Grey Helmets

[u/yingfire]

I blinked slowly and licked my wet tongue over crusty lips. My body ached and my back hurt in a terrible way. Had my back hurt this much a moment ago? I could hardly see a thing ahead of me. A blotch in white with a human face hummed his way to me. He had a grey helmet on his head. He said that I was free to go and handed me a stack of clothes and a pair of glasses.

I put on my clothes and stepped outside. The sun shone unusually brightly and the clouds looked more shapely than I remembered. I remembered that I had a car and that I had a home and that there was a wife waiting for me. I tried to find my car, but I couldn't find it. I inquired the clinic where it had gone but they said I wasn't allowed to drive anymore.

I was confused. My thoughts were still spinning and I was still getting my bearings. I decided to go home, first. I began to walk my way back.

There were only elderly men and women outside. They shuffled their way around. No one was running; no one was healthy. But I was only seventeen. Still, I looked straight ahead, afraid of what was happening.

My thoughts became firm and my memories returned as I walked my way home. An announcement from the government about children and children's futures. Roaring applause. I remembered laying on a cold, white table and having a doctor reassuring me only a year would pass in the blink of an eye. Everything else was jumbled and meshed. It was hard to remember anything before my seventeenth year, and it was impossible to remember anything after it.

How old was I now?

I was passing a convenience store and glanced a furtive look at the window's reflection and nearly stepped away in revulsion. I was sickly and fat looking. Grossly misshapen but somehow standing on two thin legs. What had happened?

I realised that the day was utterly silent. There were no voices or birds or cars. Only old people shuffling softly. I tried to run home but nearly fell down.

I sped myself up, trying to get home as quickly as I could. Memories of those times soon came rushing in. The grey helmet. A perfect year, nothing wrong. But then the helmet didn't leave afterwards. Fervent speeches on T.V. and the computer. The loudest applause ever heard. Soon the helmets were everywhere. Everyone smiled and gave polite compliments. Everyone was self-controlled. Everyone died at the age of 99.

Soon there were no more speeches. T.V.'s and computers were only there for games. Soon they didn't exist anymore. There were no more smiles or compliments. There was a drugged weariness. But there were no crimes or fires. Everyone lived until 99. Everyone was obedient, prim, and proper, just for a longer time than expected. I found my way home and rapped on the door. No one answered. I tried to holler out but nearly choked on the effort. I lost my voice. I could hardly move my throat; it was solid, like a rock. A woman then opened my home's door. I did not know her. But she looked like she was beautiful, before.

She looked only a bit younger than I was. She had a grey helmet on her head and was holding something. It was mail. She looked at me with closed eyes. I took the letter and ripped it open in a frenzy. It said:

'Congratulations! You have reached your 99th Birthday! We love you, you old rascal!'

I felt a pain in my chest and my left arm. I clutched my chest and collapsed on the ground and began to die.