Ilja Richter

The Hunting of mutants (dystopia)



It is the year 2095.
 
The radiant sun doesn’t seem to shine through the gray clouds.
The houses that once were inhabited by people are lonely and abandoned in the area,
also cars are dirty, which usually crossed streets of New York decades ago.
-A secluded area.  A timeless view-
Everywhere are broken windows, asphalt cracks and buildings, which are now affected by the moss.
 
Outside we listen to the words of an old major.
‘Several scientist are stupid’, because they have missed their supervision obligations!’, he screams lamentingly.
"They have performed legitimate manipulations on bums.
But the homeless idiots could escape from their laboratories.’
At the same time he stuffs a colorful pill in his mouth.
You can buy those pills very cheap like food everywhere.
‘I want that you shoot these bastards without feelings, before they mate with us!’
This man is not a believer and a friend of the church.
The church and a belief in the good are averse for him and not just for a major in this century.
Major’s rough voice, which becomes slightly louder, interrupts suddenly my thoughts.
Apparently, he has noticed that I was absent.
‘As you know, our earth is radioactively contaminated.
The wealthy people have brought their property and families to mars.
They buy residences there and have thus fled from the danger.
It is our duty to clean the earth, because we haven’t any other way.
That’s why we should think about the future of our children.
So freedom, safety and cleanliness of life are our goals!’
"We can begin to kill the mutants’, jokes one soldier.
 
As planned, around 3 o'clock in the morning, our planned mission is beginning; ‘The Hunting of Mutants’.
Through the darkness I am moving quietly to a back door and
In the next moment I am seeing a male mutant, who is standing in front of me.
We call these people mutants, because they are different to what we are.
 
Other than expected, the mutant falls down to my foot and begins to tremble.
It is scared and I was not expecting this sort of reaction.
This reaction is contrary to what we had learned in books and in the military.
Next I tell him that he should stand up.
 
Suddenly, as he is looking up to me, I recognize that this hybrid was an old friend of mine.
Or even is? No, he is not.
Only such subjective thoughts strangle me.
The only thing that reminds me of him are the facial features.
He does not recognize me. He does not understand my language.
A shiver runs down my back.
 
In the end,
While I see the soldiers coming, I put my gun on the ground and go outside. 
 

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ilja Richter.
Published on e-Stories.org on 12/06/2012.

 

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