| Fantasy Fiction posted September 10, 2022 | Chapters: |
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A sci-fi mystery thriller in a futuristic world.
A chapter in the book Implantation
Shattered Illusion
by Douglas Goff
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
Number Eight finished and climbed off Number Seven, making his way to the shower. It was the same every morning. A chime woke them. They had sex, they showered, then they headed to breakfast. This was followed by work. Day in and day out they performed the same ritual for as long as Number Eight could remember.
Their home module was one room. Bedroom, shower, and toilet all shared the same open space. Although sparse, it was roomy and comfortable enough, besides, it was all that he had ever known.
Number Seven sat on the edge of their bed and stared at him, waiting for her turn to use the shower. She was over a foot shorter than him, and was slightly over-weight, with short black-hair. She wasn't particular attractive, and looked a bit "frumpy", but she was his partner and he had no complaints.
Number Eight reached in and turned on the shower, stepping in a moment later. He had accidentally turned it all the way to the hot position, and it burnt him. He didn't get out, he just stood there, because he felt something. It wasn't the intense heat, the steaming water was bearable, but the feeling of different. Something different from their mundane, routine existence.
After Number Eight turned off the shower, he went over to the large mirror beside the nearby sink and began to dry off. He observed his muscular toned frame in the mirror. He stood six foot tall and weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds. His short hair was light brown and his eyes were blue.
When he raised his right arm to dry beneath it, his gaze caught sight of something just below his armpit, on his side. The scorching hot water had turned his skin red, but white markings had raised up against the red. When Number Eight leaned in closer to the mirror, he could see that it was writing.
He stared hard at the image that was now fading as his skin cooled. There was a series of nine numbers, followed by six more below those. Below that was O+. Underneath that was the word Protestant. That was interesting, but what really caught his eye was the top three words, Daniel Allen Taylor. Then they were gone, his skin returning to its pre-heat burn color.
Number Eight turned to tell Number Seven, but she had already entered the shower. It would be hard for her to hear him, besides, the images were gone. What were they? What could they possibly mean? He pondered these questions while he and his partner dressed in their brown work shirts and pants. Once they heard the breakfast chime, they slipped on their canvas shoes and headed out to breakfast.
The dining module was full, with all of the other pod members present. There were six couples residing at the orchard pod, each living in a home module that exactly matched their own. Number Seven and Number Eight went over to the drink dispenser and after pushing a button, received a large glass of breakfast.
The dining module had three square tables with four chairs each, providing the exact amount of seats for each member of the pod. Number Seven and Eight made their way over to the only two available chairs, and sat across from Number Five and Number Six.
Number Five was a stunning young redhead, with intense blue eyes, and a curvaceous body. Number Eight barely noticed her, hoping to get a chance to speak with her partner. Number Six was a middle-aged balding man with slightly greying hair. He was lanky, but otherwise fairly unremarkable.
Number Eight couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen under his arm that morning, and wanted to talk about it, so said to Number Six, "Hey, I saw something this morning."
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven interrupted him, drinking from her own glass.
Number Eight gave her a small smile and swallowed down the thick white substance. It tasted like a fruity shake, with a slight tartness to it. They had the same thing every breakfast, and that was the only meal of the day. It took him two attempts to finish off the drink. He looked over at Number Six, wanting to speak with him, but the memory of what he wanted to talk about had faded away, along with most of his other thoughts.
The third chime signaled that it was work time. When they made their way to the apple orchard, they had to pass the command module. They rarely went in there, just when they were sick, and for check-ups. Walking by it usually gave Number Eight a bad feeling, but he had no idea why.
Standing outside the door were always a pair of overseers. They flanked both sides of the entrance, like silent sentinels. These two never spoke, just stood there, guarding. They wore black hard suits, almost like armor, with matching black helmets. The face shields were mirrored, failing to reveal what was hidden within the helmet.
On their chests was a circle made of red light. It was about the size of an egg, but round. When the overseer in the command module examined you, the lighted circle always turned from red to green. The overseers had never harmed him, but he still didn't like being around them. They made him feel uneasy.
The twelve pod dwellers entered the apple grove and began pruning and watering the five-hundred tree grove. Eight hours later, the fourth chime would sound, signaling the end of the workday. A fifth chime would tell them that it was time to sleep. Every day, five chimes. They signaled wake up, breakfast, work, end of work, and sleep. Day in and day out.
The following day, Number Eight awoke with a start. He had been having the dream again. Flashing lights, large explosions, and popping sounds surrounded him while he ran across a grassy field. Bodies lay everywhere. The dream was smoky confusion. He used to have it all the time, but then it had faded off. This was the first time that he had the dream in a long time.
A moment later, the first chime sounded. Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. He finished a few minutes later, and climbed off her and headed for the shower, following his mind-numbing daily routine. When he reached for the shower handle, he froze, a memory exploding upon him.
The images of the marks under his arm came flooding back into his mind. How had he forgotten them in the first place? Were they real? Were they a dream? Number Eight was very confused. He reached into the shower and turned it all the way to hot.
After stepping in for a moment, he climbed back out and rushed over to the mirror. Upon lifting his arm, he saw the clear markings again. Number Eight stared at them until they faded away. 'Daniel Allen Taylor' was clearly there. He hadn't been dreaming.
Then he was. Flashes, bangs, and screams came rushing into his head, his reoccurring nightmare coming back to him vividly, with a man running up to him and shouting in his face, "Run Dat run! They are coming!"
Then Number Eight nearly blacked out, and had to grab the sink to steady himself, the dream leaving his mind as quickly as it had struck him. What the hell was going on? None of this made any sense to him. He knew that he had seen the markings under his arm the day before, but had forgotten about them, just after.....just after drinking his breakfast.
Number Seven stepped out of the shower, and seeing his face, asked, "Are you okay?"
He debated telling her, but decided to wait, answering, "I just have a lot on my mind."
