The System
An imaginative composed by Cooper (Year 10)
They watched me blink. Every movement, every gesture, every thought was logged. When my pupils dilated, they knew. When my body twitched, they knew. From the moment we opened our eyes in this world, we were tagged, linked, seen. We were born as humans, but soon became data. Each of us confined to a file, a line of code in their computers, managed by a chip implanted in the base of our necks. We were tracked. Watched. Analysed. We had nothing to hide because there was nowhere to hide. The thick glass walls of my unit shimmered in the artificial sunlight, as the piercing red surveillance lasers covered every surface in grid lines. They called it protection, it felt more like a cage. The silence was deafening. Nobody dared to speak. We communicated through glances. A twitch of the eye spoke a thousand words. A tightening of the jaw could tell stories. The Masters warned us of these micro-gestures.
I remember the day my neighbour, Lilah, disappeared. One moment she was perched upon her rigid bed frame, tracing her hand upon the glass. The next morning, she was gone. Her unit stood cold and empty. Not a trace of life remained. No explanation. A warning to all of us. Her absence wasn’t just noticed, it was felt; a shadow casted over us. No one asked what happened. We didn’t need to. The message was clear. The system didn’t have to shout its power. Lilah didn’t just disappear, she was erased.
I reflected on the last glance she gave me. It was strange. Different. Longer than usual. I recall her eyes flicker towards the ceiling. No one ever looked up. The ceilings were a blind spot from cameras. What did Lilah see? The Masters warned us about imagination. They said it was dangerous. That it led to questions. And questions led to rebellion. That night my curiosity overruled my body. My eyes drifted towards the ceiling. The ceiling was white. A blank canvas for my mind. I pictured blue skies with fluffy clouds, birds soaring aimlessly, trees swaying in the slight breeze. And in that moment, I felt something I’ve never felt before. Freedom. I was brought back to reality by a soft beep. My chest tightened as I glanced at the flickering yellow light above my door. They knew. I was being watched more closely now. My breath became shallow as I put the pieces together. Lilah had looked up. Lilah had imagined. And now, so had I.
I sat still, barely breathing. The yellow light above my door continued to blink. It was consistent, like a countdown. I was on high alert. I sat rigid. My spine at a ninety degree angle, feet flat on the ground and arms by my side. I couldn’t move. Or I would be next. I watched the light flicker. Then it happened, the moment I had been dreading. The light turned red. A breach in conduct. My blood pressure rose. My heartbeat became louder than the silence surrounding me. I stared into the complex lense of the central camera, sweat dripping down my forehead. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. They got closer. Louder. Faster. They were coming.
The footsteps stopped. I shifted my sight towards the metal door of my unit. I could see my reflection staring back at me in the polished steel. Pale. Scared. I shut my eyes. There it was… the soft click of the lock. The door creaked open swiftly. Three masked figures stood upon the narrow doorway. The Masters. Each dressed in black from head to toe, mirrored visors covering their faces. One stepped forward to the base of my chair, its voice cold and sharp. “You know why we’re here.” My throat tightened. I didn’t know what to say. I nodded slowly. I was scared to speak. My eyes darted to the corners of the room. Still no exits. The microchip in my neck pulsated beneath my skin, as my hand drifted towards it. One of them leaned in. “Don’t touch it,” his voice echoed sharply. Fear, defiance and desperation filled my mind. My fingers crept closer. “Don’t you dare do it!” He reinforced it. But my fingers were already there.
