Photophobia

A Story by Chaud

the first little piece of a story I decided to start writing (amateur as f**k)

Photophobia

“Wakey wakey. Time to get up.” spouted a disembodied voice with which I was terrifyingly familiar. The kick to the side came shortly after, quicker and harder than usual. I let out a grunt at the expected contact of the steel-toe boot with the left side of my ribcage. I brought my right hand up to my face, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pulling the blanket away from my head. The information given to me by my senses was the same as it was every time I woke. I saw first the disgruntled face of my caretaker, followed by the dismal furnishings of the room around me. A desk covered with carefully arranged papers, the foot of my low-sitting bed-- if you could call it one-- made of slowly rotting wood. Early morning light streamed harshly from the solitary window positioned opposite the only door.

The second kick came swiftly, and with considerably more malice than the first, landing exactly where the first had. This time my grunt was louder and I rolled over onto my stomach.

“Get the f**k up, kid! I have much better things to do than try to drag your lazy, worthless a*s out of your cot!” What was previously a disgruntled face had now evolved into an expression of disgust. “You won’t be having breakfast this morning. Next time, try to get the lead out of your useless carcass when you are woken.”

My caretaker threw a small sleeve of new papers onto my desk. “This is to be taken care of before noon today. Make sure that it is done.” And with that last assignment, my caretaker exited my room, slamming the heavy steel door behind him.

I sat up, my blanket falling to my horizontal legs. Reaching to with my right hand to my left side, I lightly touched my newest injury. Yeah, that’s gonna bruise like crazy, I concluded after my brief appraisal of the flaring source of pain. Son of a b***h couldn’t just wait an extra second for me to get up. What an a*s.

I rose the rest of the way from my low place of rest with a light groan. After having risen fully to my feet, I reached for my shirt pocket and retrieved the unmarked pack of cigarettes. I let out a brief sigh when I saw that I had crushed the previously pristine package when I had rolled over. I opened the half-empty pack and searched for the cigarette that had sustained the least damage. I pulled the cigarette from its mangled container and walked slowly over to the lighting apparatus built into the wall near the door. With the cigarette in my mouth, I leaned forward, sticking the tip of the paper into the lighter. A moment later, the paper was lit and burning slowly toward the filter. I took the few necessary steps to the wall near my desk, leaned against it and took a long, slow drag. I looked over to the window, squinting at the light coming in from outside. I walked over to the damned thing and slid closed the flat black shutter. That jackass had opened it when he came in. This particular day wasn’t going to be much fun.

I sat gingerly at the unsteady wooden chair in front of my desk and looked down at the newest sleeve of paper slapped haphazardly onto an otherwise perfectly organized surface. I flicked some hanging ash into the disposal bin by my desk and took a look at the first page of the document.

Project: P-14 A238

Priority level: 9

Class: Gamma

I continued to read the details of the assignment. This was the twenty-first priority nine assignment I had been given in a row. They’re constantly bitching about finishing my other work, yet they won’t stop hitting me with nines. How the hell am I supposed to find time to do any of the others? I thought to myself. Whatever. Like there’s anything I can do about it, right?

After finishing my reading of the assignment, I retrieved a pencil from its proper place on my desk, on the right-side corner closest to me. I opened the single drawer in my desk and carefully separated a sheet of the blueprinting paper from its brethren. After another slow drag on my cigarette, I directed my thoughts toward a solution to the problem I had been given.

After about four hours, three mangled cigarettes and two discarded sheets of blueprinting paper, I gave my product one final look before deeming it worthy of submission. I rose slowly from my desk and walked to the door. I pressed and held the blue button for several seconds before the small slit in my door opened and an empty beige-colored plastic tray was pushed through. I placed my most recent piece of work onto the tray along with the front page of the assignment, and the tray was retracted back through the slit, which was then closed. I glanced down at the Collar fastened about my left wrist. This little device gives me the time and date, and provides a full and operable calendar. It is also responsible for my subduction should I decide to become violent or make an escape from this place.