She smiled at him and said, "That is the beauty of living in the pod. We never have anything on our minds. Get dressed. Second chime is about to sound."
Number Seven and Number Eight dressed and sat on the end of their bed, waiting. Neither spoke. They rarely did. Once the chime sounded, they put on their canvas shoes and exited their pod. Once again, they were the last ones to the dining module. This was always the case, because their home module was the farthest away.
This morning, they sat across from Number One and Number Two. Number One was a short petite blond lady with light blue eyes. Number Two was a very muscular black man with a thin moustache. Neither spoke as they were drinking their tart fruit shakes. Number Seven began drinking hers. Number Eight merely stared at his cup, eying the white milky substance.
The name Daniel Allen Taylor weighed heavily on his mind. 'Who was he, and more importantly, why was the man's name imprinted under his arm? Should he tell the others, or just drink his breakfast and forget about the whole thing?'
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven sat peering at him curiously, then uncharacteristically placed her hand on his and added, "Are you sure that you are okay?"
He stared into her brown eyes, and switched his cup with hers, saying, "I'm fine. I already drank my breakfast. You need to drink yours before the second chime sounds."
She looked down at the cup in front of her, confused, and started, "I did....." Then Number Seven shrugged and started drinking his breakfast.
"I'm going on vacation," Number One said, rubbing the small bulge in her stomach.
"When?" Number Eight asked, knowing that when their female partners became pregnant, they went away for awhile.
"During my last check up in the command module, the overseers said that I would be leaving very soon."
"She deserves a nice vacation." Number Two smiled. "I am very happy for her."
"The men never get vacations," Number Eight mused.
Number two frowned at him for a moment, then smiled again, saying, "Number One deserves a nice vacation, I am very happy for her."
Third chime sounded, and the twelve pod residents headed for the apple orchard. This time when they passed the command module, the overseers seemed more ominous to Number Eight. He stared into the black helmet of one, and when he turned his head to watch Number Eight passing, the man quickly looked at his feet.
Once they were in the orchard, the group busily began pruning the trees and watering them. Number Eight was near the back end of the pod wall, using pruning sheers, when an intense pain started inside of his head. The headache rapidly grew in strength, bringing on dizziness. The world spun with growing intensity, then he passed out onto the ground.
Some time later, he felt someone shaking him. "Are you okay, do you need an overseer?"
It was Number Five, staring at him with her intense blue eyes, her red hair falling over her shoulders, barely covering her ample breasts. He was surprised that he had never noticed how beautiful she was before.
"No, I am okay. I think I just got dizzy in the sun," he assured.
"I think I should get an overseer." She frowned, biting her lower pouty red lip.
He had to fight off an urge to kiss her, struggling to get a grip on himself. "No, I will go to the command module once we hear fourth chime."
She stared at him for a moment longer, and then walked away, heading to whatever duty she had to attend to. He caught himself staring at her shapely behind while she left. She was one attractive woman, he thought. Then a fly started to buzz around his face.
Number Eight waved it off, noticing that it flew straight into a spider web hanging between two branches, where it began to struggle. A long-legged black spider began traversing from the top of the web towards the unfortunate fly.
"Oh no!" Number Eight gasped, staring at the scene with a fascinated horror. The fly managed to get a couple of legs free and looked like he was about to escape, then the spider was upon it, biting and wrapping the insect.
"Oh no!" Number Eight whispered again, this time with great anguish, his face aghast, while his lips started to tremble. "I've killed you."
Large wet tears flowed steadily down his cheeks and he openly cried like a baby. He fell to the ground in a fetal position, sorrow racking his body as he sobbed uncontrollable. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. He sat up, looking about to see if anyone had seen his emotional outburst. Fortunately, he was alone in the back of the orchard.
Fourth chime sounded, causing the emotional man to jump up. He wiped the big wet tears from his face with his brown sleeve, and made his way out of the orchard. He needed to get control of himself. Day one without the breakfast drink had been intense.
First chime sounded and Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. As usual, it was over rather quickly. He jumped out of bed and showered, and after drying off his body, sat on the end of his bed while he towel dried his hair.
Then he caught a glimpse of Number Seven through the shower door. She was rinsing the shampoo from her hair, with her hands over her head. This caused her breast to jiggle. Number Eight stared hard, feeling the passion start to boil in his veins. He got up from the bed and went over and opened the shower door.
"What...?" she said, but then he was on her.
Number Eight took her in the shower, this time with the sex lasting much longer and taking place in various positions. They had just finished when second chime sounded. They both had to rush to get dried and dressed.
"You are changing," Number Seven said to him while they slipped on their canvas shoes.
None of the other couples noticed that they were extra late to the dining module. The others just mumbling some platitudes about the weather like they did every day. Once they sat down with their fruity breakfast drinks, Number Eight once again switched his full cup with Number Seven's empty one. This time she didn't even bother to protest, she just drank it down, as if that was the daily routine.
Number Eight couldn't help but look over at Number Five, watching every sip she took of her drink. He started to feel aroused. He couldn't help but noticed that after drinking the fruity white liquid, his counterparts' eyes glazed over even more, if that were possible. This look seemed to wear off a bit during the day, but would come back every morning with the breakfast drink.
Number Twelve, a curly brown haired middle-aged man was sitting across from him, shifting in his seat. Next to Number Twelve was Number Eleven, a younger black woman with even curlier hair. Annoyingly, Number Twelve's shifting kept blocking Number Eight's view of the stunning Number Five. Plus, he kept rambling on about the nice day. Number Eight felt another emotion bubbling to the surface.
"Could you just shut up and stop moving all about!" Number Eight exploded at Number Twelve. The raised voice caused everybody in the dining module to stop talking, and they all looked over at Number Eight.
"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't sleep last night. My apologies," he lied, and decided that he would need to steer clear of the red-headed woman until he figured out what was going on.
