There was something surreal about this waiting room, or whatever it was. Like it was trying to be friendly but somehow missing the mark, like the lobby of a chain hotel. The lights were bright, gentle, inoffensive “life music” played in the background, propaganda posters along the walls extolled the virtues of “The System” – in one, a naked girl a little older than herself was being held up on the shoulders of what was clearly meat to be a cross-section of society as their hero. In another, a picture-perfect family of four, the parents young and athletic, the roughly six year old brother and sister suitable cherubic and adorable stood naked, smiling proudly at something slightly out of frame while the sun rose behind them. Benches ran the whole length of both sides and every so often, uniformed officials would come through one of two doors at the far end and collect a batch of between four and six Animals then the rest of them would shuffle down to make space for the newcomers at the other end.

Looking around, it struck Kennedy how many people seemed to be together. Couples, parents and children, even a family of four so similar to those in the poster she was sure that they would used for some kind of publicity if they hadn’t already before meeting their end. It had never really occurred to her how many people must actually volunteer all the time to keep the meat supply at the level it seemed to be. Sure, there was the lottery and was sure she couldn’t be the only one there because of that but, now she thought about it, getting picked that way was rare enough to be a novelty. Most people knew someone who had been converted by draw but not everyone had lost a family member that way, not an immediate one anyway. Enough people, she realised, my willingly offer up their bodies for the lottery to be considered something of a last resort. Lucky old her, she supposed!

Always an avid people-watcher and reasonably good at keeping herself entertained, Kennedy started to discretely study the other animals and try to work out what their journey had been. There were plenty just like her, of course, on their own and accepting their fate with varying degrees of stoicism but what about the couples and the families? Or groups of friends? It was possible, of course, that some of these less definable groups had simply got to know each other during their final week and made the decision to arrive together, but some were likely a mix of lottery draws and volunteers, friends signing up in solidarity when their bestie’s watched turned red. That was likely the case with a lot of the couples too, one volunteering to support the other, not wanting to face the future without them. The same probably went for the women who had children with them. Some would have volunteered to go with their lottery-converted kids while others probably got drawn themselves and decided to volunteer their children along with them rather than have them become wards of the state.

It was not a discussion Kennedy and her mum had even had. There had been the usual assurances of pride, of course, and promises to miss her, accompanied by an appropriate amount of tears, but neither had even thought to suggest that Kennedy’s mum should volunteer to go with her. Her dad had been lost to the lottery when she was two years old, not that she really remembered him. She had vague recollections of a nice man who would read her stories with funny voices and make her giggling by throwing her up in the air and catching her again who had one day just not been there any more but that was about it and her mum had done a great job of raising her alone ever since.

Other families had probably decided to volunteer en masse, either out of a sense of civic duty or when life took some unexpected turns they were simply not able to willing to deal with. The same probably went for some of the couples, the younger ones especially. Star-crossed lovers choosing to willingly embrace death together rather than risk separation in this life. Kennedy couldn’t help scoffing a little at the silliness. Still, she supposed it was kinda sweet in its own way.

She did wish Bobby was there. It would have been nice to have a friend to spend these last hours with, but a quirk of geography meant that he had been ordered to report to a processing centre in the next city, since their small down straddled the border of two counties with her street being in one and his, less than ten minutes walk away, being in the other. The pool where they took their swim classes offered free, Animal-only hours every morning before they opened to the general public and they had both gone to those every day. Kennedy had enjoyed going along to those, relaxing by swimming up and down the pool, trying out different strokes and techniques. The routine had given her days structure. Wake up at six, light breakfast, catch the but at five minutes past seven, swim from eight until nine. There were other regulars of varying ages that she had got to know casually over the course of the week and it had felt like a little community. In fact, she had gone that morning too, before taking her final journey. Once last moment of relative normalcy before...whatever this was!

Knowing that her mum, for all her belief in The System and pride in her daughter, would have a hard time actually being the one to drive her to her death, Kennedy had offered to catch the bus and deliver herself but then Mrs Jenkins from next door, the kind older lady who often used to babysit her in her younger days when her mum was at work, or have her over for dinner and to watch cartoons on her big TV, had popped over for coffee and offered to give her a ride. It had felt much nicer being driven to the processing centre by a friendly, reassuringly familiar family friend rather than having to ride with a bunch of strangers, everyone knowing exactly where she was going and why.

The officials who were coming to collect the batches of Animals weren’t calling names. She supposed they didn’t really have them any more. Officially, her life had ended when her watch had been removed and wiped. That was when her government record would stop. When she had been marked as “Deceased – Processed”. Dead girl walking. Now she was in a kind of limbo, a state of existence but non-existence. Although her legal personhood had ended when her watch turned red, she was still something. An Animal. But what was she now? Nothing. An ingredient in someone else’s menu. There was no objective difference between her and a pack of bacon or sausages on the store shelf. Three deaths? Or death in three parts? Either way, the result was the same.


To be continued...