FROM: An Outsider

In a dystopian world, a protagonist grapples with their role in reorienting individuals to fit societal norms, revealing unsettling truths about their own past.

Here I will explain everything. Who they are, why they're called the insiders, why we’re outsiders. And how it all began. 

*tick* *tick* *tick*

The clock numbs my  ears. Tick after tick, it counts the seconds to the end. If it all ends. 

Tick after tick, it draws closer to its exhaustion. How odd that we don't find such a thing troublesome. However could you blame something that we created, faults and all? We are troublesome. Our creations, our lives, our simple existence in this world. Created flawed. Even fixed we are hardly of use, but to fix, and ruin, create, and destroy. 

We must tick away. Tick to tell the world we work. Tick just so we may count the days that bring us to our ends. 

Pulling on the coat each day is tiresome. Caring for the cold is tiresome. Why must we care of such troublesome things? 

The path to work is long. The tiresome coat has brought warmth the world lacks. This. This is why we must care of such tiresome things. The day to come stretches long in front of me. Words pass across my screen in blurs. Light sears across my corneas. The contrast of the white light and black text has burnt itself into my eyelids. Hours are spent fixing, organizing, filing. They pass without much acknowledgement.

My eyes squeeze shut as large red text flashes in my face. I have been assigned an insider file. I am to organize the procedures to reset the insider correctly, suit it with a Momma, and pass off the proper information so the Momma may do her job. 

I sift through the outsider profiles labeled “AT RISK” to find the matching code to the profile. 

As the ones who deal with the insider cases are outsider workers we are not given the name, image, or description of the new insider, it is to protect us from being at risk. It is uncommon to be assigned an insider case. There have been estimates that say the insider population is less than 200. I have been assigned 2. We are not granted the knowledge of whether someone has been inside before. We are not meant to speak of our pasts. You will never meet one you have known before. I suppose you could question how such a thing would work.

You are not meant to question.

Insider cases are regarded as the best work, IF one is lucky enough to receive the task of situating an insider case. These cases are considered best due to the fact that each case comes with a flow of new information that is widely regarded as unknown. The information is thrilling. As outsiders we do not know much, given an insider case you learn all about its life, why it's an insider, how it became one, and once the insider has been fixed the one who situated it’s case will receive a report of success. There are no failures. Not any that we are meant to know of. 

What a case, this insider is by far the youngest known to me. A twinge of heat races through my chest. I reach to cool it, pressing my palm firmly against my sternum until the feeling subsides. 

My eyes unfocus, why do we do this to them? They’re people right? We call them ‘it’ and ‘thing’ but they’re people. People. People like us. People like me. Children… Most insiders are children… 

My screen dims. I press the spacebar to light it back up. 

My mind has gone silent; the thoughts are gone; they may have never even been real.  

Are thoughts even considered real? We mess with the thoughts of the insiders so what's to say all of the outsiders are safe? Shut up. I'm the only one like this; maybe I’m supposed to be an insider.

I go back to the file, number 4485. Do all of us have numbers? Is it just those at risk? Those who forgot to tick? Even once?

You are not meant to question. Yet I still wonder.

This insider was born in an area that is considered dry and warm. In my briefing for insider cases it states: 

Goal of An Insider Case: 

Disorientation, with the expectation of a reorientation that proves to be beneficial to the behavioral and mental aspects of the insider, recreating a thing that is fit to be present in society. 

Outsider Involvement:

The unavoidable involvement of an outsider in an insider case may result in higher risk for the need of disorientation. 

Outsiders assigned insider cases are to create a shock to the insider by organizing the proper environment, assigning the proper Momma, and organizing the procedures for the proper removal of memories that may become conflicting in the reorientation of the insider.

This means I must choose an inside that will not trigger memories I have organized for removal. I sift through the insides that may suit the case, all of which have been filled or are awaiting retrieval. I pull out my briefing notes, sifting through the pages until I find one that reads:

In case of over-occupancy: 

When all suitable insides have been occupied the insider has the opportunity to be placed in a double occupancy residence. This case is only feasible when 2 insider cases are nearly identical and have met several conditions that permit it to be reoriented with another insider. 

To situate a double occupancy insider case, the outsider in charge must reach out to the head and request double occupancy by finding a duplicate insider who has already been assigned to a suitable  inside. 

On the very bottom of the drawer of at risk files lies a paper with a list of codes for the occupied insides. I slip it out and look for the matching codes, there's one, only a number off, it's an older insider but the files look similar enough. 4489. I open the request system and link the 2 files, explaining the relationship between the insiders and my reasoning. I submit it. What do I do now? I will not be assigned any further work until the insider case is fully situated. I am dismissed, I pull on the tiresome coat, I know it's needed. The world has no warmth to share, not for me. 

