Order of 2062

Introduction

In two days I will die. My life will be stripped from me and I will be nothing more than an object of ownership. That's what Mom whispers to me anyways.

You see, she's a frail older woman and has nothing in life going for her except for me- her only daughter. She didn't grow up in a loving family, never went to college, and certainly didn't fall in love with the man whom I call Dad.

Dad, he's an older man and is never home. He works a lot. I don't remember him much but I think he was alright. He didn't love Mom. Not as much as I love her anyways.

About me dying, I wasn't being literal. My heart feels like it's beating faster and faster in each hour that passes. From the history books at school, I was reading that when each baby is born, they are injected with this biological adrenaline that causes their hearts to race when they encounter an individual with the identical injection as their own. I know that in 48 hours, I am going to meet that individual. I feel it.

I don't believe in God. But if I did, I'd be praying that my life doesn't end when I meet that individual. I want it to go on. I want to have children. I want to fall in love with a stranger. I want to build a home and live out my life watching the sunset with my humongous family.

"Mae!" Calls Mom, which stirs me out of my daydream. I blink twice and realize that I am burning the pan. Damnit!

I quickly add butter and it instantly melts. I drizzle the whisked eggs into the pan and wait for it to cook. I turn around and see Mom shaking her crooked finger at me. "You better pay attention when you cook or the whole place will burn down."

"Sorry, I was just daydreaming," I reply and turn off the stove top. I scrape off the eggs onto a plate and serve it to Mom as she slides into her chair. She begins eating. I take a seat adjacent to her.

"What was it about?" She inquires as she places her fork down.

"A family," I shortly answer.

She raises her eyebrow and corrects me, "a unit."

"Seven kids, a loving husband, and a cute farm house in the middle of no where," I describe.

"Mae Arlene, you know you can't have such a thing. Order 2062 forbids it. Haven't you learned anything in the last 21 years you've been alive?

"Law number one: one child per unit.

"Law number two: marriage is a must when paired with another.

"Law number three: each child at birth must be injected with..."she continues on until she had to take a sip of orange juice. I roll my eyes and leave the breakfast table.

I check the time and realize I am running late for work. I work as a photographer for a world known company- Social Artistic Division. Otherwise known as S.A.D. I did not have a say in the abbreviations when the company was first founded. I don't think they would want to hear what I had to say either. I'm not exactly the most popular photographer there, no matter how much I try to excel in my passion.

I hear the honking of my car as I exit the house. With a tap of a button, I open the door and the blaring sound ceases. Peace and quiet.

The office building was only fifteen minutes away- driving distance. However, since it is nearly Easter break, there's traffic. I don't have road rage, but I've certainly been told otherwise.

I jog into my building and scribbled my name onto the sign-in sheet. I do not bother to make it neat. According to the government, I am the only Mae Arlene in the whole world.

I sprint up three flights of stairs before I start huffing and puffing. What? I am not a gymnast. By the eighth flight, my legs are shaking as I find my studio. I pass my competition as I walk past the low-lit offices. When I say competition, I mean fellow photographers trying to make an impression and influence the world.

There's only one photographer I am on friendly terms with, and it's my brotherly friend named Derek. He's my boss, but somehow I managed to grow a friendship with him.

I enter Derek's office and lay on the yellow sofa. For some reason, his favorite color is yellow. I suppose that's why his office contains many objects that are at least some shade of yellow. I stare up at the ceiling until I hear his footsteps lead into his office.

After a few noises of rustling paper work, he gibes, "late again?"

"No," I scoff and sit up. He arches an eyebrow at me, but says nothing. I stick my tongue out at him and heave myself off the couch. I scout his desk until he finally hands me my assignment.

I take the folder and look through it.

A man with a voice.

I stare at Derek. Before I even opened my mouth, he says, "no."

"Why not?" I inquire and try to make a puppy face.

"I want you to excel in this business and be my co-worker, not my employee. And to do that, you must be creative and find a subject matter that is not me," he explains. Derek places his hands on my shoulders and steers me out of his office. Before he shuts the door in my face, he smirks, "Besides, you need to use that brain of yours and show me you aren't the stereotypical blonde."

I stare at the wooden door for a moment or two. He's joking, right?

A/N: HEYO...welcome to the crib. I'm trying to swim outside my comfort zone and not drown. It would be AMAZINGLY awesome if you comment and vote. Although, I do not mind silent readers. I know, that's rare. I hope you continue reading and enjoy! -Kayla