"You should go over to the command module and see about that sleeping problem," Number Twelve suggested, and then continued to ramble on about the weather, as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, with Number Eight staying mostly to himself in the orchard, avoiding the others as much as he could. Nobody that he did see seemed to remember his outburst in the dining module.
At fourth chime, he moodily made his way back to his home module, passing by Number Twelve, who said, "Beautiful day that were having."
Number Eight responded with an angry, "Take your weather and shove it up your ass."
He slammed the door behind him and found Number Eight sitting on the end of their bed, waiting for the fifth chime to tell her to go to sleep. He sat down beside her and took her hand. He wanted some answers.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
"Yes. That is what we are doing," she answered.
He smiled at her unwitting joke, and continued, "Don't you think that it is odd that we just sit here waiting for a chime to tell us to go to bed? I mean...we live our life off the chimes."
"That is what we are supposed to do," she answered.
"But, what if we didn't want to?" he asked.
"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't you want to?" She looked confused.
"Well, what if we wanted to go on vacation. Just go somewhere. Why couldn't we?" he questioned.
"I will go on vacation once you impregnate me." She smiled at him.
"No. That is not the same. Why couldn't we go somewhere together, just leave the pod?" he pushed.
"We can't do that," she said, confused. "We don't do that."
He liked her confused look, it was somewhat tender. "Well, why do I have to wait for first chime to do this?" He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, unable to remember the last time that they had kissed, or if they ever had.
She pulled away from him, causing Number Eight to grab her around the waist and kiss her even harder. She didn't pull away from him this time, just became compliant. He had her clothes off quickly and made love to her twice.
The second time, she let out a small moan, causing it to end quickly. He hadn't heard a woman moan in passion in as long as he could remember. Still, it frustrated him that she had just lain there and taken it. He wanted more of a response from her.
Fifth chime sounded, and before rolling over and falling to sleep, she said, "You are changing." Day two without the breakfast drink had ended.
Explosions, smoke, flashing lights, and screams visited his sleep. There was more. Much more for him to discover. It was buried there, just under the surface of his memory, wanting him to remember. Then there was that face, calling him 'Dat'.
First chime woke them. When he didn't roll over, Number Seven did and opened her legs. Number Eight just shook his head and got out of bed. He was tired of living like a robot. The rest of their morning routine went smoothly.
Once in the dining module, he sat across from Number Two, with Number One being obviously absent. After switching cups with Number Seven, he learned that the overseers had sent the blond-haired, blue-eyed lady on vacation last night. Number Two seemed happy about it and simply smiled, content that his partner would be back soon.
Once they reached the apple orchard, the pod residents saw that the burlap bags and wooden baskets had arrived, signaling that it was harvest time. This would take several weeks to complete. The men would pick the apples and load the baskets and take them to the four sheds located in the corners of the orchard. The women would then load the apples into the larger burlap sacks.
Number Eight went to the farthest corner again, and began picking the ripe red fruit. Without thinking about it, he took a large bite from one. This was the third day that he hadn't eaten the breakfast drink and he was having pains in his stomach. After eating three of the succulent juicy apples, the pains subsided.
A moment later he passed gas loudly. For a second, he bit his lip, then he lost control and burst into laughter. He laughed so hard that his eyes watered. He fell on the ground and rolled about, feeling intense joy. When he sat up, he saw her.
Number Five was in the shed, bent over, stacking burlap bags. Her rounded firm curves aroused him immediately. He tried to fight his strong urges, but it was too late. He came up behind the red-haired beauty and pushed her forward onto the burlap sacks, then pulled her pants down. She resisted initially, but after he was on top of her back, she stopped. After a few forceful moments, it was over.
"I am not Number Seven," she said, looking unnerved. "I am Number Five."
"I know." He looked at his feet, unable to meet her gaze, his cheeks turning bright red.
Number Five continued to stare at him with her intense blue eyes. He became painfully aware that he was naked, and after pulling up his brown pants, he ran from the shed. He was flooded with the feelings of a new emotion. Guilt.
A First Book Chapter contest entry
Number Eight finished and climbed off Number Seven, making his way to the shower. It was the same every morning. A chime woke them. They had sex, they showered, then they headed to breakfast. This was followed by work. Day in and day out they performed the same ritual for as long as Number Eight could remember.
Their home module was one room. Bedroom, shower, and toilet all shared the same open space. Although sparse, it was roomy and comfortable enough, besides, it was all that he had ever known.
Number Seven sat on the edge of their bed and stared at him, waiting for her turn to use the shower. She was over a foot shorter than him, and was slightly over-weight, with short black-hair. She wasn't particular attractive, and looked a bit "frumpy", but she was his partner and he had no complaints.
Number Eight reached in and turned on the shower, stepping in a moment later. He had accidentally turned it all the way to the hot position, and it burnt him. He didn't get out, he just stood there, because he felt something. It wasn't the intense heat, the steaming water was bearable, but the feeling of different. Something different from their mundane, routine existence.
After Number Eight turned off the shower, he went over to the large mirror beside the nearby sink and began to dry off. He observed his muscular toned frame in the mirror. He stood six foot tall and weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds. His short hair was light brown and his eyes were blue.
When he raised his right arm to dry beneath it, his gaze caught sight of something just below his armpit, on his side. The scorching hot water had turned his skin red, but white markings had raised up against the red. When Number Eight leaned in closer to the mirror, he could see that it was writing.
He stared hard at the image that was now fading as his skin cooled. There was a series of nine numbers, followed by six more below those. Below that was O+. Underneath that was the word Protestant. That was interesting, but what really caught his eye was the top three words, Daniel Allen Taylor. Then they were gone, his skin returning to its pre-heat burn color.
