The Civilization

“Was the answer really worth risking my life for?” I ask myself as I hit return home on the Nav Screen of my new Space Voyager Evo. Just an hour ago I went from being the most prestigious Elder in the Tollerome Replication Program to spending every every possible second fearing for my life. There was a popular saying back in the day. Curiosity killed the cat. Well I think I’m the cat in this situation.

“Maybe they won’t realize I took it” I thought to myself as I looked down at a large plastic binder filled to the brim with research papers. Displayed across the front was a single ominous sentence “Population control through the fear of disease” that will continue to haunt me until they day that I die.  My heart threatened to explode out of my chest as I opened it up to the first section. Knowledge is power has always been The Civilization’s motto but how much knowledge is too much?

“Test subjects are more willing to accept a short life if the knowledge is instilled in them that due to a genetic disease said subjects are unable to live past a certain age” I read aloud to myself from the page in front of me. Could the legends of the Skrills really be true? It seemed impossible that I was actually asking myself this question. The Skrills were simple people who lived outside of the walls of The Civilization, long forgotten by the people who cast them out. It was often rumored that before their purge that they were the reason the disease entered The Civilization in the first place.

“Cause and affect are key. Isolate a group of like individuals and theorize that their genetic structure allows for mutations to happen that allow the transmission of diseases in a virus like fashion. As long as it is written well enough with scientific terms the general population will begin to isolate these individuals without government interaction. We have learned that fear is the best way to spread our agenda.” This statement is what drew me to steal the book in the first place.

My heart had been racing as I walked through the building with it in my arms. The binder stood out like a sore thumb as it had been a century since conventional writing had died away. Since the 21st century everything was transcribed electronically as it allowed for a more efficient way of getting things done. That being said the object making my arm protrude out further than the average tablet was causing me to become the center of attention. “Hey Mark! Did you get tasked with transcribing the literary masterpieces of Donald Trump’s social media accounts in the 21st century?” asked Phil, an old co-worker of mine who’s humor was as dry as his personality.

“Of all the times he could have, why did he have to single me out at that moment?” I asked myself as I ran the memory through my head again. I had stood paralyzed in fear after Phil called out my name. Wondering to myself who all would notice the damning evidence between my arms, when a firm grip clamped down on my shoulder.

“Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Anderson is on the line for you. Would you like me to answer it?” The virtual assistance asked from inside my nav screen, pulling me from the daydream I was getting engulfed in.

“Thank you Nav you can put her through” I replied.

“Where the hell did you go?” My wife asked in a frantic tone.

“I’m sorry sweetie I had something come up” I hurriedly replied as my mind started to race again. How much did she know? Who has she talked to? What has she told th-

“The Police are here asking a lot of questions” she said interrupting my train of thought. “They say you’ve stolen company property and they’re here to get it back” she continued. “What have you gotten us into Mark?” she asked with an unnerving fear in her voice. Before I could formulate an answer the Nav screen cut out. The normal navigation map that took up the screen was replaced by a yellow triangle with a single sentence beneath it. Please wait while we reconnect to The Civilizations main servers.

“Christine?” I asked aloud hoping our conversation was still connected, despite knowing that something went wrong. This is weird I thought to myself. Communication doesn’t just disconnect in The Civilization. Every single piece of electronic equipment is interconnected in some way shape or form and has been for the better part of a hundred years. As the fear started to get its grip on me I had an even more sinister thought lurking in the background. If the communication to my Space Voyager had been cut why was it still driving, or even worse, where was it still driving?

“You have something we want” said an older voice breaking through the silence. My Nav screen still showed the same error as earlier yet the internal speakers seemed to be connected to a call. “Don’t worry we’re not going to kill you,” the voice said with a snicker. “Although we will have to make it believable” he finished. From my right I heard the scream of tires and broken glass. Something grazed my neck and as my hand met warm liquid I felt the car lurch to one side and start rolling. My head crashed into the dashboard that was now becoming a part of me as the red tinge of blood tainted my vision.

Fighting through the fog that was slowly replacing my brain I tried to find the binder. I reached to my right and felt a familiar corner sticking out from beneath the seat. Somehow it had managed to lodge itself underneath the passenger seat when the car was flipping. Grabbing the edge of the binder I dislodged it from its hiding place and crawled out of the broken window beside me. I sat it down on the pavement as I kneeled down beside it trying to regain my composure. “Thank you Mr. Anderson you’ve been very helpful.” Said a man’s voice from beside me as he reached down to pick the binder up. “We’ll be in touch.” He finished as he grabbed the back of my head, slammed it into the pavement, and chuckled as he watched the consciousness leave my body.