Fragments of a whole
‘Emotion is a disease'
Three years after the third world war, mankind was at the brink of destruction. Overpopulation, corruption, famine, war, pollution, the list went on. Mankind was a flawed design, yet one that could be altered into perfection. The design, or drug, they came up with had many names; Stabilization drug, the SE-hk192, the limiter. Yet most people simply called it the cure. After a few years of testing the drug became mandatory, refusal would be met with swift execution. The drug proved ineffective within a certain percentage of the population, (0,02%). These individuals either had a weaker effect from the medication or were completely immune. Most of the immune quickly rebelled against the path mankind was heading to, only to be met with complete and global annihilation. People who had a SE-Hk192 effective rate of 98% and higher were deemed cured, a 1% lower was already considered flawed.
The drug would reduce negative emotions to almost non existing levels. Due to the decrease in that type of emotional behavior mankind slowly started bettering itself. The decrease of pride, lust and envy were the first noticeable symptoms from this cure.
In the next few centuries mankind was slowly correcting itself. Strict rules were implemented, preventing people from having more than two offspring, while only people with a good genetic background were allowed to reproduce. Slowly the overpopulation was slowing down to a more manageable state while disease and genetic flaws were simply being bred out.
Great scientific advancements were made in several fields allowing this new world to shape itself in a perfect utopia. Slowly former cities were being converted into more modern designs, housing was made similar and distributed evenly among the population. People were being located to certain locations simply because it was more efficient for their work. School and education reached a new high, classes finally reaching a 98% attendance worldwide, only illness and the occasional injury kept it from reaching 100.
Yet with all the advancement mankind made they also lost a part of what mad them human. The drug had some side effects in the long run, only noticeable after several years of intake. Joy, excitement, sexual attraction and pleasure, artistic nature, creativity, all these things began to decrease as well. People only sought a partner because of the need to reproduce and efficient housing options. Artist slowly dwindled until finally art became a taboo. Humor became a word used only during history lessons, comedians and funny movies were soon forgotten. Mankind simply became a well-oiled efficient machine that felt nothing.
Eventually humanity decided on the plan to stop executing people who scored lower than 98%, now sending them towards stabilization camps instead of execution. Within those camps people would be forced to adjust to the society at all cost. Mankind decided this would be more beneficial than simply slaughtering people. Seeing as there were quite some small scale rebel camps out in the wild, or wilders as they called them now, the cured wilders could reveal a lot of Intel.
Within the ranks of the populace a promising young male has been rewarded a position in the Stabilization camp. Although young and lacking experience his methods of ‘curing’ people are effective. His latest assignments were already being transported to the facility he and his coworkers were currently stationed at. “Effective Cure rating of 97%” He said coldly as he browsed file number one. He smiled briefly as he felt the surge of emotion. He always found it funny how a person who was Immune to the drug could achieve such a high position without anyone discovering this fact.
The reason people never found out about his little secret was because how well he blended in with people. For years he had been one of them, following the same boring routine he did every day. When puberty had hit him, the drug began to lose effectiveness, finally doing nothing at all when he reached the age of twenty. He still took all the mandatory injections and pills, all to keep the levels in his blood at the same level as anyone else.
He licked his lips as he walked towards the examination room. Ironic how an incurable one was curing others. The young twenty three year old moved towards the window as he peered outside. In the distance two large vehicles were making their way towards the facility. Each would hold around twenty people, captured or willing volunteers. Usually the facility produced about a 23% cure rate. The ones who did not achieve the necessary stabilization percentage would either die during the treatment or executed after a term of six years.
The young male took a step back as he stared at himself, a reflection cast back from the window. A tall male, above six feet. Short dark brown hair and bright grey eyes that usually had a stern cast to them. Wearing his white lab coat he made his way towards the separation quarters, briefly flashing his ID card in front of the scanner before stepping inside. He took his place next to his colleges and waited for the ‘infected’ to make straight line in front of them. “Lance Erilius II, you have the first pick.” One of his colleges told him in a monotone voice, not a single trace of emotion in his tone. “Indeed” Lance told him as he stepped forwards. “Line up.” He said flatly, his eyed searching the crowd.
He already had twenty nine test subjects in his section of this compound, 25 of them were people from other cure-centers who’s treatment proved ineffective. Most of them lingered on the 95-97% of being fully cured. Most situations it was pure genetics that proved the flaw in the design, a simple matter of hormonal treatment or supplements would solve the problem, although a few years of observation would be required to ensure their full ‘recovery’. He glanced around the room and found a subject he required. The individual, was staring back defiantly, no doubt a freshly caught rebel. Something in the set of the eyes was familiar, as if he had seen those eyes before. “That one.” He said calmly, nodding once to himself to drive the message home. Seconds later the person was grabbed by three armed guards, dragging the captive further off into the facility.
The choosing usually meant picking a candidate that would be best suited to a specific correction method. Besides the ‘wildling’ he chose three other subjects, all three of them were close to a 96/97%. By doing this he demonstrated to his colleges that he was still new and learning the workings, as was protocol. “You three, line up and follow me.” He glanced to his left and noticed the three trained security guards following him. Protocol demanded a detained personal that was not contained or sedated had to be guarded. Lance led the way through multiple corridors, letting this makeshift snake of white and grey uniforms explore this station. How lucky he was to have been granted the opportunity of getting his hands on a wildling, a person who had never had the cure in his life.
Of the twenty nine people he already had in his care, twenty five were treated completely by himself, the other 4 were cases he was assigned to when a college of him died of old age. Two normal cases with a severe genetic flaw that would never result in a cure and two former wilders now nearing the end of the curing fase.
“Stand down.” He told the guards as they took up position next to several steel doors. “Each of you take a room and await further instructions.” Again he spoke careful and accurate, as if each word was carefully weighed. The three new subjects were herded into the room and locked in, secured by steel and armed men outside. Lance knew he should start the treatment on them, yet his mind kept wandering back to the wilder who was dragged off to the special holding cell.
He discussed a few things with his colleges and studied a few charts about his new subjects. He did not know why but he wanted to… know the wildling. A sort of craving. He was often confused about his emotions, after all he had no reference to whom he could compare it to. This emotion could be hate, lust, envy, etc. He stepped into the special holding cell as he closed the door behind him.
“My name is Doctor Lance Erilius the second. For the remainder of your correction time I will be in charge of your cure. You can address me as doctor, correctional officer or by my full name.” He said this while speaking through a small device on his wrist, reproducing the sounds in three other chambers where his other new test subjects were. He undid the communication device as he walked closer towards the male, now securely placed inside a holding device, arms and legs held together by layers of thick plastic.
“What is your name.” He said calmly as he gazed at the creatures eyes, noticing once more how familiar the eyes were. He knew he had seen their kind before. Then it came to him, one of the transfers he had gotten from his former college, a woman. She was a few years older, yet she had been captured on a raid a while back. She was already far in her treatment process, yet still close enough for him to go and fetch her.