Strange thoughts. Feelings.
737947. That is all she knows. Wake. Dress. Do your duty. Today, procreation duty. Eat the pills. Sleep. Repeat. Do good service.
This isn’t right. She remembers something more.
Do your duty. Serve your masters. For the benefit of all.
For the benefit of who? Who are their masters? Is anyone else thinking like her?
To question is wrong. To talk is to conspire. Silence must be maintained.ย She wants to talk. To someone. Anyone. She dares lift her head and look at the boy next to her.
She feels contact on her shoulder. Cold and metallic. Artificial speech.
‘Mortal 737947. Violation. Proceed to sentencing.’

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this weekโs prompt, visit HERE.
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