Number Eight turned to tell Number Seven, but she had already entered the shower. It would be hard for her to hear him, besides, the images were gone. What were they? What could they possibly mean? He pondered these questions while he and his partner dressed in their brown work shirts and pants. Once they heard the breakfast chime, they slipped on their canvas shoes and headed out to breakfast.
The dining module was full, with all of the other pod members present. There were six couples residing at the orchard pod, each living in a home module that exactly matched their own. Number Seven and Number Eight went over to the drink dispenser and after pushing a button, received a large glass of breakfast.
The dining module had three square tables with four chairs each, providing the exact amount of seats for each member of the pod. Number Seven and Eight made their way over to the only two available chairs, and sat across from Number Five and Number Six.
Number Five was a stunning young redhead, with intense blue eyes, and a curvaceous body. Number Eight barely noticed her, hoping to get a chance to speak with her partner. Number Six was a middle-aged balding man with slightly greying hair. He was lanky, but otherwise fairly unremarkable.
Number Eight couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen under his arm that morning, and wanted to talk about it, so said to Number Six, "Hey, I saw something this morning."
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven interrupted him, drinking from her own glass.
Number Eight gave her a small smile and swallowed down the thick white substance. It tasted like a fruity shake, with a slight tartness to it. They had the same thing every breakfast, and that was the only meal of the day. It took him two attempts to finish off the drink. He looked over at Number Six, wanting to speak with him, but the memory of what he wanted to talk about had faded away, along with most of his other thoughts.
The third chime signaled that it was work time. When they made their way to the apple orchard, they had to pass the command module. They rarely went in there, just when they were sick, and for check-ups. Walking by it usually gave Number Eight a bad feeling, but he had no idea why.
Standing outside the door were always a pair of overseers. They flanked both sides of the entrance, like silent sentinels. These two never spoke, just stood there, guarding. They wore black hard suits, almost like armor, with matching black helmets. The face shields were mirrored, failing to reveal what was hidden within the helmet.
On their chests was a circle made of red light. It was about the size of an egg, but round. When the overseer in the command module examined you, the lighted circle always turned from red to green. The overseers had never harmed him, but he still didn't like being around them. They made him feel uneasy.
The twelve pod dwellers entered the apple grove and began pruning and watering the five-hundred tree grove. Eight hours later, the fourth chime would sound, signaling the end of the workday. A fifth chime would tell them that it was time to sleep. Every day, five chimes. They signaled wake up, breakfast, work, end of work, and sleep. Day in and day out.
The following day, Number Eight awoke with a start. He had been having the dream again. Flashing lights, large explosions, and popping sounds surrounded him while he ran across a grassy field. Bodies lay everywhere. The dream was smoky confusion. He used to have it all the time, but then it had faded off. This was the first time that he had the dream in a long time.
A moment later, the first chime sounded. Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. He finished a few minutes later, and climbed off her and headed for the shower, following his mind-numbing daily routine. When he reached for the shower handle, he froze, a memory exploding upon him.
The images of the marks under his arm came flooding back into his mind. How had he forgotten them in the first place? Were they real? Were they a dream? Number Eight was very confused. He reached into the shower and turned it all the way to hot.
After stepping in for a moment, he climbed back out and rushed over to the mirror. Upon lifting his arm, he saw the clear markings again. Number Eight stared at them until they faded away. 'Daniel Allen Taylor' was clearly there. He hadn't been dreaming.
Then he was. Flashes, bangs, and screams came rushing into his head, his reoccurring nightmare coming back to him vividly, with a man running up to him and shouting in his face, "Run Dat run! They are coming!"
Then Number Eight nearly blacked out, and had to grab the sink to steady himself, the dream leaving his mind as quickly as it had struck him. What the hell was going on? None of this made any sense to him. He knew that he had seen the markings under his arm the day before, but had forgotten about them, just after.....just after drinking his breakfast.
Number Seven stepped out of the shower, and seeing his face, asked, "Are you okay?"
He debated telling her, but decided to wait, answering, "I just have a lot on my mind."
She smiled at him and said, "That is the beauty of living in the pod. We never have anything on our minds. Get dressed. Second chime is about to sound."
Number Seven and Number Eight dressed and sat on the end of their bed, waiting. Neither spoke. They rarely did. Once the chime sounded, they put on their canvas shoes and exited their pod. Once again, they were the last ones to the dining module. This was always the case, because their home module was the farthest away.
This morning, they sat across from Number One and Number Two. Number One was a short petite blond lady with light blue eyes. Number Two was a very muscular black man with a thin moustache. Neither spoke as they were drinking their tart fruit shakes. Number Seven began drinking hers. Number Eight merely stared at his cup, eying the white milky substance.
The name Daniel Allen Taylor weighed heavily on his mind. 'Who was he, and more importantly, why was the man's name imprinted under his arm? Should he tell the others, or just drink his breakfast and forget about the whole thing?'
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven sat peering at him curiously, then uncharacteristically placed her hand on his and added, "Are you sure that you are okay?"
He stared into her brown eyes, and switched his cup with hers, saying, "I'm fine. I already drank my breakfast. You need to drink yours before the second chime sounds."
She looked down at the cup in front of her, confused, and started, "I did....." Then Number Seven shrugged and started drinking his breakfast.
"I'm going on vacation," Number One said, rubbing the small bulge in her stomach.
"When?" Number Eight asked, knowing that when their female partners became pregnant, they went away for awhile.
"During my last check up in the command module, the overseers said that I would be leaving very soon."
"She deserves a nice vacation." Number Two smiled. "I am very happy for her."
"The men never get vacations," Number Eight mused.
Number two frowned at him for a moment, then smiled again, saying, "Number One deserves a nice vacation, I am very happy for her."
Third chime sounded, and the twelve pod residents headed for the apple orchard. This time when they passed the command module, the overseers seemed more ominous to Number Eight. He stared into the black helmet of one, and when he turned his head to watch Number Eight passing, the man quickly looked at his feet.