I walk out of my building to a crowd formed in my way. I know accidents are not meant to happen. Yet the pavement has a blotch on its surface. One who does not tick properly has bent upon the pavement and now stains its pure color dark with tears. 

A hiss carries through those flowing past 

“Insider… One who will be an insider. Shh do not speak of the ruined”

I stare, what a cold world. 

The person looks at me. Tears have carved paths down their skin, their eyes are wide, the striking blue captivates me. I can see the fear in their eyes. It looks painful, blood pools at their knees. Their elbows are dripping blood. Pieces of rock stick out of the wounds. 

The crowd has all but gone, save for a few stragglers late to the time. 

My knees bend unwillingly, I come to kneel in front of the person. Their eyes bore into mine. Cold strikes my face like a knife. Tears have begun to roll down my cheeks and freeze. 

Tears? Tears?! What a thing. Tears are not meant to happen and yet as I reach up to soothe my burning face my hand comes away glistening with salty tears. 

The person lunges for me, grabbing my shoulders and pulling my face close. 

“You”

He spits the word at me. I try to pull away but terror keeps me frozen in place. 

“yOU B***h”

My eyes go wide. He’s using old words, words that are hardly even known now. 

My hand shoots up to my temple, finding a small  bump. White flashes obscure my vision. The person shakes me. He starts yelling incoherently. I’m blinded by pain that spreads through my head emanating sharply from my temple. 

A guard dressed in gray comes up behind the man, he yanks us apart, throwing the man back against the pavement. Drops of blood splatter across my face. The pool of blood left behind crawls towards me. I stand, thank the man in gray and begin to walk home. 

I take the coat off as I walk, no longer grateful for its warmth. I want to feel the cold, I need it to keep me together, to keep me ticking.

The morning is bright, I’ve received a message instructing me to await approval from the head before returning to work. My mind is glazed over, my eyes dull. I lift my head to look in the mirror. The blood has dried brown on my face. I stare at myself, tracing my eyes over the curve of my jaw, the tilt of my brows, the sharp jut of my collar bone. I walk to the hall to grab a cloth. I wet it and raise it to my face to wipe away the stains. brown smears across my face, the white cloth is stained but I can't seem to mind it, it seems fitting. My eyes blur. What?

I sit at my table, an empty plate in front of me. I sit and sit and sit, waiting for no one, wishing for nothing. My hand reaches to my temple again, finding the small lump. I can't remember when it happened, I don't even know what it's from. It's about the size of the tip of my pinky, and star shaped. I seem to remember seeing the scar on one other person before but no matter how much I focus I can’t seem to remember them, or even their face. 

I find myself wandering back to my bed. I’ve never had this much time to myself. It makes me feel empty. My house is quiet and I hate it. 

I lay down. Allowing myself to zone out. 

Music played softly, I slouched into the plush cushions of the family room couch curled up with a book and some tea. I paused, hearing voices from the other room. Dad and mom arguing again. Brother plopped down beside me. He always came close when mom and dad argued. He smiled, placing his arm around me comfortably and pulling me in. I leaned against him, feeling the warmth spread through my chest as he started humming to the song. The world was far away, mom and dad arguing, the rain pattering against the window, the dog snoring at my feet… It all shattered when a scream came from the kitchen where mom and dad were. Brother stopped. He patted my shoulder and gave a half hearted smile that seemed more like a grimace. He turned and left to the kitchen. Shouts began to rise.

“YOU aren’t meant to be involved!” that was mom

“I didn’t ask to be part of this! You're supposed to be my mother! I shouldn’t have to stop him from hurting you! I shouldn't have to comfort her when YOU fight!” Brother…

“F**K YOU! I WISH YOU DIDNT F*****G EXIST! SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WAS MEANT TO BE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE! You’re just a f*****g piece of s**t, just a stain on our records… I should just be rid of you.” 

I rose and peeked through the entrance, brother glared at mom, and dad stared me down. His gaze was so cold it sent shivers down my back. 

“Dad?...” 

He glanced at mom 

“Just reset her, we'll send him off to disposal.”

Everything blurs. I jolt awake, confused and disoriented. The dream starts to fade fast. Something tugs at my mind. 

My phone goes off with a message from the head, my case has been approved. 

My return is hardly noticed. I finish the case, pairing the insiders in an unusual family home. If the situation becomes unstable… I worry about the stability of my livelihood. I wonder what happens to the organizer if a reorientation fails?

My wondering is against all that I have learnt of the unspoken rules. You are not meant to question, you are not meant to hold ill thoughts. None of it is meant to happen, none of what is happening has an answer, because no one has dared to ask. 

