The Next One

The Next

In the silent examination room, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Pale light shone down, piercing a pair of pupils that kept dilating and contracting.

The person bound to the chair made muffled noises and struggled desperately.

The chair bolted to the floor creaked incessantly, echoing through the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant, while the scratching of pen against paper continued without end.

"Relax. Don't be nervous. Open your mouth."

The doctor lifted the tongue depressor and tossed it into the trash before turning to his assistant. "Male, adult, healthy, Class A. Give him a Yellow Tag. Next one."

The assistant kept his head down as he recorded the notes. Behind the chair, another person raised a hand, expertly pressed an injection gun to the "patient's" neck, and pulled the trigger.

At once, the struggling person fell silent.

Then, amid shrill screams, another person was dragged in and tied to the chair.

"Female, elderly, failing health and short lifespan, Class C... White Tag. Next one."

"Female, young and beautiful, Class B+. Give her a Green Tag..."

"This one won't do. Drug use, Class C-..."

"This one won't do either. Scrap processing."

"Class B+, Red Tag... Class C-, White Tag... Class C, White Tag... Red Tag..."

"Next one!"

The injection gun's trigger was pulled again and again, operating like an assembly line. In the corridor, those who wailed or stared numbly were pushed one by one into the infirmary, then dragged out one after another and sent into different rooms.

Suddenly, cries and screams that made one's scalp prickle sounded out.

Then they abruptly stopped.

With a click, the opened door shut.

Only the cart creaked onward, fully loaded with sealed containers, leaving behind two intermittent bloody tracks across the floor... extending toward the cold