Mercy

A Story by Druvian

The soft sound of someone clearing their throat caught my attention.

"I’m here for my exam?”

I jerked my head up from the papers in my hand, turning to see who had spoken.

The source was that of a young-looking boy, with short, mussed hair and eager-looking eyes. Nothing new - they were all happy to be out of here.

“Ello? You alright?”

I hadn’t realized he had been talking to me.

“Just fine.”

Standing from my chair, I gestured to a closed door, pristinely painted white, nearly blending in to the surrounding walls. The entire room was the color of sun-bleached bones, only broken by what little color the pale patients held.

The interior of the room, as the boy soon saw after I led him through the doorway, looked much the same. I felt my throat constrict slightly, the lack of windows and air vents paired with the atmosphere caused such thin air.

Again, I looked at the boy, who was examining the intricate machinery in the room, wires and switches for purposes he didn’t comprehend fascinating him.

“So, you’re finally getting out of this place, eh?”

Once more I wondered what this man - no, man wasn’t the right word, for he was no more than a boy - was doing in a containment center such as this. Criminals ended up here, not teenage boys.

”Yeah,” he started, almond-shaped eyes meeting mine as he spoke. “I can’t wait to see my family again. It’s been almost a year now.”

My eyes were quickly averted from his, shame flushing my face, and I promptly turned to keep those unsuspecting eyes from noticing. I was lost in thought as I moved to the machine, checking wires nimbly. He had obviously been deemed a traitor, and no matter how young, it was for the best.

Eventually, I finished, and told him to lay down in the machine. He complied without a second thought.

“This is the end of the checkout procedure. I’m just going to run a few tests, to make sure you are healthy enough to go back home.”

All who came in believed they were victims of an illness. In honesty, they were, but the symptoms were far exaggerated by my fellows. Coincidentally, none infected survived.

“Okay.”

The slightest hesitation.

“How long is this gonna take? I have some serious catching up to do.”

I nearly choked over my next words.

"It will only take a minute. But - if you don't mind my asking -, how old are you?"

"I'm 16 now. It was my birthday last month. I was 15 when I was placed in this dump."

“A bit young to be infected, isn’t it?” I mused, more to myself than the boy, as I began to push the needle-thin wires through the boy’s skin, bringing tiny droplets of blood to my vision.

It didn’t occur to me that the boy might start another conversation, and so when he spoke again, I was startled, the needle almost missing his vein as a result.

"So, what's it like out there now?"

"What do you mean?" I replied, not looking up from my work.

“I mean…” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, groping for words. “Is it nice? Different? More civilized?”

I chuckled dryly to myself, under my breath. Oh, yes, it was more civilized. Exactly why this procedure, far more merciful than it’s priors, came to be.

“Yes,” I finally told him, “it’s plenty nice.”

A faint smile was seen from the corner of my eye. He was so excited, so happy, to be free and see his family again.

This was the right time.

Taking a step back, I examined the boy. “Okay, last check now. Sit still.”

My hand shook slightly as I reached for a small switch. The slightest moment’s hesitation stayed my hand.

I flipped the switch.

I closed his still-open eyes, the imprint of happiness still on his dead face.

© 2011 Druvian

Author's Note

Just to clear things up, this is set in an alternate society, where murderers and suspected terrorists are infected with an honestly harmless disease, and are kept in a seperate building for 'treatment', when in honesty it is merely a containment center until it can be determined whether or not they are guilty (not American-based, and as such courts and trials are eliminated for the 'worse' crimes.). The 'patients' are convicted, not acquitted--but they don't know it. This is a very merciful society and they decided that although it was necessary to execute criminals, they could at least be spared the horror of knowing that they were about to be executed.