You're Early (488 hits)
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Submitted by AJ <uberaj.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-12-05 23:59:37 EST
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
It's become appallingly clear that our technology is surpassing our humanity.
-Albert Einstein
>>>
10 June, 2053
Tuesday
30, 9, 27, 13
John Gahring looked at those four numbers longingly. Four simple numbers, and yet they were the most important in the world.
In a more innocent time, a time John could barely remember, they could have been his Pick 4 numbers for the local lottery. Today, he glimpsed at those numbers and sighed as the last number changed. 13... 12... 11... 10... Soon the third would drop. There was no sense worrying about it. It was inevitable. Four numbers etched onto an electronic screen, imbedded in his wrist. Ever-changing in everything but importance.
John scratched at his head, feeling the rough metal apparatus above his left temple that was about the size of a matchbook. He then looked at the clock and realized suddenly that he was going to be late. 7:33. The walk to work was getting less easy as he got older, he had to have at least 21 minutes or he wouldn't make it in time. He rolled up his sleeve as the numbers on the screen continued to change, emitting a dull red glow through the cotton of his shirt.
He stood from the table and kissed his wife Theresa.
"Goodbye, hon. I'll see you when I get off of work."
"Goodbye. Oh! I almost forgot. We've got an appointment for Jamie with Dr. Simmons on the 13th."
"Already?"
"It's his fifteenth birthday. Don't forget to get him something."
Just then, the young man walked into the room.
"What are you two talking about?" he said as he rubbed his eyes.
"Nothing son," John said. "I've got to run to work, so have a good day at school."
He nudged him with his elbow, grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the hallway.
30:9:18:03
John walked along the street, watching as the commuter rail train went by. The street was empty save people walking or riding bicycles to work. The two concrete lanes were more of a formality than anything these days, as most had been commuted to rail tracks for the solar trains that ran amongst the city.
He quickened his pace as he looked at his arm once more. He found himself finally used to those numbers, and used it more of a watch than of a reminder of what was to come. Didn't need batteries, either.
30:9:6:54
John entered the clinic to see Dr. Simmons standing there ready to greet him.
"Good morning Dr. Simmons."
"John, I'm glad you're here a little bit early this morning. We've got to send someone to the courthouse for a sentencing at 9. I'd like you to handle things. We need to get the calibration right the first time."
"Okay, I can handle that. What are the details of the trial."
"A robbery and a homicide. It's going to cost him five years' time at the minimum. They've got him stone cold on DNA. Not often that we get one this big anymore. You'd better get moving if you want to catch the solar commuter. Traffic's rough this time of morning."
30:8:2:12
John stood behind the bailiff as the sentencing commenced. The judge read the details of the verdict and began to address the perpetrator.
"David Anderson, for your crimes you have been penalized seven years. Let us hope that you can make the most of your remaining time to make up for this travesty. I don't want to have to see you in here again. We're adjourned."
The man started to weep and cried out.
"NO! I'VE GOT A FAMILY, YOU FUCKING MONSTERS!"
He continued yelling until he was tazed by one of the court officers at his side. The people in the crowd began to disperse as the man was put onto a gurney and carted out of the room.
30:7:29:57
John finished scrubbing his hands and went over to where David Anderson was sedated. His head had been shaved above the left temple, revealing a metal piece similar to that which John bore on his own head. John breathed deeply and then set to work.
30:7:25:32
John had removed the cover and gazed at the depths underneath. The Outlet. Everyone in America had one these days, and if you were smart you never had to have it tampered with. David Anderson was not smart. John jammed a cord into The Outlet and followed its trail back to a laptop computer on a pushcart. He flipped open the top and searched for the necessary program. Opening it, he saw what he needed.
4861:7:24:12
The numbers counted down on the screen in front of him. John looked at those numbers and longed for them to be his. He began the execution of the sentence.
30:7:04:19
He took one last glance at the screen and shook his head. He didn't know how he was still doing this job after so long. 2305:7:04:01. That dumb son of a bitch. John couldn't help but hope that he'd raised his own son well enough that he wouldn't wind up doing something like this.
30:5:12:18
David Anderson woke with a start. Almost instinctively, he looked at his wrist. He began to weep. He sat up, and a nurse approached him.
"Mr. Anderson? I've been informed that you're to wear this - as part of your sentence."
She passed him what looked like a roadworker's vest. It was blaze orange with a solid yellow stripe going horizontally around the midsection. It had the word "MURDERER" printed on the back.
"You are to wear it as long as you are in public, but you do not have to in the privacy of your own home. If you fail to adhere to this portion of the sentence, additional reprimands may occur," she continued.
The nurse walked away as David put the vest on over his clothes. He stood up and walked out of the infirmary, out onto the street and back into civilization.
27:0:16:11
John sat next to Jamie in Dr. Simmons office. Dr. Simmons was running late, so Jamie took the time to ask his father a few questions.
"Dad, how long do you think I have?"
"I don't know son. We won't know until we get the test results. You're in good shape physically, and you're smart as a whip."
"I think I did alright, but I guess I'm just worried."
"It's only natural to be worried. It's going to take some getting used to. That screen on your arm is going to get a lot more active soon, and you're going to feel the need to stare at it for awhile. But the more you stare at it, the more it keeps winding down."
"You know you've only got less than a month, right?"
"It's not polite to discuss these things."
"I know, but it's true. What are we going to do when your time's up?"
Just then, Dr. Simmons walked into the room.
"Hello James. John. James, we've got the results of your test, and we're going to get you set up right away. If you just follow Ms. Stevens here to the lab, we'll get you all set to go."
"Dr. Simmons, if you don't mind, I'd like my dad to do the programming."
"Well James, I'm sorry, but I don't think that'd be prudent. I trust your father, but if it were my son on that table I'd be setting the bar a little higher. Right this way, please."
James exited the room, and Dr. Simmons sat down across from John.
"What's the scoop, Frank?"
"180 days."
"WHAT? You're fucking joking, right?"
"I wish I were. He's got a heart condition. It's a mutation caused by the current atmosphere. It's estimated that 5% of all adolescents have contracted it, and will pass it on to their children. The government's hope is that by stamping it out before that generation spreads their seed, it'll limit its contamination."
John wept silently, then burst out of the room.
"JAMES! JAMES!"
He bolted into the lab, and looked on in horror as the computer screen flashed.
179:23:59:59
That night, John, James, and Theresa spent the night in silence. No one said anything about James's programming. It wasn't polite.
John headed to the bathroom, and drew a bath.
Taking a straight razor from the drawer, he slashed his right wrist, then submerged himself in the water. He didn't want to spend 26 days, 20 hours, 01 minute, and 19 seconds like this. He was going to end it on his terms.
>>>>
John woke up, and found himself laying in a familiar place. The laboratory. He looked at his wrist.
24:5:01:02
"Ah, good. You're awake. I'm sorry to inform you that your little ruse didn't work. You're early. You've got so much time left. Let's try and spend these last 24 days being a productive member of the United States government, shall we? Here, put this vest on. I hate to do it, but it has to be this way."
John looked down at the green vest in his lap and saw the word, "TRAITOR" branded on the back.
Dr. Simmons looked at him with concern.
"We can't have any early departures, John. It's not good for morale. Next time you might want to lock the bathroom door. Let rigor mortis set in."
User Reviews
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2006-03-08 09:43:32 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/84852#1873081
Submitted by xxrachel (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:39:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Woah good story!
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:28:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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