Subjectivity V2: Chapter 2

“Subject 17135244, step forward,” the disembodied, disinterested voice sounded from somewhere beyond Roe’s sight. He stood in the doorway of a blank, white room. Floors, walls and ceiling were colourless and it was empty, save a simple table and two chairs facing one another in the centre. On the far wall was another door, though it was closed.

Roe Speremus, officially known to the state as Subject 17135244, did as he was bid and stepped forward. “Sit, Subject 17135244,” the voice sounded again. He could now see the speakers in the ceiling that ferried the unknown speaker’s commands.

The room was silent, save for the rustling of his ill-fitting trousers and scratchy shirt whose buttons rubbed at his collarbone. On his feet were laceless shoes and on his wrist a simple band. Predictably, all of it was as white as the room around him. ‘It is a clean colour,’ he mused, ‘but it is lacking in that which conveys heart. Typical.’

He took a seat, mindful of his short, blond hair that had fallen out of place on his head. The neat part that he had styled for as long as he remembered was as much a part of him as his very skin: it was familiar and comfortable, yet stagnant and dull. ‘My hair personifies my life,’ he thought to himself wryly.

His piercing blue gaze snapped forward, and a mature woman steps into the room. Her figure is slightly round and her heels are clearly hurting her, but her impassive façade is an impressive shield of all her displeasure. She wore black slacks, a white blouse with lace down the centre and a lab coat over it all. On her coat she had a few buttons pinned to her lapel which read “NELO’s Nemo,” as well as other jokes Roe did not understand.

She had tanned skin and sun-bleached hair – Roe surmised he liked to sunbathe. Her skin reminded him of a girl he had met years ago, one of the few who had dared to approach him over the years. Yet the kindness in her eyes that he remembered was not present in the woman before him. This one in the present took a seat and took from the confines of her lab coat a six by eight inch clipboard out.

She flipped a few pages over the top and studied the information before her. “Age: twenty… That’s three years older than the limit. Class 4? Interesting… Your metrics check out, though your social development index is very low…” She looked up from the information she read to herself.”

“Subject,” she began with the dehumanising word NELO adored, “You are not exactly our best product. Only three families have ever tried to adopt you and upon meeting you they retracted their applications. You consistently score at the top of your classes in, well, everything other than any sort of participation-based activity…” She trailed off, flipping a few more pages before setting the clipboard down.

Folding her arms under her bosom, she stared at him, clearly in thought. Roe stared back. He did not know this woman, and did not want to, but knew her type well. She is a Keeper, and one of those who decide if and when a Subject leaves NELO for the real world. “Your Mother has issued a strong endorsement for your release into the Neo-Palmyra University as a student with full tuition coverage. That would be a large investment on our part, Subject. Tell me: why should we make that investment?”

The door behind him shuts quietly, and he is left alone in the room with this unpleasant woman. “I am a Class 4 Subject who has had fifty-eight quality reviews in twenty years. I have never had a family get past the first stage of adoption. I am obviously not fit for a family setting.” The woman’s eyebrow rose, evidently uncomfortable with him speaking so much.

“Thus I will remain a strain on NELO’s financial assets,” he explained, “And that would continue in perpetuity until my death. That is not good business for NELO and it is not what I would… desire.” The final word felt awkward: he never spoke of what he wanted in life because in truth he did not know what he wanted beyond freedom from the endless expanse of white rooms and manicured greenspaces.

The woman before him leaned back in her chair, her brows knit in thought as she considered his words. ‘She never thought of it like that,’ Roe thought to himself, ‘she was so set in her way of thwarting whatever she thought I wanted that she never realised I am a waste of money.’ He could almost smirk in triumph, but years of both externally- and self-induced emotional repression bested any such display. Instead he sat expressionless, staring back at her.

“You are a very smart young man,” she admitted carefully, “Very smart.” Falling silent again, she looked down at her clipboard, “The tuition at the NPU is not cheap. If you start rocking the boat or your grades are not indicative of the academic success you have had here, your financial support courtesy of NELO will be dropped.” Her gaze had wandered as she spoke, evidently disinterested with the situation, but as she concluded her sentence her eyes snapped back, “Mr. Laevan –“

“Would not be pleased if his investment is a failure, I know.” Roe spoke coolly, though his verbal combatant only chuckled lightly before nodding. “Thank you for the faith you have put in me. I will represent well the academic excellence that NELO has imparted upon me.” Keeping his diction at a refined level was critical, the Subject found, to retaining and social license in conversations he had with Keepers. They looked for flaw and he had long since perfected a means of hiding any such things.

