekend I said my good-byes to my friends and family and come early Monday morning I was being taken on a brand-new bullet-train to the School. Everything seemed perfect, until we got there that is. We entered what appeared to be a regular tunnel under a hill, the kind that goes completely black save the lights in the train. It did go black, and then there was a white, artificial light, we were in a train station! I saw a woman in a black suit walk along the underground station platform to the front of the train and all at once the carriage doors were unlocked. She called out names in groups of four and people in black suits took the groups away through a door at the back of the concrete platform. I was called out with three others and we were taken through an underground complex. It was huge and it looked like something from a sci-fi film . . . but the technology there will be explained as you read on. We were taken to a comfortable area which we were free to call our ‘group house’ and were given the day to settle in. The next day, we were called out of our houses and sent to see the head of the operation; a woman known as ‘Mrs. Seyfert’. I still remember going into that office, although underground it looked like a billionaire’s dream straight form a catalogue, but the billionaire’s wouldn’t dream of a fake sky, a sky made of pixels on glass would they? Nonetheless I was sat upon a black acrylic chair in front of her and her desk. This was when I noticed that something was definitely wrong. Her eyes, although nearly black, had what appeared to be glimmering purple shards in them! Then there was her skin, it was almost dead-looking, like a corpse yet it seemed very much alive. Her face however showed that she was in fact middle-aged and beyond her years of youth. She sat me down and told me I must be a researcher, a researcher on ‘Mr. Hall’s team’. I wasn’t told what I would be researching, only that I would be picked up the next to begin training. And so it was, the next morning at 10 O’clock I was taken away by a man similar in appearance to Mrs. Seyfert to a laboratory; along with a group of others. There we all spent months researching a formula to make super humans, yet nor were we told as to why we were doing so. For the sake of research, we had specimens delivered, human specimens. The lucky ones were sedated in giant tubes whilst the unlucky ones were in the cells. They were those who were not wanted by society: the homeless, the criminals, the orphans. Night and Day their screams could be heard, but there came a time when there were no more specimens, and the research had to continue. I volunteered, and there were also compulsory selections with Project Patchwork. Fate brought the three of us together that night. And now I’ll start the story properly.

The End

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