The Written Word

Wake Up Patient 2,840,921

BBC 500 words finalist 2019 

I wake up abruptly to the sound of my alarm, the loud, endless ringing, blaring painfully in my ear. I scramble to get up, running my hands blindly over my arms until my fingers find what I am looking for; a small round bump along my forearm, vibrating along to the screaming of my alarm. I press down on it, hard, and the ringing stops. 
"Please receive your schedule" a familiar, cool, female voice announces in my ear. Obediently I press the bump on my arm and a familiar stinging sensation crawls its way up my wrist to my elbow as the tiny computer implanted in my arm prints my schedule on to my skin. 
7.30am 
Use toilet.
Brush teeth.
Shower. 
I get up and place my hand on the little scanner beside my bedroom door. "Patient number 2,840,921 welcome" says the voice as the door slides open. Twenty minutes later I step out of the bathroom. "Thank you for your co-operation". I nod to acknowledge the voice and look back down at my arm. 
7.50am 
Activate Caregiver
Check settings
Remove dust.
Say "good morning". 
I place my hand on the scanner. A large screen that functions as my wall switches on - thousands of icons swarm the screen. I click the one with a picture of a smiling woman, titled Caregiver. 
Two doors to my right slide open to reveal a motherly looking woman. As usual I check her settings. "All systems functional" the voice in my ear announces. I check her for dust, finding none, as always. Then I press a button on her neck to switch her on. "Good morning Rachel" I say, slowly and clearly. She nods "Good morning Michael". 
I stare at the titanic, metal door that keeps me where I am, hardly daring to believe it. 
The door was open. 
I take a tentative step toward the door. 
Then another. 
Just as my trembling hand settles on the doorknob, a loud, whining alarm rings throughout my apartment. I freeze in place, overcome with terror. Rachel rounds the corner. Her glassy eyes have lost their warmth. 
"Michael, return to your room". 
Her voice was no longer kind. It was steely and robotic. 
I squeezed my eyes shut and take another step towards the open door. 
"PATIENT 2,840,921 RETURN TO YOUR ROOM". 
I feel heavy footsteps shake the floor as Rachel sprints towards me. I'd never thought of her as a big, hulking being made of metal before. I fling the door open and slam it behind me, hearing the automatic click of the lock as I sprint down the hallway. 
"COME BACK!" I hear Rachel screaming after me, pounding her fists on the door, scratching at it trying to break it down. 
"MICHAEL COME BACK! I'LL DIE WITHOUT YOU!" she shrieks. 
And that was the last time I'd ever hear her. 
Because just as I rounded the corner, I heard a loud bang from my room. 
Rachel had been terminated as a caregiver.

GJ Aged 13