Disgust

“Ekko, I've sent in the application for your marriage license.” mother told me. “Once it's reviewed, you'll have a suitor picked out in no time.”

“Thank you, mother,” I nodded, knowing there should be no concerns with my application being accepted.

It was the peak of womanhood to be able to continue my genetic lineage. So many girls each day are considered poorly fit for such a competitive practice, making It all the more rewarding if the government allows it.

I do nothing different than anyone else though. I eat the same food, I reach the country sponsored fitness goals and I keep myself well groomed. All these things are mandatory, so all that's left to judge was whether my DNA was worth passing down.

Even though our parents were genetically hand picked to produce me, that didn’t mean I’d be getting the best of their genes. Luck was a factor.

Fortunately, finding a male suitor wasn’t luck based at all. A committee would have to approve anyone they send my way, making the process sound and easy.

According to recorded testimonies of women of the old world, it was anxiety inducing to find your own husband. Men used to hide secrets from women until marriage, then they'd usually reveal them and turn aggressive against her, leading to a divorce.

Since the government took over the process, there hasn't been a single case of that. Not one.

“Mother, I thank you again for submitting it,” I said.

Was that a hint of happiness in my chest? Couldn't be.

She saved me from a very unwanted anxiety trip. For one reason or another, that emotion wasn't fully suppressed by our pills. Nobodies sure why.

“It was only Logical,” mother replied.

Father will be pleased by this as well. I'm sure it will be good news when he gets home.

***

It was a quiet day, exactly the same as any other. People walked to their jobs, rode the bus to school, paying no mind to anything around them.

Eyes forward. Don’t say a word. Just keep walking your path.

That ran through my head constantly. It spun around my mind like a snake coiling around its victim. To call it suffocating on an average day seemed ridiculous, but today, I felt a struggle to follow that advice.

Maybe a chirp from a bird on a wire, or the sudden squeak of a door opening would be enough to catch my quick glance. I heard these things every day, but today it was different.

“Eyes forward,” I said to myself.

With all my willpower, I pushed through looking at those distractions.

As I continued to walk, I saw there was a puddle of mud approaching fast.

The steps I took every day were my own. The exact positions my feet touched down on the ground were calculated from years of marching this path. It was the same for everyone else around me.

If I were to step around it, I’d bump into people, causing a ruckus.

“Keep walking your path…”

Mud covered the bottom of my shoes as I stepped through it.

A tinge of disgust filled my chest as I cringed over the mess. School made us change shoes when we entered it, but just the thought of needing to clean the bottom of my feet…never have I wanted to scream into the air more than right now.

“Don't say a word…” I growled under my breath.

What was wrong with me? I know I took my pill this morning, so where was this frustration coming from?

If anyone noticed, they'd think I was off my meds. I kept a straight face and continued until hearing some sort of chanting.

This sound almost had a musical charm to it, but its constant ups and downs in tone and rhythm were so strange, like the ethereal singing of a ghost.

An instrument joined in on the noise pollution. It sounded like someone was constantly yanking a stiff cord of twine.

That voice sounded like it was coming from the alleyway. I followed it in, trying to ignore the overflowing dumpster here, but noticed nobody was around. Guess I was just hearing things.

“Ahh…” an elderly man happily cooed out, "looks like someone took the bait.”

I looked down to see an old man sitting, blending in with a pile of trash next to the dumpster.

“You look disgusting,” I turned around to exit the alleyway.

“Hey, wait!” He faked a sorrowful voice. “Come on. Is that any way to talk to an old man?”

“You shouldn't even exist. You're well past the point of liability expulsion.”

“Heh…you want me dead that badly? Too bad. These bones still got life in em’.”

People like him were just selfish. They took up space in society and offered nothing in return, expecting everyone to just take care of them when they can't even go to the bathroom themselves.

Disgusting. He belonged in the trash he lived in. I had half a mind to report him.

“Out of many who walk this street, you're one of the first to actually come and see me in years.” He had such a horrendously smug face, like it was his lucky day.

What was he even implying? That somehow, I wanted to talk with him?

“I'm surprised nobody has reported you yet.” I told him.

“Nobody even looks my way. They just ignore me.”

Putting aside my disgust for a second, I'm probably responsible for that too. We normally just ignore issues like they're not even there. A man in black was supposed to come by and clean things like this up, but it seems they've neglected this problem.

Now I wasn't even angry. He seemed more like a stray pet that had been fending for itself for too long and became a parasite to society.

“Well, I won't ignore you. I'll tell the authorities and they can euthanize you properly.”

That was the only logical solution. It would be a lot better if he just contacted them himself. But people like him didn't have the mental capacity to realize what they had to do. Such a pity.

"仕方ない..."

What did he say? I had a feeling he was mocking me.

"Please repeat that," I requested.

"What, that pill make you deaf too? Shi-ka-ta-nai. It means 'it can't be helped.'"

That was Japanese. I wouldn't be surprised if his generation spoke it pretty fluently.

"Are you fluent in Japanese?" I asked.

"I am," he nodded. "Learned it at school, if you believe it. That must have been…fifty…no…sixty years ago. Damn, it's been that long? My generation probably raised your parents."

I don’t remember my own grandparents. They were expelled when I was young. I think they would be around his age though.

He almost felt like a time capsule, if I'm being honest. A picture of the dirty looking world we used to live in. Surely my own grandparents were not of this stock.

"You seem oddly content for such a relic."

"You could say I am." His lips curved up behind his long beard.

"But, you clearly are off your pill. How could you possibly be pleased?"

"Because feeling anything is better than feeling nothing. I think that's something you'll need to feel out for yourself."

How witty of him.

I didn't have time for any more of this chatter. I'd already delayed my walk to the bus long enough.

"I'll be taking my leave,” I said. “Someone will come to collect you shortly."

"Guess this is how it all ends, then," he sighed. "Was good while it lasted. Just remember…one day, you'll be like me, young lady."

"I'll accept my euthanasia if it prevents me from ending up as trash."

"Sure you will."

But when I left, I didn't report him. I had my phone ready and everything. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet.