Writing Contest Finalist: The Auroris

A while back, I entered a 7-Day Story Writing Challenge. That meant that I had seven days to write a story based on the theme and genre assigned to me. This was the tenth time they’d done this competition, but it was my first time hearing about and entering the contest. While they always have a word limit of 2,000 words or less, the theme changes, and genres are randomly assigned to participants.

*If you don’t care to read the background information but you are interested in the story, skip ahead to “The Auroris.”

Entering the Contest

The theme for the whole contest was “Regret,” and I was assigned the “science fiction” genre. Anyone who knows me well knows that I sometimes doubt my own abilities, so I was a bit back and forth on whether to even enter. This was kind of my thought process:

I can’t do a science fiction story. I don’t write science fiction.

Well, you could at least give it a try.

Yes, but I know next to nothing about science fiction. I’d just be wasting my time.

It’s free. What do you really have to lose?

Uh, how about several hours of my life that I can never get back?

Really?

Yes, really. Besides, now I’ve wasted time arguing with you, and it’s now down to only three days to write the story.

Exactly. You still have three days to write. You can’t win if you don’t try.

I can’t lose if I don’t try either, and you know how much I hate to lose.

You’ll REGRET it and always wonder what would have happened if you don’t do this.

(Negative and positive self-talk me then have a staredown).

Fine, I’ll do it.

The Results

I wish that I could say that I ended up winning the writing contest. Not only would it be great to have the bragging rights, but it would have been nice to have the prize money. It was an international competition, and it was awarded in British pounds, but if my calculations are correct, I would have gotten around $640 (US money) if I’d actually won. That wouldn’t have been bad for a week of arguing with myself and about three hours of actual writing and editing time.

While I didn’t win the contest, I was a finalist. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean a whole lot since only the winner gets any money. I’m not even sure that I can really claim bragging rights. Maybe, everyone who entered the contest was at least a finalist. I’d like to believe that I did better than just a “participation shout-out” trophy, though.

If anyone is interested, here’s the non-winning but still finalist story. Please note that I am not a science fiction writer, and this was really far outside of my comfort zone (almost as much as sharing this is outside my comfort zone).

The Auroris

Sarah stared at her computer screen. Fifteen hundred. Two Thousand. Over two and a half thousand. She tapped the side of her head to turn off the screen, not wanting to watch the horror that was unfolding. A quick tap and a glance back at the screen confirmed her fears. The numbers were over three thousand, and that was only in the last twenty-four hours. Sarah tapped the screen back off.

“Okay, I’ll do it, but I’m not a surgeon,” she announced, looking at the crowd.

She saw the fear in their eyes, and the guilt gnawed at her. How had it come to this?

“Who’s first?” she asked.

One man toward the back of the room raised his hand, twitched, and then promptly dropped dead. As nearly everyone in the group’s hands shot up, Sarah wondered what crime the dead guy had committed. Probably nothing too serious, or he wouldn’t have lasted this long even. He might even be innocent. Rumor had it that nearly a third of the people who were dying hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Alright. Let’s just start at the front,” Sarah said, twisting the scalpel around in her right hand.

A line quickly formed in front of Sarah. Having anticipated a rush to get to the front of the group, she was surprised by how orderly the process was. Sarah motioned for the first person to step forward.

“This may not work. It may even k—” Sarah didn’t finish the sentence.

The young woman nodded her understanding. Sarah felt along the lady’s hairline, searching just above her ear for the familiar small lump. Taking a deep breath, Sarah plunged the knife into the skin. While she hadn’t implanted the device herself, she’d seen enough of the original surgeries to know roughly how deep to cut. Still, it took several minutes for the tiny disc to emerge. Sarah held up the offending device and then dropped it on the floor, stomping on it and smashing it. Cheers erupted throughout the room. She quickly silenced the group with her index finger across her lips. Sarah handed the lady an alcohol wipe. She knew it wasn’t really sufficient, but it would have to do.

Sarah quickly started to wipe off the scalpel. It wasn’t the best or most sanitary solution, but time was not on their side. Sarah had calculated that even if she could get it down to three minutes per person, this was going to take at least six hours. Every one of these people basically had a ticking time bomb in their heads thanks to her.

“This may n—”

“At least it’s a chance,” the next person said.

Sarah nodded and started the process with less hesitation this time. Within just over three minutes, she’d found the disc. As Sarah pulled it out of her second patient’s head, she thought back to the first time she’d seen the Auroris at work. Thanks to its tracking technology, a kidnapped child had been located and reunited with his parents in less than two hours. She’d felt proud the first time her suggested upgrade had quickly subdued a serial killer from miles away through electroshock currents sent right to the man’s brain. Now, though, Sarah felt responsible for what it had evolved into.

Wiping off her instruments for the second time, Sarah heard the back door open. In walked six people, all of them wearing medical gear. Sarah’s heart started racing. They’d been caught. She’d known it would likely happen, but she hadn’t anticipated it happening so soon.

