Story a day: 1.12.16

The conversion pods – they change you. I mean, they’re supposed to or whatever. But I’m not talking about walking through and getting reassigned.

I first noticed it a couple cycles back. I stepped through in the morning for my assignment. That day, I worked construction. The part of my brain that’s still me after reassignment, the little voice that gets pushed to the back of my mind, likes the outdoor labor the best. I’m sure it used to be a worse job, but with climate restructuring, it’s actually quite pleasant.

Anyway, I did my assignment like normal, but when I stepped back through at the end of the day to go back to me it felt like something pulled, like some little thread of me got left behind. It almost felt like skinning my knee, leaving that little shred of flesh behind on the pavement. Or, in this case, in the conversion pod.

Since then, every day, a little tug, a little snip. More and more pieces of me left behind.

And what should I do? I can’t not go to the pods. Everyone does. It’s how you earn your stipend. What would I do instead? How would I eat? How would I take care of Pinn? I have to go to the pods. And I have to leave something behind every day.

How long until there’s nothing left?

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