I have returned to my work, returned to my life, mundane as it is. I know. I don’t tick anymore. My clock sings a different tune. 

*tick* *tick* *tick tock* *tick tock*

Oh how wonderful it would be to let myself go, my thoughts pile up and up and up. Continuously dragging on and on and on, I must methodically pass through the motions assigned to me. I’m sick of these gray buildings, the cold sky, the cold people, the lifeless world. Dragging along each of its participants, Bumping us along, letting us shatter across the ground making us useless and broken. Thoughts take over, engulf me; and I let them. 

Insiders are the ones who can’t handle it. A deranged laugh escapes my lips.

Ohhh how sad… They break, stop ticking, a clock that does not tick is not a useful clock at all. Tick tick tic* oops you missed it, how sad, you're useless now. It’s ok, you have a second chance you’ll be assigned to an outsider, you’ll be the reason they break, maybe you’ll be the reason they finally snap out of that f*****g daze everyone’s in. They’ll be like me! HA! Notice that they’re wrong! Maiming children because they’re suffering! Oh mY GoD iT’s FUn! But don’t worry! You’ll be reset so we can all forget that you didn’t tick. You’ll be reset so that you can be used again, the world needs you you know. Now that outsider who fixed you? Tick tick tick oops what was that? Are they tired? They don’t want to tick anymore? HAH! That sucks. Well now they can suffer the same fate as you. But no, no it's not suffering. It's a good thing! You’ll have a loving family home! That is… As long as it works on you! You won't remember it but who cares about that? As long as you go along with it all you can get out! Forget it all! Become a puppet! Doing all the things that no one wants too! 

My head lolls back over my office chair. The lights are off, the room empty. My face is underlit by my screen, cursor blinking on a blank white page. 

I laugh. 

“OH GOD! How fun!”

My words echo through the empty space. I close my mouth, my face drops. I go to the community closet and pick up my coat. I don't put it on, instead slinging it over my arm and walking out of the room, leaving it unlocked. 

The sky is dark, I haven't bothered to look at the time. A strange unsettling calm has washed over me. The cold stings my bare arms as I walk. I take a different path home, winding through the dark side streets and chilly alleyways. Figures crouch against walls, some turn to watch me pass, others trail after me with a yellowed toothy grin. They all drop off as I exit into a liberally lit street. The lights are fluorescent, almost painful in comparison to the dull flickering orange of the alleyways. I fumble with the door until it swings open silently. I throw my coat on the ground and kick my boots off on top of it. I strip to my underclothes and toss myself on my bed, cranking up the AC and throwing the covers over my bare body. 

I lay there in the dark for hours, my mind numb. 

A knock sounds at the door. I ignore it, closing my eyes and turning away. Another knock. Ignored. Then they start pounding, I rip off the sheets and throw on my clothes from earlier. I fling my door open angrily.

“Yes..?” 

A woman dressed in formal attire stands in the doorway.

“Hello 8423. You have been requested to join us in the dome tomorrow evening after the completion of your work.” She says it in such a chipper tone I almost think I'm being invited to a party. She smiles. An eerie smile, perfect in every way. 

“R-right.” I close the door in her face, stumbling back. I find my bed and sit on the edge. I sit there staring into the darkness. Apparently we do all have numbers, either that or I’ve been found as at risk. 

“Well s**t”

I fall back into my bed. It's not everyday you get a former momma knocking at your door. Not only was it a late night notification, but it was a direct request, too important to be sent via message. What on earth will I do? What do they want? 

My night is sleepless, filled with numb thoughts. 

I’m at work. How did I get here? I must have walked, so engulfed in my thoughts that nothing registered. I'm sitting in the dark again, unnoticed, the last of the outsiders complete their work and return home and I sit and watch. I’ve done about none of my work. I suppose I could stall my demise with the excuse of excess work. What's the point… I’ve never been to the dome. True to its name, a large semi circle laid into a field, surrounded by tall gray buildings, my building is lined up with the massive glass doors that lead into the dome. I’ve decided to leave my coat all together today. The warmth leaves quickly and cold seeps to my bones. I come to stand in front of the massive doors. I stand there alone, feeling small. My thoughts have become my coat. I’m so small in this world, so worthless, yet here I stand in front of the government building having been personally requested by a government official. I jump back as one of the massive doors swing open behind me. 

“Good afternoon” The same woman as before. 

“I will be your guide for today. Please follow me.”

She turns on her heel and begins to walk into the darkness, I hesitate a moment before trailing behind her. The door clicks shut behind me. The woman keeps walking, not bothering to look back. We walk in the dark for a minute, then another click sounds and a light comes on over head. We’re in a hallway, identical doors line each wall. She stops in front of one. 