“Please remain calm. We are here to help,” the tall lady leading the group said.

Sarah was pretty sure the lack of panic was due more to people accepting their fate than them really believing the lady. The line slid to the side, allowing the group to make their way to the front of the room.

As the medical personnel reached Sarah, the tall lady pulled out an assortment of tools seemingly from nowhere. Sarah stared at them for a moment, mesmerized. She’d heard about these tools, but this was the first time she’d seen them in person. 

“You want to try them? Take a few,” the tall lady suggested.

Sarah nodded, reaching for a handful of tools. She motioned for the next person to step forward. Sarah hovered the tool over the man’s skull, just above his ear. Within seconds, the disc came out, leaving behind a tiny cut and almost no blood. Sarah dropped the disc to the ground, raised her foot up, and the disc started to emit sparks.

“It was just a traffic ticket,” the man muttered, walking away.

“When they find out you’re—” the tall lady looked straight at Sarah and then toward the disc. “You’d better be next.”

For a moment, Sarah hesitated. What if it was a set-up? Of course, pressing the little button and zapping her dead before she’d done anything would have been the easiest solution if they really wanted to get rid of her. 

“Okay,” Sarah agreed, putting her tools down on the table.

Sarah felt a slight tingle as the disc popped out of her head. Suddenly, memories of things she hadn’t thought about in years came to her mind. As her disc dropped to the ground, she almost expected it too to start vibrating or emitting sparks. Instead, someone smashed the motionless disc to pieces within seconds.

“What about all of you?” Sarah asked.

“We never got it,” the tall lady explained.

Sarah looked over at the group. Six medical staffers, and none of them had the Auroris? How had they managed that? She knew no hospital in the country, let alone the city would hire them without it.

Instead of asking the questions going through her mind, Sarah turned back toward the person standing in front of her. A quick swipe above the person’s ear, and the process was done. The group soon got into a rhythm: swipe, crush the disc, and move on to the next person. Occasionally, someone waiting in line would twitch and then drop dead. She was tempted to encourage those with more severe crimes to move to the front of the line, but she knew that there was no specific reason for the order of the “disposals.”

About fifteen minutes into the process, the tall lady turned to Sarah and said, “I’m Erin, by the way.”

“Sarah.”

“Yes, everyone knows that already,” the man three down from her said, strong emotion evident in his voice. 

Erin gave the man a disapproving look, but Sarah didn’t blame him. At this point, she’d be the first to volunteer to be the president of the Anti-Sarah Club. Instead of being bothered by the man not liking her, Sarah focused on the task at hand. As she continued to remove the Auroris from people’s heads, Sarah regularly glanced over at the man who clearly felt strong negative emotions concerning her. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t figure out how she knew him.

About an hour into the process, Sarah smashed another disc and looked up to realize that there was no one left waiting. Sarah gazed down at the tool in her hand, grateful for something that made the process faster but still wondering about the people she hadn’t saved. She gathered up the tools she’d been using, holding them out for Erin to take.

“Keep them all,” Erin told her, handing her a bag with the rest of the tools in it. “You’re going to need them.”

Sarah started to protest, but Erin turned to leave. The rest of the group followed quickly behind her.

“You may want to take a look through those tools right away,” Erin said, turning back around.

Before Sarah could ask for clarification, Erin and the rest of the group disappeared. Sarah started pulling the tools carefully out of the bag, one at a time, not sure what she was looking for. Rods about the length and width of her index finger piled up on the table. Nothing set any specific one apart. When Sarah turned the bag upside down, a small dark brown piece of rice fell onto the table.

She picked up the grain of rice, pinching it between her fingers. Suddenly, a holographic image appeared, explaining that what she was about to see was from the previous day. Sarah’s finger went toward her temple before she remembered that the Auroris was no longer there. Instead, Sarah swiped her finger across the image. An article with several photos popped up, some of the photos familiar. Even in the unfamiliar pictures, the woman had Sarah’s nose and her sea-blue eyes, but she was older than Sarah, in some cases, several decades older. Words and phrases started to stand out as Sarah read through the article. 15 October 2100- 25 November 2259. Helped invent the Auroris. Defied authorities. Broke into government facilities. Deprogrammed the Auroris. Lived in hiding for over 30 years. Will be missed by family and friends.

As she completed the first page of the article, Sarah swiped her finger across the image again. A large photo of over two dozen people showed up. Her eyes were drawn to one man in the back row.

“You can do it, Grandma.”

The voice came from behind her. Sarah turned to look. The man who had appeared to dislike her earlier ran up to her and hugged her tightly. Sarah came roughly to the man’s shoulders, and she felt the warmth of his tears on her head. He let go of Sarah for a moment, and sea-blue eyes glistening with tears stared back at her.

“You can do it, Grandma. Just do as it says. Don’t lose it.”

Then he was gone again. Could she really do it? She had the outline. She knew what she needed to do. While there was no redeeming herself, at least she could make things better. Even if she failed, she figured she had to try.