I study the way the sunlight passes through the glass, shedding rays across the cold, hard floor. The outside world looks so cheerful and welcoming compared to the reality of this unremarkable doctor’s office. I lean back against the wall on a steel table and wait. The ticking clock on the wall does little to ease my anxiety.

    The door opens and a short man with small eyes and a pudgy face enters. He smells like soap and disinfectant. “Walters, Violet?” He asks, reading from a clipboard.

    “Yes.” My voice is small and quiet. He pulls a stool up to the table.

    “And you’re here for a…” he checks his papers, “scan.”

    “Correct.”

    “Follow me.” He guides me out of the room, through a hallway, and into a bigger room with a massive machine in the middle of the room. He instructs me to get inside of the machine, a rather large glass tube that reflects me, big-eyed and small in my hospital gown.

    I step inside the machine, placing my palms on the cool, thick glass. A multitude of wires emerge from panels inside the machine and latch onto my arms, legs, back, and head. I squirm uncomfortably.

    “The doctor will be here shortly after the scan is conducted.” The man says in a very bored tone.

     The government has made these scans necessary due to the recent emergence of freaks that have been causing disruptions like robberies, assassinations, and anti-Establishment behavior. However, no cause of the mutations is known. The authorities promise “conversion therapy” for any freaks who can prove that they love the Establishment. I think that these policies are perfectly fair. No one should try and bring down a government, much less one that puts its people first.

    I feel sharp pains all over my body and an assistant opens the tube briefly to inject something in my arm with a sharp needle. This makes my head spin and pound and I struggle not to vomit. After what I feel is an eternity, the assistant leads me to a chair and introduces me to the doctor.

     “Violet, how are you feeling?” The doctor is middle aged and very handsome, with a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

    “Bad.” I croak. My head feels better, but my throat feels like I’ve been screaming for hours.

    “That’s to be expected.” He answers. “My name is Dr. Jennings. The serum we gave you is supposed to help us spot any mutations.”

    “Okay.” I rub my head with my fist.

     “Let’s get a look at these results.” He pulls some papers out of a folder. He motions for the assistant to leave.

     His brow furrows as he examines the papers. “Violet, I’m sorry, but it seems you have a mutation in your upper to mid back area. We’re going to have to start conversion therapy as soon as we can. Luckily, it isn’t in multiple places.”

    My eyes fill with tears. “I’m not anti-Establishment! I love the Establishment! Long live unity and prosperity!”

    “I don’t doubt you. We should start therapy very soon. Right now, actually. Follow me. My eyes catch a glimpse of a mass of muscle or something under my skin on one of the papers in his folder. I reach around a touch my back. I notice a slight hump that I didn’t notice before. I panic and begin to shake. I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what is going to happen.

     Finally, we arrive at a large chamber with drab, thick walls, a series of areas sectioned off by curtains, and harsh fluorescent lights. The sounds of beeping machines causes my anxiety to build. I’m led to a bed and a nurse plunges a needle into my arm and everything spins and fades to black.

   Weeks pass and the excruciating pain in my back grows. The hump underneath my back makes it impossible to lay on my back. The nurses give me shots and fluids to keep me from becoming sicker. The pain in my back keeps me from leaving, even if I could leave.

    One night, a stranger steps into my room and twists the IV to prevent it from giving me medicine. I’m so weak that it’s difficult to move or resist.

    “Shh…” the person shushes me. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t alert them.”

    My mouth feels like it’s full of molasses.

    His face is covered with a hood and he doesn’t meet my eyes.

    “I’m saving you. You have to let me.”

    I shake my head and move away.

    “I’m saving you from the Establishment. You don’t know what they’re going to do to you.” He looks at my back, the hump very noticeable after such a long time. “I know what mutation you have. You have wings. Did they tell you that? Did they tell you that they’re going to cut them off whenever you mature?”

    “No…” my mouth struggles. “No.”

    “That’s exactly what they’re going to do.”

    I shake my head.

    He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket and points to his skin. It’s covered in a patchwork of scars and ruts. “I had spikes. They pulled every spike out even after I told them I supported the Establishment. They experimented on me afterwards to see if they would grow back. I escaped, luckily.”

    I stare at him.

    “Look…” he pulls up his other sleeve, and I see small bumps along his arm. “They are coming back. But, if they cut your wings off, you might die.”

    I wince as a wave of pain washes over me.

    “We have to go now. Your wings are going to emerge soon. It’s kind of like being a caterpillar. When you start molting, we can’t be here. Can you walk?”

    I decide to go with him. I’m not willing to put my life on the line for a surgery I don’t want. I don’t trust these people. Maybe it’s the pain, but I don’t want to stay here. I nod, hoping that I can walk.

    He unhooks the wires and IV and helps me to my feet. He hands me a bottle of something and orders me to drink it, telling me that it will help me become more lucid. I chug it and grimace.

    He leads me down the hallway, up a few flight of stairs, and finally, to the roof. My back is sending waves of pain throughout my body. Each breath comes as a struggle.

    “They will notice that you’re gone really soon. I launched a virus that will disrupt their network, but it won’t work forever.” He says. “My friend should be here soon.”

   A couple minutes later, the deafening noise of a helicopter fills my ears and whips my hair around my head. A ladder is thrown down from it and the stranger pushes me forward and we scramble up it. The doorway to the roof flies open, and some of the security staff runs out, holding guns.

     “Freeze!” One of them yells. They point a missile launcher in the direction of the helicopter.

    The helicopter starts to fly away with us halfway up the ladder. I watch as a missile makes it way towards us, and suddenly, a wall of red energy forms in between us and the missile. The missile slams into the wall and explodes, causing a deafening noise and a wave of heat to wash over us.

    I look up, and see an elderly man standing with his hands, glowing red, facing outwards.

    “Looks like we’ve got fresh meat!” The man laughs, looking down at me. 

    We fly to a base of some kind, as a flurry of lightning bolts lights up the sky. The building is abandoned and empty.

    “She can’t go much farther, this’ll have to do.” My rescuer informs the others. The pain is unbearable and I barely made it up the ladder.

    I black out in the darkness of the empty building.

    I unfold my wings, flapping them, once twice, and stirring up a light breeze. It’s been nearly two years since my wings emerged. My wings are charcoal grey and speckled with gold. They’re pretty hard to hide, but not impossible.

    We’ve gotten closer to our goal of bringing down the Establishment. Our ranks have grown immensely as our rescue operations have increased.

    I stand on the ledge of a building, looking down over the city. The sight of a mural on a building catches my eye. It shows two hands intertwined with the message “The Establishment brings unity and prosperity”. I shake my head and laugh.

    “You will fall. The very things you tried to destroy will destroy you. Long live the revolution!” I shout. My voice gets lost in the wind pushing up against the building. However, it doesn’t matter. A revolution is coming. The idea is already out there.

    I jump off the ledge, my wings flapping against the blue sky. I glide over buildings and streets, savoring the wind on my feathers. I don’t care if they see me, I’m not going down without a fight. And, that’s exactly what they’re going to get.