101

The train rasped along the tracks, heading north, and a boy watched trees fade into the haze.

“Take a mental picture, because this is the last time you’re all ever gonna see your paradise,” The robot at the head of the train said. Another robot went down the isle of the train, handing out blue uniforms, each having a unique number on the collar. The boy unfolded the uniform.

“Put the uniform on immediately. We will dispose of your primitive outfits,” the robot instructed. People began to remove their clothes, but the boy was hesitant. He looked away from the naked bodies, out the window at the disappearing forest. His home was hidden within the forest.

“Boy!” the robot called out, and then made it’s way to the boy’s seat. It had a human like figure, But no mouth. Whenever it spoke, the front of it’s oval head would softly flash green. It stood over the boy’s seat.

“Are you defective? If so, you will be recycled,” the robot threatened. The machine’s chrome chases was well polished and the boy could see his reflection. It grabbed his jaw, then looked into his eyes. The boy squirmed under the tight grip. 

“You appear normal. Put on the uniform,” the robot said, and then looked at the collar, “101.” His name wasn’t 101.

The robot released the boy and returned to the front.

The boy closed his eyes and removed his shirt, then his pants, hoping no one was watching. He slipped  into the uniform quickly. That uniform, it made his skin itch. But it was his only possession.