My Name Is Nothing, What’s Yours?
A short story
I don’t have a name. None of us do. Names don’t mean anything, not here. Maybe they used to, for others, but not for us. They are just an identifier. But we have identifiers already. We were made, built, constructed with them. They are etched in our skin. Numbers, stamped on the outside of us, and also implanted inside, so small we…