Happy Birthday

• Luke Worswick, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2009

Happy Birthday

I had restless sleep last night. I kept dreaming about today. My 50th birthday.
I always enjoyed my birthday, but I have been dreading this one since my childhood. My 50th birthday.
I get up out bed. I think I’ll wear my best clothes today (wouldn’t want to go out in cheap clothes). I put on a dark, black latex body suit. I think I will skip today’s meal. I don’t feel much like eating, and I’m not going to need it.
While I wait for them to arrive, I think I’ll see what’s on the projector. Huh. Not much. There’s the political news, world news, stock channel, and what seems to be an infinite number of infomercials. I hate the news. They’re always whingeing about ‘not enough air’, or ‘not enough food’. They’ve been saying it for so long that I’m starting to wonder if it really is true.
My father used to say that it wasn’t always like this. We used to have abundant food, and plenty of air. But after the trees were killed (I never really understood what a tree was, though) by lack of sunlight, we started to run out. He said they found a way to make air, but we were still low on food.
I’ll turn it off. No point wasting the rest of the day watching the projector if there’s nothing on.
What else is there to do? Not much. I’m not supposed to leave the house, and there’s not much left here to do except reminisce. I look at the photographic slideshow display on the wall. It shows photos of me, my two children, and my late husband. Then it shows me a photo I have not seen in a long time; my father. I haven’t seen him in ages. Not since his 50th birthday.
I sighed. I am sick of waiting for them to arrive. I wish they would just come already.
I hear my daughter getting out of bed. She knows it’s my birthday. But she doesn’t know about them. Poor thing. She’s only 12 years old, and yet she still doesn’t know about them. I wanted to tell her, but I could never bring myself to do it.
“Happy birthday, mum!” she said as she poured some nutrient soup into a cup. She put the cup down and gave me a hug.
“Good morning, kiddo.” I replied, trying to seem as cheery as possible. I hugged her back gently.
Knock, knock.
They’re here.
I thought I would be prepared for this, but I wasn’t. I tried not to cry. I wouldn’t want to upset Sora.
I walked over to the front door and swiped the keycard. The door opened, and I saw my son standing there.
He didn’t say anything, but looked at me sadly. He hugged me, squeezing me softly. I hugged him back, and sobbed a little.
Behind him stood a young man and a young woman, both of whom appeared to be in their thirties.
“Are you citizen F/CF236780002, Ms Jody Redernan?” asked the young woman.
I nodded. “Can you go get the trolley?” the young woman said to the man beside her. He went off to the van parked on the landing strip.
“What’s going on?” asked Sora, who had just come up to the door.
I smiled at her. “You’ll have to stay with your brother Nate for a while.” I stated.
“Why? Where are you going?” she asked, looking slightly worried and a bit confused.
The man returned with the trolley. “Are you ready to go, Ms Redernan?” he asked.
I nodded, and then I simply said “I’m going to go and make food.”
Nate took Sora away in his jetcar, and they strapped me onto the trolley. They took me into the van, where they gave me my lethal injection, as we flew off to the organic recycling plant.