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Writing > Users > Panther > 2013

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Panther on April 11, 2013
"I really did write this in the time it says!"

Recycle Me!

One.
Two.
Three.
I am counting my breaths. Every one is precious to me. They are people I know.
Within the domes, I am honored to be the astro-navigator, whose job is to make minute adjustments to satellite trajectories.
The woman I love is Nikita, and her birthday is today. After her vacation last year, she gave me an antique gift. A relic, really. It's called "Canned Sea Breeze". It's a tourist souvenir gimmick from a hundred years ago; just an empty can of air. I'm sure it cost her a week's wages, but it looks nice here on my desk.
On the side, I have a secret job. I use my account to hack into the random number generators, used by the Selector. It's a computer that randomly selects people once they reach age thirty. Only today, it won't be so random.
I see the number, 2943894, and I know it like a friend. It is Nikita's number.
The human body contains an average of 43 Kg of precious oxygen.
It will only take a few seconds for her oxygen to be breathed in and out by collective humanity.
Four, five, six.
This life we live is a nightmare, since the planet's oxygen became so scarce. People are allowed to live only to one quarter of their natural lifespan, and being sacrificed for their molecules. People are so much more than particles.
Accessing the asteroid database, I discovered a large one that is primarily made of oxygen ice. First I made an appeal to the Elders, that we should retrieve it to help our oxygen-starved planet. When I was denied, I hatched an illegal, and forbidden plan: to crash three satellites into it, to change it's trajectory and crash the asteriod into the Earth. It would instantly vaporize, and restore much of our needed oxygen.
Something is wrong: my scan card is not working. I know immediately what this means, as my heart rate and breathing quicken. I have been discovered.
The doorway slides open with a hiss, and two Enforcers are there, their metal robotic bodies ready to arrest me.
As they insert me into the machine that will convert me to oxygen, I realize they are too late. I have saved Nikita, and diverted the satellites. As I see my legs begin to dissolve, I know there is hope for everyone else.
Seven, eight, nine.

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