NanoWriMo 2013: 01


My Name is Mine. The new wave of graffiti sloganeering making its way around the city, around the country. Look, it’s all well and good to want to keep hold of something so quaint as a “Name,” but I’m telling you. Since the Mandatory Citizen ID Numbering Act, everything’s been all good. The scheme is virtually foolproof. You don’t get anyone else’s mail; there’s no confusion as to which “John Smith” is which. We all have a unique, individual code that keys to ourselves, our DNA, our everything.

“MEINE NAME IST MEIN.” Well, sport, you can HAVE it.

I pop into the shop for a quick iced tea. I hand the checkout girl, a sweet young brunette specimen, ID# 901447853, my card. She scans it, and sort of LOOKS at me, quickly, nervously. She must like me or something. Young lust eh? Try regulating THAT, right?

“Here you go. Sir,” she says. I smile and nod, take my tea, and continue my walk.

I get down half a block when a black leather gloved hand places itself on both of my shoulders. I stop suddenly, dropping my tea. The glass shatters on the sidewalk.

“What the HELL–” I start, before I see who they are. Police, behind black shades and blacker facemasks. For less ease of identifying, of course.

“Citizen ID# 576123086, you will come with us.”

Something wasn’t right.

“But…for what, Officers?”

“You are wanted in connection with a string of serial rapes. Your DNA has been positively tied to your ID code, 576123086.”

But… but WAIT. That can’t be RIGHT! I’ve ALWAYS been 57621308… oh no.

“I’m just reaching for my ID officers!” I said, one hand up in the air. I fished into my coat pocket, I hadn’t placed it back in my wallet. Ever since I renewed it the other day, I barely took it out, and surely….


Oh. Dear. G–

“ID# confirmed. You will come with us now.”

But it’s not ME. That’s not my NAME…

My Name is…


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