Almost Everyone [Sci-fi Short Story Pt.4 of 4]

Asha has always been sick and now she's dying, but she has the choice to live at the cost of everything she knows to break the conspiracy keeping everyone indentured.

Welcome back for the finale!

We're on the last part of Almost Everyone and this is where Asha takes the plunge to escape her manufactured fate. But she'll lose it all in the attempt.

It was finally her birthday, for what it was worth. She never celebrated them, but this year was different. Asha turned twenty-five. No longer could MediCorp prod her without her consent so they’d refused to refill her Gracelet^TM unless she agreed to continue those treatments. The ones they never mentioned were the ones killing her.
      Dad called for her from downstairs. With as much courage as she could summon, she headed down toward the kitchen. She paused in the hallway and looked at Mum in the living room. The machines still beeped and hummed, the tubes always feeding into her. She was still asleep. Asha missed her voice, too.
      “Good morning, Asha.” Only the crackle of Dad’s vocal implant greeted her in the mornings any more. “Happy birthday!” He picked up a tray of black forest cake from the counter. The scent of dark cherries trailed into the living room where it died under the smell of medicine. Dad set the cake on the yellowed plastic coffee table. He gestured for her to join.
      Asha took a deep breath and lifted her foot over the threshold of the doorway. Dad tapped the ‘play’ icon on the screen of the entertainment system and their song began — Mum’s and hers. Shuffling forward, she sat on the couch. The springs strained under her weight.
      “Your mum and I bought this for you when you were born, to give you today.” Dad placed a worn brown envelope on Asha’s lap. He shuffled back to his torn armchair and looked at her with a glint in his good eye that she hadn’t seen since Mum had gotten him his leg brace almost a decade ago. His Gracelet^TM beeped.
      “Dad?”
      He frowned and waved his hand. “Not now, Asha. I have some medicine left in it.” He always did that, drained it dry to get the most out of every costly drop.
      Asha lifted the envelope and opened the flap. A single sheet of paper rested in the pocket. She looked up at him. His smile arched up on the right side while the left sagged as usual.
      With a sigh, she closed it again. Medical insurance. “I want you to have it.” She got up and slipped the envelope into his twisted left hand. “Sell it and get yourself a new Gracelet^TM and life-stock.”
      “But Asha, this is for your future medical bills. We don’t want you to suffer like us.” Dad gestured to Mum and back to himself.
      “I have that secured. I’ve been working on a plan. I was gonna tell you tonight at supper...” She needed to steady her voice.
      His smile dulled for a second then perked up again.
      He pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her back. “We have enough. Don’t worry about us. The left-over in the policy can be used for your security, too. Things are getting more violent out there, and I worry.” He pushed her back and stared into her eyes.
      It was pointless to argue with him. He’d understand that she wouldn’t need security once the plan came to life.
      The Gracelet^TM on his wrist beeped again, more urgent this time. Dad hoisted himself from the chair and headed upstairs where the refill machine waited. He struggled up the staircase.
      Asha rose from the couch and walked toward Mum. “Thank you.” She kissed her forehead. Her skin warmed Asha’s lips and she wanted to stay like this a bit longer. There wasn’t much time left. She pulled out the comm-slab from her back pocket and tapped the glass to dial the number.
      “Dr. Nanjala speaking.”
      “It’s Asha.” She paused. Mercy gasped. “It’s time.” She breathed out.
      The line died and she dropped the comm into the crater in the cushion where she’d sat. She searched through Mum’s medicine cabinet drawer that hung open, ready for an emergency. Dad prioritised accessibility over safety.
      Mum’s breathing was becoming laboured.
      Asha dug for the small syringe of orange liquid at the back of the drawer, where she’d hid it weeks ago. Part of Mercy’s plan. Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer. She looked over her shoulder to the staircase. Dad smiled as he descended, eyes half-buried under folds of skin.
      “How about some cake no–” His smile turned into a frown and he stopped on the second-to-last step.
      The sirens had reached the porch. A knock pounded against the door. Dad didn’t flinch.
      “Asha?”
      “I’m saving you, Dad,” she shouted over the wails outside. She was saving everyone. The liquid in the syringe would put her to sleep, like she was dead. Mercy had promised to find the cure within her DNA, to stop the virus. What choice did she have?
      “I love you,” Asha mouthed without sound and Dad flinched, hesitating on the last step.
      She wished she could tell him, let him know this wasn’t the end, what the whole plan was. But it was too dangerous. This was the only way to escape MediCorp, to make sure they didn’t find her. The paramedics needed to say that she’d done this to herself so they couldn’t claim her body. It was meant for science. It was in her name, she was hope. MediCorp knew this.
      It was time the world did, too.
      Asha positioned the needle into a vein in her arm and pushed on the plunger, watching as Dad limped toward her before the paramedics could get in. There was something in his eyes, even the droopy one, something that made her feel warm despite the cold racing up her fingers and toes. He caught her, his arms trembling under the strain of her weight, but he held fast and pulled her closer to his chest.
      Asha watched the tears washing his eyes and cheeks where they drizzled into the folds of skin overlapping the corners of his mouth. His soft crooked smile was the last thing she’d seen and his choked whisper the last she’d heard. A whisper, not of forgiveness or grief, but of love and pride. Words that had declared freedom. For him and for her.
      And almost everyone.
 

 
Thank you for following along! I wasn't expecting the reception to be so positive. If there is demand, I may return to this story and add more parts to it, follow what happens to Asha after she's "rescued". We shall see. In the meantime, I have a bunch of other stories like this for your reading pleasure, so stay tuned!