Once they were in the orchard, the group busily began pruning the trees and watering them. Number Eight was near the back end of the pod wall, using pruning sheers, when an intense pain started inside of his head. The headache rapidly grew in strength, bringing on dizziness. The world spun with growing intensity, then he passed out onto the ground.
Some time later, he felt someone shaking him. "Are you okay, do you need an overseer?"
It was Number Five, staring at him with her intense blue eyes, her red hair falling over her shoulders, barely covering her ample breasts. He was surprised that he had never noticed how beautiful she was before.
"No, I am okay. I think I just got dizzy in the sun," he assured.
"I think I should get an overseer." She frowned, biting her lower pouty red lip.
He had to fight off an urge to kiss her, struggling to get a grip on himself. "No, I will go to the command module once we hear fourth chime."
She stared at him for a moment longer, and then walked away, heading to whatever duty she had to attend to. He caught himself staring at her shapely behind while she left. She was one attractive woman, he thought. Then a fly started to buzz around his face.
Number Eight waved it off, noticing that it flew straight into a spider web hanging between two branches, where it began to struggle. A long-legged black spider began traversing from the top of the web towards the unfortunate fly.
"Oh no!" Number Eight gasped, staring at the scene with a fascinated horror. The fly managed to get a couple of legs free and looked like he was about to escape, then the spider was upon it, biting and wrapping the insect.
"Oh no!" Number Eight whispered again, this time with great anguish, his face aghast, while his lips started to tremble. "I've killed you."
Large wet tears flowed steadily down his cheeks and he openly cried like a baby. He fell to the ground in a fetal position, sorrow racking his body as he sobbed uncontrollable. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. He sat up, looking about to see if anyone had seen his emotional outburst. Fortunately, he was alone in the back of the orchard.
Fourth chime sounded, causing the emotional man to jump up. He wiped the big wet tears from his face with his brown sleeve, and made his way out of the orchard. He needed to get control of himself. Day one without the breakfast drink had been intense.
First chime sounded and Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. As usual, it was over rather quickly. He jumped out of bed and showered, and after drying off his body, sat on the end of his bed while he towel dried his hair.
Then he caught a glimpse of Number Seven through the shower door. She was rinsing the shampoo from her hair, with her hands over her head. This caused her breast to jiggle. Number Eight stared hard, feeling the passion start to boil in his veins. He got up from the bed and went over and opened the shower door.
"What...?" she said, but then he was on her.
Number Eight took her in the shower, this time with the sex lasting much longer and taking place in various positions. They had just finished when second chime sounded. They both had to rush to get dried and dressed.
"You are changing," Number Seven said to him while they slipped on their canvas shoes.
None of the other couples noticed that they were extra late to the dining module. The others just mumbling some platitudes about the weather like they did every day. Once they sat down with their fruity breakfast drinks, Number Eight once again switched his full cup with Number Seven's empty one. This time she didn't even bother to protest, she just drank it down, as if that was the daily routine.
Number Eight couldn't help but look over at Number Five, watching every sip she took of her drink. He started to feel aroused. He couldn't help but noticed that after drinking the fruity white liquid, his counterparts' eyes glazed over even more, if that were possible. This look seemed to wear off a bit during the day, but would come back every morning with the breakfast drink.
Number Twelve, a curly brown haired middle-aged man was sitting across from him, shifting in his seat. Next to Number Twelve was Number Eleven, a younger black woman with even curlier hair. Annoyingly, Number Twelve's shifting kept blocking Number Eight's view of the stunning Number Five. Plus, he kept rambling on about the nice day. Number Eight felt another emotion bubbling to the surface.
"Could you just shut up and stop moving all about!" Number Eight exploded at Number Twelve. The raised voice caused everybody in the dining module to stop talking, and they all looked over at Number Eight.
"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't sleep last night. My apologies," he lied, and decided that he would need to steer clear of the red-headed woman until he figured out what was going on.
"You should go over to the command module and see about that sleeping problem," Number Twelve suggested, and then continued to ramble on about the weather, as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, with Number Eight staying mostly to himself in the orchard, avoiding the others as much as he could. Nobody that he did see seemed to remember his outburst in the dining module.
At fourth chime, he moodily made his way back to his home module, passing by Number Twelve, who said, "Beautiful day that were having."
Number Eight responded with an angry, "Take your weather and shove it up your ass."
He slammed the door behind him and found Number Eight sitting on the end of their bed, waiting for the fifth chime to tell her to go to sleep. He sat down beside her and took her hand. He wanted some answers.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
"Yes. That is what we are doing," she answered.
He smiled at her unwitting joke, and continued, "Don't you think that it is odd that we just sit here waiting for a chime to tell us to go to bed? I mean...we live our life off the chimes."
"That is what we are supposed to do," she answered.
"But, what if we didn't want to?" he asked.
"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't you want to?" She looked confused.
"Well, what if we wanted to go on vacation. Just go somewhere. Why couldn't we?" he questioned.
"I will go on vacation once you impregnate me." She smiled at him.
"No. That is not the same. Why couldn't we go somewhere together, just leave the pod?" he pushed.
"We can't do that," she said, confused. "We don't do that."
He liked her confused look, it was somewhat tender. "Well, why do I have to wait for first chime to do this?" He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, unable to remember the last time that they had kissed, or if they ever had.
She pulled away from him, causing Number Eight to grab her around the waist and kiss her even harder. She didn't pull away from him this time, just became compliant. He had her clothes off quickly and made love to her twice.
The second time, she let out a small moan, causing it to end quickly. He hadn't heard a woman moan in passion in as long as he could remember. Still, it frustrated him that she had just lain there and taken it. He wanted more of a response from her.
Fifth chime sounded, and before rolling over and falling to sleep, she said, "You are changing." Day two without the breakfast drink had ended.
