Writings: Subway Stare

Date Unknown

approximate age: 13-17

The test began one hour ago and so far it was unsuccessful. People marched into the subway station, unaware that their immune systems were being pushed to the limits.

“There one goes!” the Footman bellowed.

They rushed to the fallen person.

The woman stood up and brushed her tattered clothes off. She cursed under her breath and motioned for her unseen companion.

“Goddamn bugs. They oughta watch where the hell they’re going. Come on Corky, let’s get our asses going.”

“Ma’am, are you all right?” the Footman called after her.

“What the hell do you care?”

She entered the doorway to the subway car.

The Footman returned to the hidden room above the stairway and sat down in one of the available seats.

“Well?” The Headman turned to his coworker.

“She tripped,” the Footman grabbed a donut from the table and shoved it into his fat face.

“Is that all you ever do? Jesus Christ! Get to work.” the Lefthandman stood next to the Headman.

“God Almighty! Nothing has happened. It’s been two hours already,” said the Righthandman.

“It’s been one hour and eight minutes. Sit down,” the Headman ordered.

“Look!” yelled the Rightlegman, “They’re doing it. They’re staring!”

The group gazed out of the window. Sure enough, there was a man staring off into the distance.

“It worked. By God! It worked!” the Headman sighed and told the Leg and Footmen to go get him.

The test was a success! The man was brought back and examined. His immune system had indeed given up.

“Now we can get to the good stuff!” screamed the Leftlegman.

“Right. Let’s tell the Brainman that it worked,” the Headman rushed from the hidden lab as the passengers exiting and entering the subway station began to stare off into another world. The test was definitely a success.