Logan
In the early days, before the vaccine, they would’ve referred to this civilization as a group of sociopaths. All with the same expression, no true emotion, fake smiles, suppressed thoughts. Jacobs dad died yesterday in a car crash, none of them shed a single tear.
All they say is, “It saved him from suffering later on in life.”
No, your dad just got killed out of nowhere. He had a whole life to live and all they say is it saved him. Of course I’m the only one who thinks this. I stay silent most of the time, I know that if I open my mouth that I’ll say something judgemental towards the society that everyone seems to accept. The vaccine made them this way. Whenever I think about the needle that everyone has felt, I feel it too. Accept unlike them, I feel it all over. They’ve tried everything to make me like everyone else. I go to the maternity ward to visit my aunt and see all the babies fast asleep with a bandage above there right eye where the needle was inserted. I wasn’t a threat to society as long as I kept my mouth closed. That’s what the contract said. I signed the contract at age two, well my parents did. Then at age nine I signed it myself. My parents put up with a lot, until I was nine they were at risk if I said anything. Although they love me, I knew they had a huge weight lifted off their shoulders when I set the pen back down next to the contract on my ninth birthday. I used to think awareness was my super power. While everyone else went about there lives acting as if death was our savior, I knew better. Of course I couldn’t say any of this. At age 19 I still believe I’m gifted. I do get weird looks a lot, apparently being quiet is weird. I only talk when I greet someone or to say please and thank you. I remember the first time I realized it was better to keep quiet. It was at a funeral for my dads boss. I was about seven years of age and my parents were busy conversing with co-workers. I saw the wife of the man who passed away. She was bubbly and as animated as ever. Despite this, I walked up to the woman.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said with my head tilted up at her.
“What loss?” She asked with a kind smile.
For a second I felt my cheeks heat up and I almost turned around feeling embarrassed for thinking that this woman was someone else.
“This was not a loss darling, it was a gain,” the lady said after a second. “Heavan has gained a beautiful new angel.”
It took all I had in me to not question if she had received too much sanguine, but instead I just nodded. I knew the group of ladies were talking about me as if I had just asked if they had seen my pet alien. My father heard about the incident the next day at work. I was expecting him to be mad but instead he said it was very kind of me to say that to the woman but next time stick with them. To this day, I await the moment that someone explodes. Someone like me, someone who resists the vaccine, someone who questions why our society can’t think rationally and makes up excuses for something that is supposed to make you feel upset. After I graduated high school, I became increasingly more interested in people watching. I always looked for people who were abnormally silent. I often walked by this house with a girl in it. I never saw the girl outside and when she appeared in the window she always seemed to be zoned out. I asked my aunt about her, my aunt was a nurse who knew about everyone.
“She’s like you, her name is Cassie,” was all she told me.
I always wanted to walk up and knock on that door and ask to speak with her. I knew, however, that I would be looked down upon. I had never seen her outside so for all I knew she was homeschooled, so if I were to ask about her people would know I knew something I shouldn’t.
