Red-response

A machine has been created that detects potential future murderers.

I waited in the never ending line to step up to the machine. Finally, it was my turn. I'm sweating profusely and my hands are shaking but I try to keep my cool. After all, I don't want to look like a killer. I'm not a killer. At least I don't think I am. I mean, if someone was trying to harm my family or friends and it came down to life or death, I would kill to not be killed. Does that make me a killer though?

Please be green. Please, please be green. I don't know what I would do if I got red. The woman in uniform is waiting for me to step up to it but I'm just standing here like an idiot. 

I hesitate to step up to the PFMDM 6-3 (Potential Future Murderer Detection Machine) but I just force myself to do it. I mean, I'm a nice person! There is no way I could be a killer. But if I was.....No! I can't think like that! I must remain calm and just step up to the damn machine. There is no way it will light up red. I will be free to walk out of here like the other 97% of people who have stepped on the machine. 

97% of people in the United States are not killers. This means there is 3% who are. And what happens to that 3%?

"Are you gonna get on or what?" Ms. Uniform asks me. Yeah, get an attitude, b***h. I'm not the one who has to stand here all day pressing a stupid button. I finally muster enough courage to step onto the machine. I'm standing here for what feels like forever. What is taking so long? Why is it not responding? Where is the green light?

The woman, not even paying attention, just sits there waiting also. Is there a malfunction? Why is it not giving me my results? She finally looks back this way and notices the concern on my face.

"Sometimes it take a while. These machines are run for hours and start to lag after about the fourth or fifth hour. Plus, its's new so they still workin' out the kinks. Just wait for it to turn green and you can go." After about five minutes with no activity from the machine she also is confused. People in line behind me are annoyed at the long wait. Its like waiting to vote on election day: You only do it every so many years and when you do you stand in line for hours only to be in the booth less than a minute. Except in my case the booth just wont give me a damn answer. 

Just when Uniform woman is about to call her supervisor it beeps.....red? How....how could this be? Red? No. No! It can't....This is terrible. Now what will happen to me?

"Oh dear," she said in a voice so soft you almost couldn't hear it. Not that I could hear anything anyways with my thoughts running rampant. I just got red. The last thing I want to hear is fake sympathy telling me how sorry someone is when they are really just relieved that the machine caught another one. It doesn't matter if I'm actually guilty of anything, the machine spotted me as a potential future killer and that is all that matters.

I guess now I can find out what happens to that 3%. Two police personnel come to escort me to who knows where. They handcuff me telling me its "procedure" and one puts his hand to my head, helping me in the back of the squad car. We drive for about an hour. At least I can enjoy the scenery during the drive. We pass by mostly fields and meadows. I have absolutely no idea where I am. 

We pull up to a building in the middle of nowhere. It looks so technologically advanced, it is ironic seeing it in the middle of such a beautiful landscape. They help me out of the car and walk me to the building. The walkway to the door is white stone surrounded by an intensely green, clean-cut grass. The doors are huge and glass with about seven steps leading to it. The bottom of the steps is a number pad where the police enter a code and the doors magically open. They walk me inside where there are people in white trench coats everywhere. Some are immersed in labs and research, others rushing around. None of them seem to notice I'm there, wherever the hell I am. 

A man wearing a suit walks up to me and says in a deep voice, "I've been expecting you, Tabitha. Do you know where you are?"

"Not a clue..." I answer.

"Do you know what happens when someone gets a red response?"

"Not a clue..." I answer, once again.

"You see, Tabitha, murdering a murderer is like eating molded cheese when you're starving: Desperation makes it seem logical when it really makes no sense. Do you follow?"

"Um, not really." What the hell was this man talking about?

"Let me explain; we believe that everyone deserves a chance at life- even murderers."

"But I'm not-"

"You will be." He interrupted, knowing exactly what I was going to say. I'm sure they hear this from every red-response victim. Imagine that, me the victim. I'm probably the only one imagining it like that, though.

"We obviously can't leave a killer living in society with so many pure souls. Its unethical, immoral and too risky. However, we can't just kill them. That would contradict what we aim to achieve. That leaves us with one option. There is an island about twenty miles west of Hawaii. This island holds every red-response we've encountered. We give you a chance at life but that's it. You will be expected to fend for yourself. Any and every thing you do will be solely relied upon you. Do you follow?"

I nod, silent, unsure what to expect next.

"And Tabitha, every single person who has been put on that island has ended up a killer."

Author's Note

Writing prompt: A machine has been created that detects potential future murderers. Those who were tested positive as a potential murderer are sent to a deserted island to fend for themselves. You are one of those people.