The woman rose to her feet, and Roe followed suit. “Subject 17135244, for NELO’s sake I hope we do not meet again in these walls. You will be issued a Pacific Union passport with the name “Roe Speremus,” as well as your creation date. Please present yourself to the distributions office in the Administration Building before 6:00pm for processing. You should be able to leave in time for the beginning of the semester.”

As she turned to leave, Roe extended a slender, pale hand. “Ma’am,” he said respectfully. She turned, an eyebrow raised, before looking down at his offered hand.

The woman clasped it, a small smile coming to her lips, “My name is Michelle,” she said and shook his hand. Letting it go, she nodded at him, “Good luck… Roe.” He nodded back, but said nothing as she left, for he was too lost in his own thoughts. ‘I brought some humanity out of a Keeper… Maybe their classification system is a bit too simplistic.’

The door behind him opened, though he could not hear anyone’s footsteps indicating they had opened it. Roe turned and exited the room, still lost in his own thoughts about how a thing as inhuman as he could bring out the humanity in a Keeper.

~*~

NELO itself is a city unto itself, with shops, malls, hospitals, roads and schools all inside its distant, high walls. Much of the staff live ‘on campus’ and rarely leave the compound. However they are free to do just that, while Subjects are not. Subjects are not legally people and thus are not subject to the right to mobility. ‘We are their prized product, and like a fine wine or expensive jewelry, they will not so easily part with us.’

Roe walked down one of many similar looking corridors in the Administration Building, the central hub of Subject-related management. On one of the higher floors was Mother’s office as well as many other parental figures for Subjects. Generally, however, it was understood that Mother’s place was above all others. She was, after all, a co-founder.

He had avoided entering through the lobby, and instead used a walk-way from the hospital on the tenth floor. Instead of a busy, crowded area full of tourists, employees and soon-to-be adopted children, he was graced with the company of closed office doors and the occasional open space filled with cubicles or bench-like setups for people to work at. Regardless of the scenery, they all ignored him as they would with any Subject.

‘White clothes, and critically the white band on the wrist, were indicative of product, not person’ Roe mused, ‘and one must not play too much with the product.’ He recalled eavesdropping on two Keepers discussing the stance they were to take on Subjects: they are to be as much blank slates as possible, so that they may acclimate to their eventual family’s environment in a quick and efficient manner. Any early maternal needs as babies and small children could simply be substituted with the paternal figures, but they would be naturally removed from the life of the child. When they joined a family, they would latch on to that parent.

Or at least, that was the hope. Many Subjects in the early years apparently had serious psychological deformities because of their odd upbringing – human nature, after all, dictates sociability and to deprive children of parents was tricky. ‘I for one am glad I don’t have parents, Mother is all I need,’ the Subject thought to himself as he bypassed another set of cubicles and made his way toward a set of elevators.

Following roughly a minute wait, the doors parted and allowed Roe entry. It was empty, something he appreciated greatly. After pressing the ‘15’ button, he felt the elevator lift up below him smoothly. The silver doors acted like a mirror, displaying his pale, slim person. His eyes were bright and, according to others, filled with wisdom. The cool azure hues stared back at Roe, taunting him with a humanity he did not know he had.

The stare-off ended and the doors opened, displaying, a humble lobby. Large block letters spelt out “Distribution” and he approached the receptionist. The young man, likely no older than he, looked up. He wore a short-sleeve pale blue dress shirt which revealed a slightly off-coloured line on the inside of his forearm. Another would not have noticed it, but when meeting strangers, Roe always looked for the Barcode.

In reality the skin-coloured tattoo was not a barcode and instead a means of locating the chip that held information about the Subject to health authorities and the like. Roe remembered being told as a child by another Subject that there was another in his head, but he doubted that – conspiracies are just childish.

The receptionist looked up, “Number?” He asked, failing to sound earnestly pleasant. Reciting his number in a monotone voice, Roe watched the man input the ID that defined the Subject and his file open. The slight widening of the receptionist’s eyes amused him, ‘I wonder what it says…’

A minute went on with silence, save for the gentle hum of the air circulation system. Behind the desk was a set of windows looking south. Roe could see the high walls that entrapped Subjects, as white and cold as the institution, and personifying the feeling of captivity that had pervaded his entire life.

‘Perhaps it is different for the other Subjects… Those who are adopted.’ Most Subjects are adopted – the rate, as Roe recalled, was 99.5%, while 0.5% were either disposed of or released into the public at a later date, like he was. ‘How many times was I almost recycled?’

