91热爆

By Susannah

Isn't time peculiar? Sometimes it flies, free like a bird. I'll never be free now. A single envelope changes that. But sometimes each tick feels like a lifetime passing. At the moment I have all the time in the world, literally. I have no age. That changes today. March 19th 2875. Today I get my countdown. That's where my time starts. And eventually ends.

According to my mother, they used to measure age as an increasing number. But the population continuously rose, until they decided only the most worthy should live. So now we're tested, our intelligence, looks and charisma. It鈥檚 great, for the rulers who have no issues. Perfect, if you're perfect. But why should they condemn me, because I'm not? And when that envelope comes, that's when you get your number. The number is the amount of years you have got left to live. The highest numbers I've ever heard of is 256 years. The lowest is 10 minutes, apparently the girl died whilst reading it. I say apparently, because you never know what's true and what are lies spread by the rulers, scare tactics. I shouldn't speak against them. The countdown starts as soon as you get the letter, so there's no point in not opening it. I've tried every option. There is no way out. That's the problem with the new life. There's never a way out.

The testing wasn't what I expected. We got led into a room where there were lines of desks and booklets. We were told we had two hours. I'm never been commended for my intelligence. 鈥淭oo stupid鈥� they all yelled. Needless to say, I didn't fare too well. But I'm much more interested in the running of the society than which 'gracious' leader vanquished the rebels. Then we all got taken into a room and examined. I'm not ugly, 5'4, brown hair and brown eyes, but I'm certainly not ravishing. I was shoved at the side while supermodel material strutted around. That's me, always shoved at the side. The next part was the hardest, the interviews. The cold air, white tables and stony faces just made me panic. 鈥淣ame?鈥� They asked. 鈥淚t's, it's鈥� I stammered, trying to put a coherent sentence together. There were several raised eyebrows as they waited for an answer. I begged my mouth to work, praying for the floor to swallow me up. So instead I just ran off sobbing. I don't think my articulation skills will have rated very highly either somehow. It's not the end of the world, my mother told me. But it could be. It could be the end of my world.

But here I am. And here's my letter. I hold the white paper knowing what's inside could change my life forever. Will change my life forever. I've had it for 10 minutes, so at least I won't have broken the record. But the importance of this number! My fingers brush it, as my nails tear it open.

'Congratulations, you will......'