The Collar, at the press of a small button, gave me the time.

“Thirty-two minutes past the hour of eleven A.M.” said the cool, automated female voice. 11:32, huh? I have some extra time to spare. Perhaps I’ll go through my desk real quick, make sure everything’s it its proper place.

However, before I had the chance to check on the organization of a desk I knew was already in perfect order, I heard a short. high-pitched chime coming from the speaker above my bed. The chime was followed by a voice, sounding unhappy and impatient.

“Fourteen, have you finished your assignment yet?” spat the voice from the speaker.

“It’s only just turned half-past eleven, and I was given until noon, right?” Of course I had already finished the assignment, but I didn’t much care for how far up my a*s they were crawling over the damned thing.

“Answer the question, Fourteen, or I will deploy the subduction agent from your Collar.”

I cringed at the mention of the special anesthetic. It was capable of rendering nerves useless and muscles flaccid for a short time, effectively paralyzing the subject.

I raised my hands defensively, palms open. “Whoa, calm down. Yes, I finished the assignment. Just turned it in a minute ago.”

“Good. You may go to lunch at noon.” said the voice. There was another high-pitched chime, signaling the end of our conversation. I walked away from my door, toward my bed. With a grunt, I slowly lowered myself to the thin mattress where I would lay with my legs crossed over one another and my hands behind my head, fully intending to relax until noon.

A short while later, I heard my Collar beep three times in rapid succession, and the cool female voice said “It is now twelve P.M.” I rose cautiously from my bed, trying not to agitate the now blue-green splotch of skin on my side. As I walked over to my door, I heard a sharp click, meaning that the door was unlocked. I pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the hallway. I walked down the long hall lined on both sides by heavy doors identical to my own and rounded the corner at the end. As I did so, the mess hall came into view. The others were already seated at the tables, eating their lunch. I walked to the far side of the cafeteria and grabbed a green plastic tray. As I walked to the dispenser, I looked at the sign displaying the delicacy of the day: Baked apples and rice. I let out a sigh. I hate apples. I arrived at the dispenser and placed my tray beneath it, where it dropped the unappetizing meal.

I sat down at a table a little less occupied than the others and started to consume my lunch in an unenthusiastic manner. After a minute or two, I heard someone sit down on my left. “Hey, Fourteen.” said the familiar voice, followed by a friendly elbow-jab to my side. I winced as his elbow touched my bruise.

“Whoa, touchy.” he said. I looked to my left, where my friend was sitting. He had jet white hair, green eyes with heavily dilated pupils, and nearly porcelain-colored skin, traits shared by everyone else in the cafeteria. His button up shirt boasting nothing except the small P-17 printed on the left breast.

“Hey Seventeen. Don’t worry about it, the caretaker was just a little extra affectionate this morning.” I said, rubbing my left side.

“Ah, I know how that goes.” said Seventeen in a knowing tone. “What was the issue?”

I raised my shoulders “I guess I was just a little slow getting out of bed.” Seventeen laughed and took a bite of his baked apple. “Did you get another assignment this morning?” I asked as he chewed.

Seventeen swallowed his mouthful of apple. “Yeah, but nothing special. Just some priority four to deal with. What about you?”

“I got another Gamma. A nine, too.” I answered.

Seventeen’s eyes widened a bit. “Holy s**t, Fourteen. What is this, like the fiftieth f*****g nine they’ve given you in a row?”

“Just the twenty-first. There’s no need to exaggerate.” I said with a cough.

“Still, man. That’s a lot of nines. You must be really popular with someone high-up. Hey, you gonna eat that?” Seventeen was pointing with his fork toward the apple on my tray.

I shook my head, hands in the air, palms open.“No, go for it.”

“Sweet. Thanks, man.” and with that, my apple was on Seventeen’s tray and starting to vanish rapidly into his stomach. As he was eating, I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled the beat-up pack from it. I put one rather abused-looking cigarette in my mouth and leaned down to the lighter built into the table.