“Alright, looks like you’re good to go,” the receptionist broke him out of his thoughts, “Just go down the hall on the right, and go into the first door on your right. I think they’ve set it all up already.” Roe said nothing, and simply nodded, not feeling the desire to speak.

He turned and made his way perpendicular to the receptionist desk, toward the closed door. A familiar sense of urgency overcame Roe as he closed the distance between himself and the unseen room. He felt his pupils dilate for a moment, then his fingers flex by his sides. His muscles became alert and his mind was suddenly hyperaware of the hushed whispers from inside.

He places his hand on the door, and with a casualness beguiling his extremely alarmed mind, opened it. Inside was a large, crane-like structure looming over a stainless steel pad, sat about three feet off the ground. There were no windows or indeed any other devices in the room. The ascetic Subject knew two individuals were now flanking him, having hide beside the doorframe.

Pretending to not notice them, he stepped forward into the room, feigning confusion with a worried glance around. Were they in front of him, they would see his face was an impassive mask, with two glittering azure jewels that exuded analytical dominance.

One of the figures closed the door, while the swept forward, going to grab Roe by the wrist. As his appendage was grabbed, Roe stepped to the other side, grasping the man’s own wrist. He was a portly man looking to be in his early forties; small specs of grey peppering his brown hair. He was shorter than Roe; something the Subject used to his advantage.

He pried the man off his wrist and began to bend his hand backward after repositioning his own, “Why are you attacking me?” He asked with unsettling calm.

“Phil! Get this freak off me!” The man shouted, buckling to the floor as his wrist was forced into even more uncomfortable angles. “Now, Phil!”

The other man went to hold Roe by the throat with his arm, though Roe side-stepped him, dragging the other Keeper with him, “I asked you a question.” His voice was still perfectly polite, “Tell me what you want and if it does not harm me I will comply.”

“We need…” The man on the ground cried out in pain as his wrist was pushed beyond 100 degrees, “We need to implant you with a tracker! It’s policy for all Class Nines!” With that, Roe released him and felt his throat tighten as the man named Phil held him in a choke hold. Unable to speak, he locked eyes with the man now clutching his sprained wrist, and nodded.

“Phil, let the freak go, and let’s get this done with,” he said as he stood up, still clutching his wrist.

Phil complied, and released the Subject who spoke gruffly, “on the table.” Phil appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties; most of his hair had gone grey or white and crows-feet were evident on his face. His dark eyes were alive with anger and mistrust of the Subject who had surprisingly fended him off with such ease while crippling his fellow employee.

Roe sat himself on the table, only to find the unnamed man roughly push him down and pin him on his stomach. “Sit still, kid, this’ll hurt a lot more if you don’t,” Phil warned as whirring was heard overhead. A shadow moved over the Subject’s vision and the machinery sound louder as it grew ever closer to him.

A piercing jab, much akin to a needle, rammed into his neck, just above the collarbones, and for a moment left him completely numb from the neck down. Panic exploded in Roe’s body at that point, but faded with the return of his movement.

“Good, Phil let’s get the hell out of here,” the first man said, and though he received no reply, the hurried shuffle of two sets of feet abruptly ended with the slamming of a door.

Roe waited for a minute before rising to a seated position, gently prodding at the swollen wound on the base of his neck. He rubbed and winced as a sharp pain needled the surrounding area. It felt… unnatural, but such was his lot in life, he surmised.

No one entered the room for the next ten minutes, all of which he spent seated on the cold metal slab. The crane-like device had returned to its dormant phase, which the Subject turned his attention to, noting the smearing of his blood upon it tip.

In his periphery, Roe could see a white duffel bag slumped into the corner next to the door. Written upon it was his number, 17135244. He pushed himself to his feet, and felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. Stumbling forward, he caught himself on the nearby wall. Bile rose in his throat and his face felt hot. His limbs trembled as he struggled to hold himself up.

Roe took deep, steadying breaths, using all his willpower not to vomit and show weakness. After a few long, tense minutes, he was able to stand on his own. The room swam before him, but he could tell the effect was waning quickly. Be it because of his unique childhood or because of his mental fortitude, he was able to make his way to the duffel bag without using the wall to balance himself.

Grasping its handles, he opened it and found changes of identical clothing to that in which he was adorned, as well as sizely sum of money in a blank envelope, demarcated “spending.” As well there were basic toiletries such as a toothbrush and a comb, but nothing in the way of personal effects; he did not have any.

