Science Fiction Story

Lyndon Porter sat in his office overlooking the entire field.  The lights blinking, the motors humming, it was what he enjoyed more than anything.  He gazed down into the bicycling arena, where the real power was managed.  He looked to the production meter; it was only about half full, which was not nearly the normal production by 1800.  But that was to be expected, as the entire graduating class of 2157 had the day off today for their ceremony.

Lyndon had seen many classes coming and going, each with many difficult decisions to make.  He had to decide which graduates would be integrated into society, and which would be "transferred," as they liked to call it.  The term allowed for ignorant people to choose ignorance, but everyone knew where nearly 90% of students went.  Modern society couldn't sustain the luxuries of the entire population, so the clear answer was to eliminate the majority of them.  And while it was a bit of a gruesome tradition, it managed to kill two birds with one stone, as troublesome field workers could be easily eradicated.  This is why the government didn't care if people knew where transfers really went, or even wanted them to know.  It instilled fear into the field workers, and encouraged good, cooperative behavior.

There was one worker, however, that Lyndon would be reluctant to transfer: his son Aaron.  Lyndon had pushed endlessly to try to save his fate, but tragically, the board wouldn't allow it.  Aaron had always been a bit of a revolutionary, the kind of citizen they didn't want influencing society.  Lyndon had always been so hopeful of his son, that some day he would realize how great he had it in the field, that the field was life before pain, before loss.

As he gazed upon the field, watching the slaving, tiring workers, he remembered the days when he was one of them.  He thought of how lucky these young men and women were, to be able to look ahead to a bright future of luxury and prosperity, and to imagine that their work was contributing to it constantly.  Every memory he had was in this place, and he couldn't seem to let go of a single one.  He remembered hiding in the bathroom with his friends before lockdown and secretly roaming the facility all night.  He remembered weeks where he wouldn't stop laughing during a meal.  He remembered the days when he would look forward to spending the rest of his life with his friends, with his sister, with his wife.

A sharp pain seared his head and he looked away, towards the cages.  Lying in the cages were something, and the only thing, that even the most powerful man in the field feared.  To the field workers, they were simply known as snakes because of the way they moved along the floor, and that was how Lyndon always thought of them.  Biologically speaking, however, they were so much more than snakes.  They were a government developed species designed to tear human flesh to shreds.  They were a cross-breeding of a piranha and Komodo Dragon.

What was possibly their greatest weakness was also what Lyndon loved most about them.  These snakes, which were really more like enormous, vicious lizards, required a constant flow of water to each of their six appendages and their mouths.  They would last for a few hours without this, but after that they would grow weak and collapse.

What Lyndon loved about this was the irony.  The energy created by the field workers pumped enough water up to the snakes to keep them going, and also powered every security measure to keep them locked down.  They were supplying their own prison by powering it every second of their lives.  Without the snakes, the security guards wouldn't be able to contain all of the field workers, there were simply too many.

As Lyndon continued to span the room, he began to feel uneasy.  He noticed there were far fewer snakes on guard than normal.  He quickly attributed this to the shortage that occurred every year around the time of graduation.  There would be a sudden drop off in energy due to less workers, so they made energy cuts in the field, which meant less snake cages available.  The day of graduation, however, required even more snakes at the ceremony, which meant less at the field.  It always made Lyndon nervous, as he found a sense of security with the snakes.  He felt that with a powerful, ferocious outside force such as them, it was ridiculous for humans to even consider fighting among each other.

Lyndon listened, and noticed the constant hum of the field had ceased.  He quickly turned towards the workers and realized every worker had gotten off of their machines and began to stare down the guards.  As the guards began to approach them, they stood their ground.  A guard began screaming at a certain worker and began to engage him, and although the worker tried to fight back, he was quickly brought down by the sharp electrocution of his nightstick.  Soon each guard followed, going around attempting to bring down workers one by one.  As with the first, each worker would only begin to fight back when he was attacked, and most didn't stand much of a chance.

Lyndon was confused, this didn't seem like the average revolt that he had seen so many times.  It seemed weak, pointless.  Suddenly he heard a roar, and through the doors came every single graduate, wielding bare fists and an intense rage.  The other workers began to erupt with them, and soon there was revolt coming at the guards from every angle.  The cages opened up and the snakes began to crawl out, but there were only about twenty to the thousands of workers engaging in a full-scale rebellion.  Bodies began flying everywhere, of workers, guards, and snakes.

As Lyndon gazed upon the action, falling into complete shock of what he was seeing, he heard a buzz come from the other direction.  The light above his doorway turned green; it had been unlocked, and he was now in grave danger.  He thought of where he could go.  There was just the one door.  He considered breaking the glass and jumping, but if the fall didn't kill him, he'd be jumping into the greatest and bloodiest revolt he had ever seen.

Just then, as he thought about leaving the door where his attacker would certainly be entering, it opened up, and in marched his son, Aaron Porter.  Wearing his graduation suit in which he was sure  be executed in later that evening, he walked in with an anger in his eyes that had been building up under years of work and oppression.  He charged at his father, wielding a blunt, rusty, but deadly knife.

Lyndon stood motionless.  He thought of every possible way he possessed to fight back.  There was a gun under his chair, another under his desk.  There was tear gas in the ceiling that could be released at the touch of a button.  He could even overpower his son after years of defense training, and most likely turn the knife back onto him.  But as he looked into his son's eyes, he saw the same eyes that he had for the first 30 years of his life, the ones he had hoped he would see until he had died.  Aaron had his mother's eyes from the day he was born.  It froze Lyndon, he could move an inch.  And as he stood there gazing into the terrifying eyes of the greatest love of his life that was stolen away from him, the knife was plunged into his chest, and he fell to the floor, dead.