Day 1: Mandated

Mandated: To give (someone) authority to act in a certain way.

I reread the words over a hundred times, unable to fathom their meaning. 

'No one should ever be mandated to do anything,' I swore. 

Yet we were ordered to keep quiet, ordered to follow, ordered to obey. 

I was never good at obeying.

But here I was, standing in line behind a fidgety crowd, awaiting my turn to be pricked.

It's funny how your conscience works in these moments. How it fights itself, convincing you to stay or to run. 

'You'll be fine. It's just a little prick.' One voice says. 'Besides, everybody's doing it.'

Then another voice chimes in. 'But what are you sacrificing? Is it worth it?' It asks. 'And what will come next?'

They argue...

...and I listen.

Only until I can't bear it any longer, and I suppress them both, leaving me strangled in silence.

'Number three, three, three,' a calm, steady voice comes over the intercom. A well-rehearsed voice. 'Report to desk seven, please.'

I blink several times then draw my eyes down upon my glowing phone. 333, I read. When did they replace one's name with only numbers? I think, then shrug. 'I guess it's my turn.' 

Three-hundred and thirty-two people got the prick before I had. What could go wrong?

The walk up to the counter is a blur. And after two more blinks, I find myself in front of a heafy woman. Her eyes gray and sunken. Lips flat. Skin a strange, colorless pink. She seemed like she belongs there. Like the chair beneath her bottom had fused to her hips. The rolls of her stomach nestled on the arm rests. Her fingers glued to her keyboard. But, oddly enough, what drew my eyes was something else entirely; the mark on her right arm; a black, circular bit of flesh between her shoulder and her bicep. A bruise. No. A blood clot. 

She asks, 'three, three, three?'

I look at her and nod, lifting my phone. 

She draws her eyes on the numbers 333. 'Scan there,' she replies dryly.

I hold up my phone to the scanner on the counter. A thin, red light reads the barcode on the screen. 

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Beep!

'You may proceed through that door,' she says, without gesturing in which direction to go.

I look and find frosted glass doors to my right. Several silhouettes move grotesquely behind it, shifting and shaping. And I can't tell if they're human or some monstrosity. 

I breathe inward and whisper, 'everything will be ok… it's just a prick.' Then think. But will it? Will you be ok?

I push through the door and it glides open. Bright, blinding light causes me to squint. Once my eyes focus, which takes several struggling blinks, I find myself in another room with another counter.

The lady behind this counter wears scrubs and has the same blankless expression the lady at the last counter had. Her lips flat. Eyes dull and sunken like she'd stood there staring for ages. 

'Three, three, three?' she asks. 

I nod. 

'You may be seated.'

There was only one open seat; the other taken by my counterpart; a beautiful, young woman, with golden-brown hair, bright blue eyes, and skin as golden as sun-soaked sand. 

'May I?'

She nods, focused on the phone on her lap, twirling a strand of hair. I figure that was her way of calming her nerves. I sit and twiddle my thumbs; how I calm my own nerves. 

I guess, 'three, three, two?' 

She gazes up at me with her river blue eyes flecked with gold. 'Excuse me?' She asks timidly.

I tilt my chin downard and blush, cowering away from such beauty. 'Your number.' I confirmed it, looking upon a 332 glowing orange on her phone screen. 

She looks down at her phone, smirks, then looks back at me. 'Your first time?' I pinch my eyebrows together. She notices and giggles. 'I mean your first prick?'

'Is it that obvious?' I chuckle. 'Have I gone green?'

She places a hand to her lips and giggles sweetly. 'Green and pale… I was concerned you might be sick—'  she caught her tongue. Aware that nobody wants to be accused. Then bit her lip. 'Sorry...'

'No need to apologize,' I say, sitting upright, hoping a more neutral color would return to my face.  'Besides, I would've made the same mistake had it been you who were green.'

We look at one another, locking eyes. And for that moment, we hold our gaze; held by a silence that sends my heart skipping. 

We laugh obnoxiously. 

'Three, three, two,' the nurse calls.

Our lips sink and our faces twist, reminded that this was no time to be in a ruse.

The girl stands, tucking her phone into her back pocket. She curls her lips at me, 'Good luck.' 

'You too—'

'Three, three, two!'

We both glance over at the nurse. She stares coldly with her dull, sunken eyes. 

'I'm coming,' the girl responds. And with a farewell smile and nod, skips off towards the back. 

I watch her until she disappears with the nurse behind a second pair of frost-windowed doors. But this time there was no light. No silhouettes. Only blackness.

I twiddle my thumbs, and count the taps of my foot. One. Two. Three. I get to five minutes before the door swings open, and 332 walks out with a new, green bandage on her right arm. Her bright river eyes, and sun-sand skin, now dull gray and pale. 

She walks in my direction, staring blankly. Lips flat. Moving almost… stiff and mechanical.

'How'd it go,' I ask, eyeing her peculiar demeanor. 

She says nothing and walks past me through the exit. I find it all a bit...peculiar.

'Three, three, three,' I see the nurse in the doorway. 

When did she get there?

My neck hairs stand. I feel my hands go clammy. I don't want to go... Not anymore, I think. But it's too late. My body takes control and I walk forward, passing through the threshold between rooms, beyond the second pair of frost-windowed doors.

On the other side, was another bright white room with a propped up examination table.

The nurse says, 'Take a seat.'

I look at her, swallow, and nod. 'Do I need to strip down—'

'Just have a seat and pull up your sleeve.' She 

says dryly, 'this will only take a second.'

As hard as my legs want to run, I do as she says.

The light flicks off.

A second light flicks on, illuminating the room a crimson red.

Before I can ask. Before I can scream. Before I can run. The nurse tilts her head. Her eyelids stretch while two orbs protrude from her head, expanding larger and larger. Her nose snaps, and elongates into a long, skinny point, down beyond her waist.

She tilts her proboscis upward, leans back, then shoots forward, javelin towards my arm. 

In response, I shift towards my right. The point slices my arm flesh. Blood sprays. I groan. In the same motion, I grab the creature's skinny appendage. And with my phone clutched in my left hand, drive it into its right orb. Puss sprays. The creature wails. And then, it collapses, dead at my feet.