Explosions, smoke, flashing lights, and screams visited his sleep. There was more. Much more for him to discover. It was buried there, just under the surface of his memory, wanting him to remember. Then there was that face, calling him 'Dat'.
First chime woke them. When he didn't roll over, Number Seven did and opened her legs. Number Eight just shook his head and got out of bed. He was tired of living like a robot. The rest of their morning routine went smoothly.
Once in the dining module, he sat across from Number Two, with Number One being obviously absent. After switching cups with Number Seven, he learned that the overseers had sent the blond-haired, blue-eyed lady on vacation last night. Number Two seemed happy about it and simply smiled, content that his partner would be back soon.
Once they reached the apple orchard, the pod residents saw that the burlap bags and wooden baskets had arrived, signaling that it was harvest time. This would take several weeks to complete. The men would pick the apples and load the baskets and take them to the four sheds located in the corners of the orchard. The women would then load the apples into the larger burlap sacks.
Number Eight went to the farthest corner again, and began picking the ripe red fruit. Without thinking about it, he took a large bite from one. This was the third day that he hadn't eaten the breakfast drink and he was having pains in his stomach. After eating three of the succulent juicy apples, the pains subsided.
A moment later he passed gas loudly. For a second, he bit his lip, then he lost control and burst into laughter. He laughed so hard that his eyes watered. He fell on the ground and rolled about, feeling intense joy. When he sat up, he saw her.
Number Five was in the shed, bent over, stacking burlap bags. Her rounded firm curves aroused him immediately. He tried to fight his strong urges, but it was too late. He came up behind the red-haired beauty and pushed her forward onto the burlap sacks, then pulled her pants down. She resisted initially, but after he was on top of her back, she stopped. After a few forceful moments, it was over.
"I am not Number Seven," she said, looking unnerved. "I am Number Five."
"I know." He looked at his feet, unable to meet her gaze, his cheeks turning bright red.
Number Five continued to stare at him with her intense blue eyes. He became painfully aware that he was naked, and after pulling up his brown pants, he ran from the shed. He was flooded with the feelings of a new emotion. Guilt.
Their home module was one room. Bedroom, shower, and toilet all shared the same open space. Although sparse, it was roomy and comfortable enough, besides, it was all that he had ever known.
Number Seven sat on the edge of their bed and stared at him, waiting for her turn to use the shower. She was over a foot shorter than him, and was slightly over-weight, with short black-hair. She wasn't particular attractive, and looked a bit "frumpy", but she was his partner and he had no complaints.
Number Eight reached in and turned on the shower, stepping in a moment later. He had accidentally turned it all the way to the hot position, and it burnt him. He didn't get out, he just stood there, because he felt something. It wasn't the intense heat, the steaming water was bearable, but the feeling of different. Something different from their mundane, routine existence.
After Number Eight turned off the shower, he went over to the large mirror beside the nearby sink and began to dry off. He observed his muscular toned frame in the mirror. He stood six foot tall and weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds. His short hair was light brown and his eyes were blue.
When he raised his right arm to dry beneath it, his gaze caught sight of something just below his armpit, on his side. The scorching hot water had turned his skin red, but white markings had raised up against the red. When Number Eight leaned in closer to the mirror, he could see that it was writing.
He stared hard at the image that was now fading as his skin cooled. There was a series of nine numbers, followed by six more below those. Below that was O+. Underneath that was the word Protestant. That was interesting, but what really caught his eye was the top three words, Daniel Allen Taylor. Then they were gone, his skin returning to its pre-heat burn color.
Number Eight turned to tell Number Seven, but she had already entered the shower. It would be hard for her to hear him, besides, the images were gone. What were they? What could they possibly mean? He pondered these questions while he and his partner dressed in their brown work shirts and pants. Once they heard the breakfast chime, they slipped on their canvas shoes and headed out to breakfast.
The dining module was full, with all of the other pod members present. There were six couples residing at the orchard pod, each living in a home module that exactly matched their own. Number Seven and Number Eight went over to the drink dispenser and after pushing a button, received a large glass of breakfast.
The dining module had three square tables with four chairs each, providing the exact amount of seats for each member of the pod. Number Seven and Eight made their way over to the only two available chairs, and sat across from Number Five and Number Six.
Number Five was a stunning young redhead, with intense blue eyes, and a curvaceous body. Number Eight barely noticed her, hoping to get a chance to speak with her partner. Number Six was a middle-aged balding man with slightly greying hair. He was lanky, but otherwise fairly unremarkable.
Number Eight couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen under his arm that morning, and wanted to talk about it, so said to Number Six, "Hey, I saw something this morning."
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven interrupted him, drinking from her own glass.
Number Eight gave her a small smile and swallowed down the thick white substance. It tasted like a fruity shake, with a slight tartness to it. They had the same thing every breakfast, and that was the only meal of the day. It took him two attempts to finish off the drink. He looked over at Number Six, wanting to speak with him, but the memory of what he wanted to talk about had faded away, along with most of his other thoughts.
The third chime signaled that it was work time. When they made their way to the apple orchard, they had to pass the command module. They rarely went in there, just when they were sick, and for check-ups. Walking by it usually gave Number Eight a bad feeling, but he had no idea why.
Standing outside the door were always a pair of overseers. They flanked both sides of the entrance, like silent sentinels. These two never spoke, just stood there, guarding. They wore black hard suits, almost like armor, with matching black helmets. The face shields were mirrored, failing to reveal what was hidden within the helmet.
On their chests was a circle made of red light. It was about the size of an egg, but round. When the overseer in the command module examined you, the lighted circle always turned from red to green. The overseers had never harmed him, but he still didn't like being around them. They made him feel uneasy.
The twelve pod dwellers entered the apple grove and began pruning and watering the five-hundred tree grove. Eight hours later, the fourth chime would sound, signaling the end of the workday. A fifth chime would tell them that it was time to sleep. Every day, five chimes. They signaled wake up, breakfast, work, end of work, and sleep. Day in and day out.
