27 January 2013
{A short story - a random idea!}
I must have done something bad. That's why people are Wiped.
I woke in the hospital, staring up at a blank ceiling. Sitting in a blank room. My mind? Blank. My fists were clenched at my side. I calmly - blankly, even - unclenched them, and pressed the button by the side of my bed for a nurse. 'Oh, good, you're awake!' The woman was round and red-cheeked. She patted my hair as if I were a pet. I just stared at her. Blankly. She asked me questions.
'How are you feeling?' 'Okay.'
'What day is it?' 'I don't know.'
'What's your name?' 'I don't know.'
She left, and I stared up at the ceiling again. There was no limit to how many times I could think the word 'blank' and have it apply. I wondered what I'd done. Only criminals - people who had done bad, bad things - were Wiped. I took a sip of water. It was tasteless, which surprised me. I couldn't even remember drinking water. I didn't like it.
I left the hospital the next day. Collected by a tall man in a pressed suit. He was so skinny it looked painful. I thought the wind might blow him over. He asked me my name. I told him I wasn't sure what it was. He didn't look surprised.
'Pick one, then.' 'Okay. My name is Caroline.' 'Okay, Caroline.'
I was Caroline. The man took me to a dome-like facility. He told me that I needed new records because I didn't actually exist.
'Why don't I exist?' 'Because you were Wiped.' 'Why was I Wiped?' 'Because you did something bad.'
In the facility, I was issued new, nondescript clothing: simple shirts and trousers. Nothing fancy. Nothing that someone might comment on, appreciatively. Then, I was given a file. In the file, there were sheets and sheets of paper. I vaguely remembered the feel of paper against my skin from before I was Wiped. I didn't much like it. I had to write my name along a few dotted lines. I wrote
'C a r o l i n e'
in wobbly, unsure letters. I had a new identity. Then, the thin man took me to a small office and say behind a desk in front of me.
'We need to discuss your future.' 'Okay.' 'Because of your age-' 'How old am I?' 'You are seventeen.' 'Okay.' 'Because of your age you can either go into care or start a life of work.'
I couldn't choose because I had no preference, so the thin man chose for me. Two hours later, I had a tiny suitcase and was on my way to a middle-aged woman's house. She was to be my new guardian. "Mrs Woollendale."
The house was quiet. Mrs Woollendale let me into an attic room and told me grumpily it was my bedroom. I had my own space. I might have had space before, but I couldn't remember it. Mrs Woollendale left and I lay down on my bed. I stared blankly up at the ceiling.
My name is Caroline. I was Wiped, because I did something terrible. But now I cannot remember it, and have been given a second chance.
Wiped. • Opuss № I