“That’s bad for you, man.” said Seventeen with a smile on his face.

“Hell, something has to kill me right?”

Chapter 1: Let there be Light

There was a crashing noise. Loud, sudden, and disruptive. Then I heard the yelling. Seventeen and I turned quickly to see what was going on. At one of the other tables, there was a shouting match going on between two of my now standing peers. On the linoleum beneath them was an upside-down tray with apple and rice splayed out around it.

“That was uncalled for! All I said was that you should place the catalyst on the opposite side, with alternating relays! It’s not like I called you a goddamn moron!” shouted one of the arguing pair

“The hell you weren’t! There isn’t room for relays between the catalyst and the reactor, unless you want this whole damn thing to be six times larger than it should! We’re trying to make something small enough to actually use, you f*****g clod!” The other contestant answered. Both faces were tightened into a menacing scowl.

Seventeen and I looked on with superficial interest. By now, their argument had become the center of attention. I glanced at one of the cameras in the corner of the cafeteria. The caretakers were almost certainly watching what was going on, and I wondered if one of them was going to come in and intervene.

“They must have been paired for a project, and by the looks of things, they don’t care for each other’s company too much.” said Seventeen, chewing his baked apple while he watched the whole thing unfold. One of the quarrelling pugilists now had the other by the front of his shirt, his arm cocked back and prepared to drive his fist through his work partner. Before he could there was a loud, high-pitched chime. A loud, authoritative voice came over the speaker.

“ Thirty-six. Twenty-nine. You freaks stop your bickering, it’s annoying.” Both of the arguing “freaks,” turned simultaneously toward the speaker, faces still twisted with anger.

“Oh no, please don’t.” I said to myself right before they both opened their mouths.

“F**k you!” they shouted in unison to the speaker.

The cafeteria went dead silent for two seconds. Then the lights were turned on.

The cafeteria was flooded in bright, white light. My eyes felt like they had just been gouged out, and my skin felt like it was on fire. My head felt like it was about to split open, and my sense of balance left me immediately. I fell backward off of the bench and landed on my left side. I cried out in pain, even as I felt the energy leaving my body. My thoughts were erratic and scrambled, and I could only make sense of one word, pushing itself to the front of my mind.

Shade.

I needed shade.

This single thought drove me to drag myself with my arms to the shadow of the bench off of which I had fallen. I closed my eyes and felt my face drop onto the linoleum beneath me. A few seconds later, I was unconscious.

____________________________________________________________________________

The director looked onto the monitor at all of the unconscious Photos in the subject cafeteria. He reached up to scratch a mild itch just beneath his greying, receding hairline. His eyes lingered for a minute or two on the pair of Photos, previously at one another’s throats, now lying on the linoleum of the cafeteria, passed out.

“Turn out the lights. We don’t want to damage any of them. You have to remember that they are all incredibly valuable.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, good.”

“Sir, I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you have me turn on the lights instead of just deploy the agent from their Collars?”

“It is more effective.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t see what is more effective about using light than the agent. Furthermore, it’s considerably riskier than using the Collar, since they can actually get hurt. Finally, and most importantly, using light exposes everyone in the vicinity to that danger, rather than just the offenders themselves.”

“There you go. That’s the one.”

“Excuse me sir?”

“That last reason. The effect of the punishment was felt by all of the Photos in that cafeteria. However, only two of the Photos were doing anything wrong. Can you tell me why I would decide to punish all of them for the missteps of just two?”

“It is not my place to trace your reasoning, sir.”

“You see, the punishment here isn’t coming from us. Sure, we turned on the lights, but the real punishment comes later, comes after they wake up. Because of their actions, everyone had to suffer. We are not punishing them. They will.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.

“I understand, sir.”

“Excellent. Call in the hospital staff to get these Photos moved to the hospital wing.”

“Yes, sir.”

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