The following day, Number Eight awoke with a start. He had been having the dream again. Flashing lights, large explosions, and popping sounds surrounded him while he ran across a grassy field. Bodies lay everywhere. The dream was smoky confusion. He used to have it all the time, but then it had faded off. This was the first time that he had the dream in a long time.
A moment later, the first chime sounded. Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. He finished a few minutes later, and climbed off her and headed for the shower, following his mind-numbing daily routine. When he reached for the shower handle, he froze, a memory exploding upon him.
The images of the marks under his arm came flooding back into his mind. How had he forgotten them in the first place? Were they real? Were they a dream? Number Eight was very confused. He reached into the shower and turned it all the way to hot.
After stepping in for a moment, he climbed back out and rushed over to the mirror. Upon lifting his arm, he saw the clear markings again. Number Eight stared at them until they faded away. 'Daniel Allen Taylor' was clearly there. He hadn't been dreaming.
Then he was. Flashes, bangs, and screams came rushing into his head, his reoccurring nightmare coming back to him vividly, with a man running up to him and shouting in his face, "Run Dat run! They are coming!"
Then Number Eight nearly blacked out, and had to grab the sink to steady himself, the dream leaving his mind as quickly as it had struck him. What the hell was going on? None of this made any sense to him. He knew that he had seen the markings under his arm the day before, but had forgotten about them, just after.....just after drinking his breakfast.
Number Seven stepped out of the shower, and seeing his face, asked, "Are you okay?"
He debated telling her, but decided to wait, answering, "I just have a lot on my mind."
She smiled at him and said, "That is the beauty of living in the pod. We never have anything on our minds. Get dressed. Second chime is about to sound."
Number Seven and Number Eight dressed and sat on the end of their bed, waiting. Neither spoke. They rarely did. Once the chime sounded, they put on their canvas shoes and exited their pod. Once again, they were the last ones to the dining module. This was always the case, because their home module was the farthest away.
This morning, they sat across from Number One and Number Two. Number One was a short petite blond lady with light blue eyes. Number Two was a very muscular black man with a thin moustache. Neither spoke as they were drinking their tart fruit shakes. Number Seven began drinking hers. Number Eight merely stared at his cup, eying the white milky substance.
The name Daniel Allen Taylor weighed heavily on his mind. 'Who was he, and more importantly, why was the man's name imprinted under his arm? Should he tell the others, or just drink his breakfast and forget about the whole thing?'
"Drink your breakfast." Number Seven sat peering at him curiously, then uncharacteristically placed her hand on his and added, "Are you sure that you are okay?"
He stared into her brown eyes, and switched his cup with hers, saying, "I'm fine. I already drank my breakfast. You need to drink yours before the second chime sounds."
She looked down at the cup in front of her, confused, and started, "I did....." Then Number Seven shrugged and started drinking his breakfast.
"I'm going on vacation," Number One said, rubbing the small bulge in her stomach.
"When?" Number Eight asked, knowing that when their female partners became pregnant, they went away for awhile.
"During my last check up in the command module, the overseers said that I would be leaving very soon."
"She deserves a nice vacation." Number Two smiled. "I am very happy for her."
"The men never get vacations," Number Eight mused.
Number two frowned at him for a moment, then smiled again, saying, "Number One deserves a nice vacation, I am very happy for her."
Third chime sounded, and the twelve pod residents headed for the apple orchard. This time when they passed the command module, the overseers seemed more ominous to Number Eight. He stared into the black helmet of one, and when he turned his head to watch Number Eight passing, the man quickly looked at his feet.
Once they were in the orchard, the group busily began pruning the trees and watering them. Number Eight was near the back end of the pod wall, using pruning sheers, when an intense pain started inside of his head. The headache rapidly grew in strength, bringing on dizziness. The world spun with growing intensity, then he passed out onto the ground.
Some time later, he felt someone shaking him. "Are you okay, do you need an overseer?"
It was Number Five, staring at him with her intense blue eyes, her red hair falling over her shoulders, barely covering her ample breasts. He was surprised that he had never noticed how beautiful she was before.
"No, I am okay. I think I just got dizzy in the sun," he assured.
"I think I should get an overseer." She frowned, biting her lower pouty red lip.
He had to fight off an urge to kiss her, struggling to get a grip on himself. "No, I will go to the command module once we hear fourth chime."
She stared at him for a moment longer, and then walked away, heading to whatever duty she had to attend to. He caught himself staring at her shapely behind while she left. She was one attractive woman, he thought. Then a fly started to buzz around his face.
Number Eight waved it off, noticing that it flew straight into a spider web hanging between two branches, where it began to struggle. A long-legged black spider began traversing from the top of the web towards the unfortunate fly.
"Oh no!" Number Eight gasped, staring at the scene with a fascinated horror. The fly managed to get a couple of legs free and looked like he was about to escape, then the spider was upon it, biting and wrapping the insect.
"Oh no!" Number Eight whispered again, this time with great anguish, his face aghast, while his lips started to tremble. "I've killed you."
Large wet tears flowed steadily down his cheeks and he openly cried like a baby. He fell to the ground in a fetal position, sorrow racking his body as he sobbed uncontrollable. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. He sat up, looking about to see if anyone had seen his emotional outburst. Fortunately, he was alone in the back of the orchard.
Fourth chime sounded, causing the emotional man to jump up. He wiped the big wet tears from his face with his brown sleeve, and made his way out of the orchard. He needed to get control of himself. Day one without the breakfast drink had been intense.
First chime sounded and Number Eight rolled over and climbed on top of Number Seven. As usual, it was over rather quickly. He jumped out of bed and showered, and after drying off his body, sat on the end of his bed while he towel dried his hair.
