elimination

I rush around the room frantically trying to find Dagger. We are supposed to pick a partner for Practical Training and I don’t in particularly feel like ripping 14′s eyes out today. If I had to choose anyone’s eyes to stab out, they would be hers. Finally I see her, we rush towards each other instantly in a silent agreement. Yet before she gets to me she stops suddenly with a sly smile as 14 cuts her off, walking towards me. No way am I partnering up with him. I make a 360 degree turn and find myself facing Switch. “Partners?” he asks. “Partners,” I respond.

Great! (Sarcasm) Now I end up with someone who is as competitive as I am, who won’t inexplicably risk himself for me like 14 and whom I don’t entirely dislike. Choosing partners never works out well for me. I inconspicuously run my eyes up and down Switch looking for exploitable weaknesses. “You know you can stop sizing up ways to kill me,” he says amused; I look up quizzically as he continues. “I heard them talking, we are working together today, not against each other..” I don’t believe him but I nod anyways relinquishing my death stare slightly.

Apocalypse leads us through one of the many doors in the Practical Training room and into a sterile white labyrinth. We walk through a narrow, well lit hallway for what feels like a quarter of a mile. Pairs of Titles are dropped off in various dark rooms and quickly disappear behind heavy metal doors. Finally Apocalypse opens a door gesturing Switch and I inside of what appears to be an operating room. He shuts the door and I hear the click of a lock. Our wrist ports buzz emitting beams of light that merge together and create a three dimensional holographic image in front of both of us. Doomsday’s voice begins to speak as an operating room appears on the screen that is identical to this one except for the presence of a body on the table. I anxiously look over at our operating table to notice a human figure draped in white. I choke on my saliva for half a second edging slightly away from the table as I watch the projection.

“Today you shall be learning not to fear what can not hurt you, and not to possess reverence for what can no longer be revered. To complement your studies in Past Events you will be mummifying biological matter.” My eyes grow to five times their normal circumference. I remember seeing a picture of a mummy in a text book once; I can’t explain why but it gave me nightmares, the images searing a permanent scar into my mind. Funny how the things you try most to forget are the things that stay with you indefinitely. I have always hated corpses, especially the notion of decaying: worms and puffy flesh, dry yellow eyes and teeth peeking out from behind the ragged remnants of what used to be lips. I shudder inwardly.

I watch in horror as mini versions Doomsday and Apocalypse begin to casually remove the brain of the corpse on the screen via the nose, yet it isn’t just a corpse. I recognize the face: 30, a girl with light brown features. About a month ago she slipped on ice and cracked her right patella, she couldn’t walk and disappeared quickly afterward. Her knee, which once was bruised and bloated is now perfect as she lies completely naked on the operating table, eyes staring into nothingness. Funny how they felt the need to fix it in death, but not in life. I look from the screen to the operating table in front of us and start to panic internally. Switch is turning green. We both watch transfixed as they go through a slow and tedious process turning 30 into hollow husk.

Regaining my composure I begin to take notes on my wrist port gesturing for Switch to do the same. Finally 30′s transformation is complete: she has become a thin human shape wrapped in white cloth. The video times out and Switch and I are left staring into space. After several minutes seem to pass I take charge. If there is one thing I learned from my whole ordeal with 12 it is that you must always keep your composure. “Come on 42, we only have six hours to complete a process that was once took over 70 days.” I boldly make a move up to the table and throw off the plastic covering on the body before I can object to my own actions. The cold dead eyes of Captain Neutrally stare up at me in an accusing matter as I jump away from the table letting out a small yelp and almost knocking Switch to the ground.

“28,” Switch murmurs looking far away. I had never really thought about it before but I always used to see them together in the halls and on the running trails. Captain Neutrality had been Switch’s version of my 12. Switch’s cold facade and his carefree facade have both vanished, leaving him a scared little boy. I want to say something but in doing so I know the only person I will make feel better is myself. I finally blurt out an awkward “my condolences,” and proceed to check my watch. We have only five and a half hours left, and I know that in some other room of this building Dagger and One—who would gleeful carve up anyone dead or alive—have already effectively removed the brain.

