[Somewhere, in a colony under the Earth]
-466-R.
-466-R, come to the window please.
-I can’t believe it; working from one day to the infinity. Doing the same work day to day just like an ant. ‘Damn the day the Nuclear World started’ my great-grandpa used to say . ‘Someone pressed the button and Blam!’ Now we’re living like worms in these colonies under the Earth.
-466-R, please!
-I hate this place. There’s no room for creativity nor feelings-We’re treated just like machines. I remember my great-grandpa’ stories; stories about a world full of things that i’ve never seen before. But the most important thing was that people had something called a name.
-Next!
-Next... who cares? They’re all pathetic fools who haven’t noticed they’re dead. From the moment they received a code number, they’re dead meat. Sadly, I also have a code number: 468-R. In my deepest memories, I remember my great-grandpa’ stories... when he named me Michael and I liked it. He told me that I’d never have to forget that word... It would be my name, my identity, my body and my soul. Michael...
-Next.
-My turn...
-468-R.
-I’m not a number...I’m Michael.
-468-R please...
-My great-granparent told me once that a wonderful world is outside, but the only way to reach that place is leaving this one...
-468-R now!
-Maybe it’s time to visit that place...
[people running]
...
...
...
The next day, some office workers were talking about the incident ocurred.
-So, what did it happen yesterday?
-Uhm... a guy commited suicide...
-Oh, I see... and did you know him?
-I think he was 468-R maybe, maybe not...
