Head Collection

Every year, there is a lottery run by the government. Every plebeian above the age of 5 and below the age of 60 is entered in it, non-negotiable. The patricians are excluded, deemed too important.

Those that win the lottery must present themselves to the authorities for disposal. It is said that in a population of 8 billion, 100,000 are chosen. Out of that 100,000 it is not uncommon for a handful to take their own lives or flee.

Jacky, a boy of only 11 summers, was one that fled.

They sent Mira, a new recruit of the Disposal Program's Fugitive Hunting Unit after him.
Fugitive Hunters have only one goal. Collect the heads of those that run.

She tracked the runaway via CCTV and aerial drones as he tried to make his way across the city towards the outskirts, a desolate zone of abandoned factories and mills. This would be her first Hunt.

The driverless van sped towards Jacky's last known spot, a storage unit rental place.
The voice in her earpiece buzzed.

"Orders from command are to exercise caution and eliminate with rapidity, over."

Mira clicked her mic twice to confirm, and checked her gear once more. Hard shell armor jacket, vest with ammo pouches, her exoskeletal leg augmentation unit, an 11mm caseless handgun with flow through suppressor, and the main tool and symbol of the Hunters, the monomolecular active vibration blade. On her back was a large cylindrical pack, with room for 20 heads. Today, it would hold only one.

The van braked to, and stopped in front of the empty storage units. Mira humped out, her sword in her hand. She flipped down her eyepiece, and scanned around. Using data beamed to it from the aerial assets, it superimposed a set of footprints on the ground in front of her. They led to Unit 9.

She approached silently. She heard rustling and heavy breathing coming from inside the unit. Just as she reached the door, it flew open, and a blur rushed past, between her legs.

He was still wearing his school gym uniform. From his athletic build, it was clear how he could have evaded the initial round up team. Unfortunately for him, Mira was a different breed. Her blade in hand, she powered up her exo-augments.

From a standstill, she leapt to a sprint of 45mph, blade outstretched. With her accelerated nervous system, it all seemed to take place in liquid molasses. The boy, only a few meters out, grew larger and larger in her vision. Her eyes honed in on the nape of his neck. She angled the blade slightly, and as she passed by, the knife slid smoothly through Jacky, separating his tousle haired head from his sweat slicked shoulders.

Her non-dominant hand reached up and grabbed Jacky's severed head as it tumbled through the air, blood and spittle drizzling from the terminated cross section of neck. His eyes stared wide open, jaw open in shock.
His headless body, now lacking a central nervous system, flopped forward all rubber-limbed. For a few seconds, the boy's torso shivered, blood spilling forth from the stump on its shoulders. Then, all too soon, the activity ceased, leaving only patterns in the dust, and a spreading puddle of blood haloing the corpse.

Mira raised the head up and stared. Her first success in the field looked back, tawny eyes clouded over. Her eyepiece recorded it all dutifully, the footage streamed back towards HQ to be repackaged and sold to patricians wanting more thrills.

She pulled the pack off her back and set it down beside Jacky's body. The top opened up, letting a wisp of vapor out. Mira gingerly lowered the 11 year old's head into the can for verification at Disposal HQ.

Mira left the body where it fell. It was none of her concern what happened to non-mission vital remains.