I can’t let them win. I close Captain Neutrality’s eyes gently and cover his face and genitals with small slabs of white cloth. My right hand grabs an ugly instrument that resembles a hook. Cautiously I begin loosening the brain while tentatively asking Switch to start removing the other organs. Extracting the brain is a long slow and tedious process that leaves me nauseous. I try not to think about the fact that the grey glop I am currently throwing into a Bio Hazard bag is a person’s entire identity, a person I suppose I could have considered my friend. Switch is cautiously removing the heart, making the room smell more and more like what I would assume is formaldehyde.

I can tell Switch is struggling; I can’t imagine having to do this to 12. I go around to the other side of the body to help him with the internal organs. We continue in silence, with only the sickening sound of instruments snipping away at flesh and our own breath, which shows up white and smoky against the freezing air. I refuse to continue like this for the next five hours. “So, isn’t it a beautiful day?” Switch chokes on oxygen looking up at me as though I have five heads. “Please humor me,” I say in exasperation. A ghost of a smile appears on his face, “Gorgeous weather, you couldn’t ask for a warmer, more clear afternoon.”

Just then I hear a strong gust of wind from the blizzard outside and let out a misplaced giggle that turns into howling laughter as we both step back from the table and double over, all of our former anxiety bubbling over into hysteria. After a long drawn out laugh we return to the tedious task at hand. I begin to speak, “I loved and hated the way he always saw both sides to things. He always made you think twice about the stuff you had always just accepted as true.” “Yeah,” Switch agrees fondly, “It always used to get him in trouble, but I loved him for it.”

A moments hesitation ensues before I ask Switch, “How did you know the partnerships would be working together today, not fighting?” After carefully removing the gallbladder he responds. “Teachers 2.2 and 2.3 take their sustenance at the table across from mine, I can hear them talking.” “Lucky!” I exclaim with mock anger, and real jealousy. “Wait, if you knew what we were doing ahead of time how come it took you so long to choose a partner. I would have decided ahead of time and made a beeline for the best person possible.” “That is what I did,” replies Switch. I look at him quizzically. “I won’t disagree that I am smart, and that I am competitive, but after my reaction to what happened to 12, I wouldn’t trust me to mummify another person I know. I get too attached to people. If I were you I would have chosen One.”

Switch seems to ponder this for a moment before beginning to speak, “I chose you because I know that at the end of the day you will take care of yourself like the rest of us, making you strong and objective. Yet at the same time the thing that sets you apart from One or 11 is a sense of loyalty to more than one person When someone looks out for you, you look out for them. I would rather have that person on my team than someone like One. I wouldn’t be surprised if One and I were working next to each other and she stabbed me in the back just to get rid of me. Can’t you just picture it, ’oops silly me, gee I thought you were the cadaver! Well it’s bad luck to remove an odd number of kidneys!” I snicker, and imitate One in an equally shrill singsongy voice that sounds much more amusing on Switch, “Oh Title 42 you have such lovely eyes if only I could get a closer look at them, hmm, I know I’ll just yank them out of your skull with my knife!” We both double over laughing and resume our work.

I can’t help but feel slightly flattered after Switch’s assessment of my character. He’s right; as much as I aspire to indifference and strength, I have never lost a sense of loyalty, or maybe just dutiful reciprocation. Switch looks off into the distance abstractly before beginning to speak. “You know, he started to change a great deal in the weeks leading up to his death, he started to question things, even more than he usually does. He also stopped going to Completion of Assigned Work, but he never told me where he was going.” Oh no. Me and my “concepts of loyalty,” this was all a trick, he wants to know about Bump Nose’s group. With my luck the officials probably sent him to question me, I have always been a sucker for compliments. This is why I don’t trust people.

