It was cold. It was clean. It was hard. It was death. Marcus knew none of this. Tubes snaked into his veins, slowly dripping cold fluid. Blue orderlies and white doctors prepared, many of them sick for the ninth time at what they had to do.
It was cold. It was clean. It was blood. It was death. Marcus knew none of this. The scalpels descended, cutting their patterns in welling blood over the body. The surgeons, regretting their art, kept to their tasks.
It was cold. It was clean. It was birth. It was death. Orderlies pulled the skin back, revealing the muscles, bones, and tendons. Doctors began separating the muscles from the bones, and these from the organs; it would not do to contaminate the processes.
It was cold. It was clean. It was pain. It was death. Marcus knew this. The muscles, laid out for the anatomist's diagrams, spasmed in pain. The eyes, stripped of lids, rolled back to escape the lights. The mouth, devoid of lips, wailed in fear and pain. A pattern of white and blue retreated from their work; a machine noted the awakening and increased the supply of cold fluids. The body subsided and the process was resumed.
Fuzzy, that was his first impression. like a ball of static. Marcus experimentally rolled his eyes under their lids. He opened his eyes and looked about. A morgue. Children his age stretched out on tables from wall to wall, with pathways between them. Someone retched behind him, vomit splattering the floor. he whirled around to see a boy heave again. A girl a little further down the line quivered uncontrollably. The sight of the vomit reminded him that he didn't feel good either. "Are you going to puke?" He looked down at the table in front of him. A girl, no more than eleven, lay there, only here eyes moving.
"If you puke, don't do it on me, I can't move."
"Your mouth works."848Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW2go7Qtp5p
" So does yours, unfortunately. where are ya?"
"Where am I?"
"Yeah, down or out?"
"Um, no clue"
"You dumber than a fer." She closed her eyes. Her body began to twitch and he knew that she wasn't paralyzed. All around him, kids stirred and started waking up. There were red, orange, or yellow jumpsuits at the foot of each bed. Next to those were mottled combat fatigues with the corresponding color of the jumpsuit mixed in with black and grey. In ten minutes everyone had donned their jumpsuits and were congregating in their colors, carrying their fatigues. Marcus's color was red and he joined the reds.
Everyone looked similar. Short hair on the sides and top for the girls, billiards-ball bald for the boys. His eyes were green but looked brown if the sunlight wasn't shining into them. All had smooth perfect skin. Their joints were a cross between normal flesh and hydraulics. Their fingers sported mechanical digits and the knuckles were shielded to protect during a punch while insuring that the recipient felt brass knuckles. All were young, but seemed to be large for their age. One of the most noticeable differences besides the joints was that all of the cartilage of the ears were gone. Smooth skin with a small hole where the ear was. None could remember anything past waking up. They were all speculating on the situation when a door they had not noticed opened.
In walked a man, calling him that is generous. Built like a tank, but without looking chunky or overweight. Hands so large that they could palm watermelons. He walked to the middle and looked around at the three groups. It was plain that the tallest kid would come to his waist. The boy next to him, Lucius, whispered, "I want my money back, this aint gonna be fun."
The man looked disappointed, as if he had hoped they wouldn't wake up. "I'll make it real simple, children. you are going to be run so hard, its going to make your diaries tired. If i let you have one. I am Sargent Ramirez, but to you packers, it's Sir. Any sergeant, corporal, or private is Sir. Any do-nothing-look-pretty officer that you meet shall be treated like God. If a miracle decides to have an act of God and you somehow meet a councilman, just act like they gave birth to God."
He shook his head,"I want to die in peace, and they make me into a parent."
He hooked his thumb to the door signalling them to get out. Kids started walking to the door and he bellowed at them, "Run brats! You never walk to anything! Last color out the door gets his pack a lap round the city!"
As Marcus got mixed up in the rush, he looked back and saw five kids who had never moved from their tables. They wouldn't ever.
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