Author : Elle B Sullivan

The taxi pulled up outside of the school, right into the center of the large circle dive. This driveway had been the barrier between me and the rest of the world throughout my entire childhood – and I was terrified to leave it. My caretaker walked me to the door of the car and put a rigid arm around me, “goodbye 726H,” she said sternly.

I smiled, but couldn’t feel my hands as I made my way into the back of the taxi, sitting next to another boy about my age. On his name-tag, “678L” was written and the date listed below his name was tomorrow’s date. The windows suddenly turned black and the barrier between the front seats and the back raised, isolating us from the outside world.

“Do you know where you’re going?” The boy asked, looking towards me and studying my name-tag, and then my body.

“I believe I will be going to a famous genetic scientist of some sort – he was recently in an explosion.” I smiled a rehearsed smile.

“That’s wonderful.” He responded back, “I believe I am also going to a scientist.”

“Oh how wonderful.” I replied, and then felt warmth in my heart from sharing a similar fate with someone I had just met.

“Will you miss your home?” I asked 678L.

“I wouldn’t know anything different,” he responded. “What about you?”

“I’m the same. I have nothing to hold on to back there.” I replied, and then noticed his hands were shaking slightly. “Would you like me to hold your hand?” I asked him, and his face transformed into a smile as he nodded slightly.

“You are the first person I’ve met who isn’t a caretaker.” He said with a smile, “perhaps even my first friend.”

“You are my first friend as well,” I smiled back. “Even my caretaker wasn’t very friendly.”

“Me as well.” He replied.

The car began to slow, and we turned onto a different road. Then the car came to a stop, and the windows began to lighten, as the barrier between the front and back seats of the car lowered.

“Yes this is 678L for tomorrow’s three o’clock transplant and 726H for tomorrow’s at eight o’clock.” Our driver told the intake person who greeted him at his window.

“Great, we’ll take them both now.” The woman said, dressed in a blue linen outfit.

I believe I felt afraid. But I knew my fate. I knew that my entire life had been leading up to… I just didn’t know I would feel so alone.

“Promise me something?” I asked 678L quietly.

“Anything.” He said while nervously waiting to be taken from the car.

“We will be friends forever?” I said, feeling silly – but needing something to hold on to.

“Always,” he said.

Both our doors were opened, and we were taken out of the car, and asked to lie down onto large rolling carts. Once settled, we were both fitted with masks placed over our faces. Suddenly my head felt light, and I –

– – – –

“Professor Johnson?” A nurse dressed in blue scrubs asked as the patient began waking from his anesthesia.

He tried to speak, the sound unintelligible, groggily struggling to open his eyes.

“I just wanted to let you know the heart and lung transplant surgeries were both a success, and you’ve been recovering wonderfully. The two children donors were very healthy, and we believe your body is having no issues with the new organs.”

“Good,” he struggled to say through his oxygen mask before closing his eyes to rest again as his body healed.

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