“I don’t know, I didn’t know him that well,” I say in response.” “Oh,” he replies turning to the spleen. We continue without talking until suddenly Switch slams the spleen into the biohazard bag and begins to yell, “I don’t get it, I thought you of all people would understand after what happened to 12. I lost my friend, even before he died, I just want to know what happened.” The exasperation in his voice and the desperation in his eyes seems genuine. I feel my heart starting to melt, but I am not about to be manipulated. “I wish I could help you.” There is truth in my words.

“It’s fine,” he replies looking bitter and lost. I throw myself into extracting the stomach, determined to let the conversation die, but I can’t do it. I have to help him. “Tell me how I can trust you,” I command. He looks puzzled, “Why wouldn’t you trust me?” “Because you haven’t given me any reason to.” I reply in a slightly patronizing manner. “Give me something I can use to blackmail you.” He looks down at his bloody white gloves, “Fine, but only if you tell me where 28 was going.” “Deal,” I respond, “You first.” He responds promptly, “I don’t take the dopamine pills.” “What!?!” I say, my voice a few octaves too high, “How? Why?”

He answers cautiously, “I don’t like distorting reality and I don’t like how they make me feel, it’s like a fuzzy, false sense of security, if that’s true happiness I don’t want to be happy.” I have never met anyone who feels the same way as I do about the dopamine pills, or at least anyone who would admit it. I look at him with newfound respect; perhaps we are not so different, perhaps I should tell him.......NO! “First you have to tell me how,” I say authoritatively. His response is eager. “I move it under the middle of my upper lip, they never notice when I open my mouth, they just expect us to take them and don’t really check properly. Come on tell me please! All you would have to do is sell me out for not taking the pills, they would test me and find that the drug is not in my system and I would end up like 28.” He motions to the red chasm we are working over.

Still not convinced I elicit yet another response, “How does it feel not to take them?” Now I can tell he is getting annoyed. He advances toward me raising his voice. “I told you, now you have to tell me, tell me or I’ll....” I interject with steely letters. “Tell you or you will what?” He pauses for a moment, before beginning to speak, “I will tell the officials about you and 14.” Now I get really mad, “There is nothing to tell!!” “I know,” Switch replies. “I will do it anyway.” Frustrated I pick up the colon and poke the tiniest of tiny holes in it with my knife. “Be patient, tell me what I need to know and I will tell you what you need to know. That is the agreement. Otherwise I will throw your friend’s colon at your face.”

Switch looks entirely shocked. “Whatever agreement your genome has with the gods of our society that let you make it to Level Two with blue eyes is not going to save you when you start using biological warfare.” I can’t help but giggle at this and soon we are laughing hysterically all over again as I put the colon in the biohazard bag. I decide to risk it, “We go to Bump Nose’s room in order to obtain further understanding of the content in Past Events.” “Thank you,” he responds with quiet gratitude, “You won’t regret trusting me. I don’t suppose I would be allowed to join you there?” I chew my lower lip. I don’t like this; I don’t like this at all. But if he joins us then he is just as susceptible to getting caught as the rest of us, therefore he has nothing to gain from telling the officials. He will have to keep his mouth shut or we all go down including him. I give him a nod. “Proceed at your own risk.”

Having thrown everything in the biohazard bag, we rinse the carcass out with a strong smelling chemical that requires the use of long gloves and masks. It dries the body instantly, leaving Captain Neutrality looking utterly terrifying. We stuff the corpse with soft white material and wrap it in white cloth. There are about 20 minutes to spare, we step back to take a look at our handiwork. I don’t know if I will ever be able to eat again. “I wish we could just leave the room,” Switch says sullenly. “Yeah,” I say matching his tone of voice, “I do too.” We stand in silence staring at the corpse. I suppose we should be scared, or say a few words, but my emotions are spent for the day. I have learned not to fear what can’t hurt me and I have learned not to possess reverence for what can no longer be revered. Yet I wonder how is it that he can no longer be revered, if they didn’t revere him in the first place.