Then he caught a glimpse of Number Seven through the shower door. She was rinsing the shampoo from her hair, with her hands over her head. This caused her breast to jiggle. Number Eight stared hard, feeling the passion start to boil in his veins. He got up from the bed and went over and opened the shower door.
"What...?" she said, but then he was on her.
Number Eight took her in the shower, this time with the sex lasting much longer and taking place in various positions. They had just finished when second chime sounded. They both had to rush to get dried and dressed.
"You are changing," Number Seven said to him while they slipped on their canvas shoes.
None of the other couples noticed that they were extra late to the dining module. The others just mumbling some platitudes about the weather like they did every day. Once they sat down with their fruity breakfast drinks, Number Eight once again switched his full cup with Number Seven's empty one. This time she didn't even bother to protest, she just drank it down, as if that was the daily routine.
Number Eight couldn't help but look over at Number Five, watching every sip she took of her drink. He started to feel aroused. He couldn't help but noticed that after drinking the fruity white liquid, his counterparts' eyes glazed over even more, if that were possible. This look seemed to wear off a bit during the day, but would come back every morning with the breakfast drink.
Number Twelve, a curly brown haired middle-aged man was sitting across from him, shifting in his seat. Next to Number Twelve was Number Eleven, a younger black woman with even curlier hair. Annoyingly, Number Twelve's shifting kept blocking Number Eight's view of the stunning Number Five. Plus, he kept rambling on about the nice day. Number Eight felt another emotion bubbling to the surface.
"Could you just shut up and stop moving all about!" Number Eight exploded at Number Twelve. The raised voice caused everybody in the dining module to stop talking, and they all looked over at Number Eight.
"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't sleep last night. My apologies," he lied, and decided that he would need to steer clear of the red-headed woman until he figured out what was going on.
"You should go over to the command module and see about that sleeping problem," Number Twelve suggested, and then continued to ramble on about the weather, as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, with Number Eight staying mostly to himself in the orchard, avoiding the others as much as he could. Nobody that he did see seemed to remember his outburst in the dining module.
At fourth chime, he moodily made his way back to his home module, passing by Number Twelve, who said, "Beautiful day that were having."
Number Eight responded with an angry, "Take your weather and shove it up your ass."
He slammed the door behind him and found Number Eight sitting on the end of their bed, waiting for the fifth chime to tell her to go to sleep. He sat down beside her and took her hand. He wanted some answers.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
"Yes. That is what we are doing," she answered.
He smiled at her unwitting joke, and continued, "Don't you think that it is odd that we just sit here waiting for a chime to tell us to go to bed? I mean...we live our life off the chimes."
"That is what we are supposed to do," she answered.
"But, what if we didn't want to?" he asked.
"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't you want to?" She looked confused.
"Well, what if we wanted to go on vacation. Just go somewhere. Why couldn't we?" he questioned.
"I will go on vacation once you impregnate me." She smiled at him.
"No. That is not the same. Why couldn't we go somewhere together, just leave the pod?" he pushed.
"We can't do that," she said, confused. "We don't do that."
He liked her confused look, it was somewhat tender. "Well, why do I have to wait for first chime to do this?" He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, unable to remember the last time that they had kissed, or if they ever had.
She pulled away from him, causing Number Eight to grab her around the waist and kiss her even harder. She didn't pull away from him this time, just became compliant. He had her clothes off quickly and made love to her twice.
The second time, she let out a small moan, causing it to end quickly. He hadn't heard a woman moan in passion in as long as he could remember. Still, it frustrated him that she had just lain there and taken it. He wanted more of a response from her.
Fifth chime sounded, and before rolling over and falling to sleep, she said, "You are changing." Day two without the breakfast drink had ended.
Explosions, smoke, flashing lights, and screams visited his sleep. There was more. Much more for him to discover. It was buried there, just under the surface of his memory, wanting him to remember. Then there was that face, calling him 'Dat'.
First chime woke them. When he didn't roll over, Number Seven did and opened her legs. Number Eight just shook his head and got out of bed. He was tired of living like a robot. The rest of their morning routine went smoothly.
Once in the dining module, he sat across from Number Two, with Number One being obviously absent. After switching cups with Number Seven, he learned that the overseers had sent the blond-haired, blue-eyed lady on vacation last night. Number Two seemed happy about it and simply smiled, content that his partner would be back soon.
Once they reached the apple orchard, the pod residents saw that the burlap bags and wooden baskets had arrived, signaling that it was harvest time. This would take several weeks to complete. The men would pick the apples and load the baskets and take them to the four sheds located in the corners of the orchard. The women would then load the apples into the larger burlap sacks.
Number Eight went to the farthest corner again, and began picking the ripe red fruit. Without thinking about it, he took a large bite from one. This was the third day that he hadn't eaten the breakfast drink and he was having pains in his stomach. After eating three of the succulent juicy apples, the pains subsided.
A moment later he passed gas loudly. For a second, he bit his lip, then he lost control and burst into laughter. He laughed so hard that his eyes watered. He fell on the ground and rolled about, feeling intense joy. When he sat up, he saw her.
Number Five was in the shed, bent over, stacking burlap bags. Her rounded firm curves aroused him immediately. He tried to fight his strong urges, but it was too late. He came up behind the red-haired beauty and pushed her forward onto the burlap sacks, then pulled her pants down. She resisted initially, but after he was on top of her back, she stopped. After a few forceful moments, it was over.
"I am not Number Seven," she said, looking unnerved. "I am Number Five."
"I know." He looked at his feet, unable to meet her gaze, his cheeks turning bright red.
Number Five continued to stare at him with her intense blue eyes. He became painfully aware that he was naked, and after pulling up his brown pants, he ran from the shed. He was flooded with the feelings of a new emotion. Guilt.
Implantation is a book that I had a great time writing. Lots of interesting characters and a couple of unexpected twists. This is my first time sharing a part of it. I hope you enjoy Chapter One, Shattered Illusion.
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