It's what we all want: to survive. It's why we have hospitals and guns, a government and a military. They ensure us a longer survival. Or maybe, they just lengthen our life to prevent what humans refuse to remember is inevitable: death. But who says this is living? It seems more like just existing, being stubborn to our fate. All humans strive for this intangible concept to "live life". We have dreams, aspirations, goals, etc. All for this humane theory we are expected to follow like a tradition. I too have fallen short of this, I have measured myself to conformity, I want to survive.
Then again, so does everyone else in this room, I'm just probably the only one who's come to this realization of our simple minded society. It's information like this that justifies my survival. It's the information that will ruin any chance they have.
Shaking feet, bouncing knees, and fidgeting fingers are all around me. The anxiety in this room is suffocating-I want to leave. However, if I leave, then any chance I have at this will be lost. So I stay, relentless again to my human nature, again I conform.
It's times like this that I feel stronger than ever before, and yet powerless. My ability to overthink anything possible helps me to realize more than most, but subjects me to horrifying truths I'd rather leave unthought of.
At last, the doctor comes into the waiting room. He's protected head to toe: lab coat, rubber gloves, shower cap, and slippers over his shoes tucking in the bottom of his pants. Yet, he holds the most dangerous thing in his hands: survival. On a clear plastic tray he carries twelve vials of magenta bright liquid. Here lies the problem, there are thirty two of us in this room-I've counted six times. The scientists have been debating for hours as to who are "the most fitting" for the trial, and I know I am not one of them.
I'm sitting across the room from the doctor and the twelve vaccines. I just need one. I'm too far from them, but unhesitatingly and hardly subconsciously, I leap up from my chair as the doctor begins to speak. I hear alarms and screaming turn to muffled noise. Adrenaline is pumping throughout my body. Men in hazmat suits struggle to keep a hold on me. My vision is beyond blurry but my eyes are still fixed on that splashing magenta liquid clutched in the doctors frozen hands.
A space between the rushing people opens between the doctor and I. I throw myself into the doctor, the vaccines crash to the ground and scatter around us. He's disoriented-everyone is, except me. I grab a vial off the carpet and sprint out of the chaotic waiting room. I hear gunshots and desperate screams for help, but I keep running. I survived.