Look, I don’t have long. In fact, I have maybe an hour before all that I’ve ever known, all that I ever was, is erased into nothingness. But that’s the price you pay when you defy an order from the Authority. One little misstep, one small act of defiance has cost me everything that I’ve ever held dear. My name’s Ashel Raze and I am the last of what remains of my family. This is my tale that sent me down this spiral to hell.

            It was early this morning, my birthday to be more precise, when dread swept over me like a fever. Age 12—it used to be a number for coming of age—but here in the city of Corel; well it’s a dread for all girls. When a girl reaches the age of 12, the Authority forces the girls to cycle through what we call the Process. They snatch us as if were a batch of bread and conduct tests on us to see if we are fertile. If you are then you are taking to the farms. I’ve heard the stories; everyone knows the truth of what takes place there. How the Fertiles are treated as nothing more than incubators for the next generation.

But what can you do when the last of your kind are reduced to only a small thousand. There are hardly enough people to fill life in the city, which is remarkably sad when you look at the vastness of the world. Just to think how empty it is, when during history lessons we’re told billions used to inhabit the planet. And now, we’ve been driven to a small pin-prick in the world.

My birthday isn’t only a day spent for me, but for also my twin sister Miran. Miran, how I miss you—I’m so sorry. The past is the past though, so let me tell my tale to get you got up with the present.

It was supposed to be an ordinary Process, nothing should have gone wrong. But everything did, and it was all because of me and my unwillingness to let my sister be taken to the farms. Dressed in our white gowns, the obscure men jabbed and pricked us with numerous needles that takes our blood and registers into several different devices. The end results in that I’m sterile, whereas Miran is seen a very promising candidate in the eyes of the Authority.

It’s when they try to sweep my sweet sister, who for my entire life I’ve looked out for, that I act out of blindness. Something within me takes over, something that frightens the men taking our blood. Instinctively, I punch the official that is to take the Fertiles to the farms. My hit is so spot on that it crushes the man’s larynx and renders him into asphyxiation. I’m frightened. But mesmerized as well, as are many of the doctors in the room. A small innocent looking 12 year old girl kills an official with one punch. Not something you hear every day, and it’s not something you see either. I remember how Miran stares at me. The blue eyes that we share are wide and stuck in a gaze of disbelief. For a moment I feel like Miran doesn’t even know me. Hell, I feel like I don’t even know me. And that’s when it happens.

APs (Authority Police) enter the room to take action. Their barrels are heightened at me and when they go to shoot, it’s almost as if I step out of my body and let it take its own action. Nothing can stop me, not their bullets, their demeaning statute, the men’s sheer power. I still don’t even know what happened, just that something inside me came to life and that I killed every AP and official in sight. And that’s when everything blacks out and I wake up in this cell.

A man named Grey enters my grey walled room—very fitting irony in my opinion—and begins an examination upon me. And after that’s done, I’m shown footage of what has happened during the duration of my blackout. They’ve lined up the members of my family: my sister, brother, my mother and father (those that are accepted since are real parents are impossible to locate) and within seconds nothing but lifeless bodies remains of my loved ones.

And here I am, this 12-year-old little girl, being told my execution will be held shortly. And it is only in my final last minutes that I find out the reasoning for all this. Revolution. People in charge of the babies that come out of Fertiles have created weapons from some of them, weapons that they choose to control whenever they please. And I am one of them. Or I use to be one of them. Sorry, this is all I have. Public execution awaits in one minute. Goodbye.