Closing the bag and holding it in his left hand, he went to leave the room and found the door unlocked. Opening it, he found the receptionist looking down at a ring of roughly ten keys. The man seemed surprised and confused, “It wasn’t locked? Alright.” He turned and made his way to his desk, “You’re free to go; discharge is in the main lobby. I think you have someone waiting for you.” The receptionist, still sounding entirely bored, made a small, awkward sound as Roe walked by him and toward the entrance of the Distribution office.

Roe turned, and found the receptionist, looking remarkably young and small behind the stale desk, mouth parted as he formed words. After a brief moment, he closed his mouth before speaking: “… Sorry for how Phil and George acted.”

The Subject inclined his head, but offered no fake smile. “Thank you,” were his only words, but were spoken surprisingly gently.

The receptionist stared at the strange Subject for a long time, before smiling such a slight smile only one as perceptive as Roe could see the twitch in muscles on his face. “Good luck, Roe.”

Roe once more bowed his head in respect to the man, “Thank you again, and good luck to you, sir.” The receptionist smirked at being called sir before sitting down, a small smile on his face. The Subject spared no more time and exited the office.

~*~

Roe looked over the expansive lobby of the Administration Building. It was four stories tall, with a huge wall of uninterrupted glass letting in sunlight and the warmth of the tropical climate in. Countless smaller desks and kiosks, all uniformly named, were peppered around the lobby, with one central zone comprised of four quarter-circle desks, spaced evenly apart. In the centre was a small hub, covered in printers, monitors, terminals and more. Above this hub was a sign: “ADMINISTRATION.”

Surmising that was as good a place as any to go, he started off there, but stopped almost immediately when he heard the sound of familiar heels clacking on the marble floor. “Roe!” A feminine voice called out. He looked right and found a woman, looking to be in her forties, quickly approaching him. She had long, wavy blonde hair that bobbed to and fro at the small of her back. She wore a white lab coat over a lavender blouse and a black pencil skirt which ended just above the knees. Her bright blue eyes were accentuated by makeup seemingly expertly put on.

“Mother,” Roe acknowledged her, a foreign warmth in the word; a kind of reverence he held for no one else. She stood before him, and he could remember when she seemed so tall, looming over his child form. Now they stood eye to eye, so similar in features, yet so different in person. “I am to be released today; to attend the Neo-Palmyra University… But I assume you are already aware of this?”

She nodded and folded her hands before her, a subtle pink nail polish matching her lipstick glinting in the sunlight for a moment. “Of course I heard! I am your mother – and I am a very proud mother today. My little Roe is all grown up and leaving home.” She spoke cheerily, but there was sadness in her voice. The woman he commanded NELO seemed so moved by the idea of him leaving that Roe was left speechless for a moment.

“Mother, this place… has not been ideal,” the Subject explained as delicately as he could. “This is for the best.”

Natalie Bellerose, or Mother, to Roe, was one of the highest ranking executives at NELO, but also acted as a maternal figure to many Subjects. “I know you can never forgive me for the horrible things that have happened while you were growing up here,” she began, her eyes never leaving his. She impulsively reached out, grasping his hands in her own, and held them loosely, though occasionally gave his fingers a light squeeze.

“My dear baby boy, please don’t be afraid to grow and change when you leave. When you meet people, try to be as emotionally honest as you can,” she looked down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up, “don’t let your heart be closed off by bitterness.”

Roe looked off to the side in thought before returning his gaze to Natalie, who had never wavered in searching his soul. He found her to be the most perceptive person he had ever meet; always capable of reading him. “I will do my best to…” He paused for a moment, but decided to go with his initial thought, “… to be more human.”

Her arms were immediately around him, and he felt himself being cradled into her bosom like a small child. “You have and will always be human; no matter how you born and what others classify you as, you are human and deserve respect,” she let him go and spoke again: “Promise me you will never let anyone take away your dignity as a human being, Roe. You have suffered too much to let that happen.”

“Mother, I… I will make you proud,” he finally answered after an agonising pause.

She smiled and placed a maternal kiss on his forehead, “Then my dear boy, go into the world and be happy. We will meet again, sooner than you think.”

“Goodbye, Mother. I will miss you.” His words were quiet and simple, but the love that was in them for the only person who had ever unconditionally cared for him was so profound that the woman before him had tears well up in her eyes.

She embraced him again, and held him tight for a long time. As she let go, she whispered quietly, “Go, my dear boy, go.”

Roe, feeling a strange, choking feeling in his throat, turned and made his way to the exit, spotting a Keeper motioning for him to come with him in a nearby car. As he exited the building, he noticed that he was outside the walls.

Here outside the NELO walls, Roe saw that everything was not white. It was, however, certainly beautiful.