The truck rumbled to a halt, its engine growling in the echoing silence of the processing center. The children, their faces etched with fear and confusion, felt the weight of the unknown future closing in on them. The driver, a man hardened by indifference, stepped out of the cab, his gaze never lingering on the cargo he transported.
Guards, dressed in uniforms that seemed more like battle gear than anything else, surrounded the truck. They moved with military precision, their faces devoid of emotion. With stern orders and no room for dissent, they ushered the children out of the truck, forming a grim procession toward the processing center’s entrance.
Katy, just 14 years old, found herself among the group. Only a day ago, she had been attending high school, her biggest concern the upcoming math test. Now, her life had taken a nightmarish turn, and her world had been upended.
Her father’s voice echoed in her head, a final desperate plea before he succumbed to his illness. “Play the game, look for opportunity, escape if you can. If you can’t escape, survive.”
Those words were etched into Katy’s soul, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. She clung to them as she shuffled along with the other children, past the watchful guards and into the facility. The first stop was a medical exam, where they were prodded, probed, and measured, their futures determined by a cold set of criteria.
The dreaded commodity rating would decide their usability within the program. Katy couldn’t help but shiver, her heart pounding in her chest as the doctors examined her. She couldn’t afford to be deemed unfit for work.
After the medical examination, it was the insertion of tracking devices. Katy felt the sting as the device was implanted beneath her skin, a constant reminder of the surveillance that would follow her every move.
Next came the shower, a brief reprieve from the filth and fear that clung to her. Clean clothes were provided, although they felt like costumes in this grim theater of life.
The guards were unyielding, their orders curt and unwavering. The children were sorted and processed like cattle, with no regard for their dreams or their pasts.
Katy couldn’t forget her father’s voice, urging her to play the game. As she stepped out of the processing center, the Commodity Trade Center loomed in the distance, a foreboding fortress where their fates would be auctioned to the highest bidder.
With each step, Katy carried her father’s words like a torch, a glimmer of hope in a world where survival was the only game worth playing.