“When you enter please take a seat in the gray chair. Do not get up once you have sat down, do not touch anything, do not attempt to move the seat. Walk in and sit, that is all.” Her voice is monotone, her face emotionless. I nod. The door swings open, the room is a black pit. I turn to her, but she’s gone. I take a step into the room. A light comes on. The walls are lined with dark bookshelves, a glass chandelier hangs over a grand oak desk that is littered with papers. I pad across the carpeted floors to the lone gray chair. I sit, my thoughts have finally quieted leaving the room stiflingly silent. I reach to sift through the papers on the desk, stopping when I remember the woman’s words. ‘Do not touch anything’ Should I listen? Why? She didn’t say, I didn't ask… Sure, why not? I’ve followed all the other things they've demanded. I pick up a paper lying face down in front of me. My eyes scan over the scribbles. I can hardly understand it. It's titled with a date:

2 3/ 0 9 

September? No year. How strange. The rest of it is barely legible, I scan over it again, catching things here and there. 

Fixing, Past.,Mistakes, Worthless. Innovative, Success rate, Procedure, Alteration.

I hear shuffling at the door and fling the paper down, losing sight of it amongst other papers filled with scribbled words. Someone enters behind me, I do not turn to see them. My eyes are focused on my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. A man comes into my view. He pulls out a large brown chair that I somehow had not seen before. 

I’ve gone crazy already.

The man sits across from me. 

“Hello” he has a warm voice, almost welcoming. I sat frozen. 

My jaw clenches as tears well in my eyes. 

“Dad?” 

I look up. Oh. Oh no. I can’t face him. Anger strikes me like a hot knife and I lunge across the desk at him. I stare into his eyes. His old, empty, cold eyes. My anger subsides into sobs. Staring at his emotionless face knowing that he kept that face while knocking me out and erasing my memory. He kept that face while sending brother off to be killed, while beating mom to death. He reaches up and traces his finger along my scar. I turn away and slump into my seat. 

“No matter how much you want to yell at me you must know that I tried to regret all of it. It was too long ago, I do not know how you remember but that’s why you're here.” 

I hate his voice. It’s a voice that does not belong to his face. A warm and welcoming voice paired with a chilly and impassive person. 

“We were the last, right? I met someone. A man. You know. He swore at me. Called me what you called mom… Words that no one knows anymore.”

He drags a hand down his face. 

“Haaa, yes. Some are not caught before they fall apart.” I shiver, more tears racing down my face. 

“People fear such things now dear. I assume you have seen. Their minds do not work properly, you may remember it as a mental illness.” He scoffs.

“It's disgusting, those things living beside the outsiders. We have to catch them otherwise our world will fall apart. There used to be murders, humans against humans.” He shakes his head. 

“It's a sad reality that we had to fix.” he looks at me, waiting for my reaction. 

“Yeah…” I stare back. “Yeah… So we build them up in caves and crevices and turn them into puppets. Perfect… Perfect for our world's workings. Human against human right? Why do we think that so wrong? Human against human is against the humanity of our existence? We needed to fix it? Here you go! A world without a shred of humanity left. It’s broken so why not get rid of it all together?”

“Dear…”

Dad 

“Dad.”

Let me see it. What bullshit are you going to spill now?

His face hardens.

“8423… you have been found as an insider. Given your previous insider involvement you have been deemed unworthy of a second chance. However due to the 2 previous insider cases you have situated and the work you have done for the head it is not under our jurisdiction to oversee your case.”

A smile creeps onto my face, wide and ugly. 

“My name… I was one of the last people involved in those family reset cases so I have a name. He did too. Brother… The one you killed? And so did mom, didn't she? Those idiots took away our names so they didn’t have to feel like they were torturing humans. Hi dad. Ohhhhh hi. You know me. You know my name. Oh my dear sweet daughter… [REDACTED]” 

He stands. And walks out the door. I close my eyes begging for the thoughts to engulf me before the people come with their restraints or syringes, I don't know at this point what they want from me, what they will do to me. I’ll gladly welcome death. Drape it over my mind, a heavy blanket that finally shields me from the cold. I don’t know what I’d do if they didn't kill me, sob? Bury myself in my thoughts until it all goes numb? Maybe. 

*tick* *tick* *tick*

I know it's in my head but it numbs my ears. I’m so tired. I remember happy. Maybe if I sleep for a long time I’ll have a dream where happy exists again.

Author's Note

The story was written on a very short timeline so please excuse the fast pace and open ending, I am hoping to expand the story in the future. I would like feedback on the overall clarity of the story and how well it flows (and of course anything else).