My eyes are wide open when the bell chimes loudly signalling the night is over and a new day has come. Numerous groans erupt around me and people toss and turn in their sheets refusing to leave the comfort of their beds.

The bell is high pitched and extremely annoying but today it buzzes in my ear from a distance, it feels like I am on another planet. I am unable to move. After barely getting a wink of sleep last night, my limbs are heavy with fatigue and my thoughts are a jumbled mess.

Every time I tried to close my eyes last night I saw those dry blue lips of that lifeless boy in the cart. How many times have I seen someone die here? How many times would it take for me to get used to it?

There are people who do not even blink anymore when a slave drops dead. Mira is one of them and I can't decide if she is strong or weak for not having emotions. Or maybe she does but it's bottled up somewhere deep inside. I hope that is the case because to be emotionless is Plutonian and I cannot think of anything worse.

Today I turn eighteen and the death of that boy feels like a knife twisting in my gut. Even though my stomach is empty it feels heavy, like I have swallowed a tonne of bricks. I should be thankful, unlike that boy I have survived yet another day, another year on this blistering cold, dust laden planet but I feel empty.

It is only on my birthdays that I ever allow myself to think of my family and my life on Earth before I was brought here.

Every year the memories diminish further, as if my body is fighting to keep away the pain that wraps it's hands around my heart and squeezes without mercy. Today I imagine the pixelated faces of my father and mother. The sun shines brightly behind them, drowning out faces that I barely remember but the memory is warm and it fills my heart with a longing that I do not want to feel.

I sit up gingerly pushing all thoughts of them and Earth out of my mind. I can't decide which is more painful, remembering or forgetting them.

The other slaves are standing by their beds with their towels and toiletries in hands. A few of them look my way, some in pity, some in annoyance. The alarm is connected to sensors on each of our beds and as long as one of us remains in bed it will continue to ring.

I grab the bar and pull myself up. I hadn't been able to eat dinner last night and now I regret it. Today is a big day for me and it didn't serve me at all to punish myself for the death of another. Yes, he was dead but me not eating wasn't going to affect anyone but myself.

I swallow any bitterness lingering in my throat. Today is the day my mission starts. I have to be strong, not just for myself but for every other slave who has died here in vain.

I shower and get dressed quickly. I join the line that has formed just outside our quarters and walk to the cafeteria for breakfast. As we walk in our numbers are read out loud and I lift my sleeve so that my number can be scanned by the machine in the door.

"Number 7203, present," A mechanical female voice announces and I walk through soundlessly.

I pick up a tray and take the food served by the kitchen slaves. When a slave is "lucky" enough to have lived till they are in their old age they are transferred to kitchen duties. It is supposed to be easier and less taxing than working on the field but one look at the kitchen lady's burnt fingers tells me otherwise.

I walk to a random table and take a seat. The cafeteria soon fills up but I eat in silence, not bothering to make conversation with those around me.

"Happy birthday 7203." A whisper startles me and I look up from the mashed processed lump on my tray.

A young girl with bright red hair neatly tucked behind her ears smiles at me before she sets her tray down and takes a seat.

I recognize her but I am too stunned to smile. She sleeps a few beds away from me and we have traveled to the south together before but we have barely exchanged a handful of words so it surprises me that she has remembered my birthday.

This is probably the most affection I have received in years and a lump forms in my throat and I force myself not to cry. Luckily the bell rings just in time and we all stand for our daily pledge.

Grateful for the distraction I say the words that I don't mean loud and clearly.

A loud Plutonian voice blares from the speakers guiding us from word to word.

"We, humans are forever thankful for the mercy shown upon us and our planet. We thank our ancestors for inhabiting our planet during the dark ages and bringing Earth to its full glory today. We thank the Plutonians for giving rise to our species, for without their colonization we would not exist. We are honored to have been chosen to serve our creators for the rest of our lives. We pledge our allegiance to the Plutonian Empire, the rulers of the Galaxy and the creators of human kind. We are proud to be at your disposal."

The more I say those words, the angrier I get because I am not proud to be at their disposal and I do not serve them by choice.

According to Plutonian scriptures, the Plutonian race, a highly advanced civilization colonized almost all inhabitable planets in our solar system millions of years ago.

It was during the Ice Age that Plutonians inhabited Earth, hoping to build a base there but they were unsatisfied with the environment and at the time there were other better prospects for a military base.

So instead, they dumped all the traitorous and unwanted Plutonians on Earth, thinking they would die there eventually. However, those Plutonians colonized the planet and slowly brought Earth and its inhabitants into the golden age of technology and advancement which is the Earth we were born in.

Due to the reduced oxygen content, sun exposure and warmer temperature, the Plutonian descendants became smaller, their skin darker and thinner, more fragile. Variations in eye and hair color were apart of evolution and a new species was eventually formed.

Humans.

When the original Plutonians found out about this treacherous occurrence a million Earth years later they were furious and they wanted to destroy Earth as revenge on their ancestors. The humans begged for mercy and made a pact with the Plutonians.

Every year they could take five hundred humans back to Pluto as slaves and to rebuild their diminishing population.

This is what I have been told since the day I arrived here. It is a pledge that has divided us slaves and made most of us untrustworthy.

I have always believed the scriptures were made to brainwash us but most slaves do not think that way. When I was thirteen I told my then best friend Stela that I wanted to escape. I was punished the very next day, placed far in the South with my bare back exposed to the blistering cold. It was only thirty seconds but the exposed skin necrosed and had to be removed and surgically altered once I was back. My back has never looked the same since.

The only reason my life was spared was because they were lacking manpower at the time.

As if by instinct my eyes find Stela in the crowd. Unlike most of us, she is jovial and laughing while she eats her food. Her pale skin and bleach blond hair makes her more Plutonian than the rest of us and I know she is proud of it. She turned eighteen this week too and I can guess what her choice is going to be.

I am about to finish my food when the speakers blare once again.

All the names announced kindly make your way to the human affairs office in the square.

A few numbers are announced and then I hear my own. I get up and am surprised to see the girl who wished me stand up as well. She must have turned eighteen this week as well.

There are only a handful of us and we move swiftly not wanting to irritate the officers that stand by the walls.

The human affairs office is a small building located a few yards from our quarters. A glider train waits for us outside the cafeteria and takes us to the front entrance. We walk in and are made to wait in a small room with benches on all sides.

I take a seat and Stela sits across from me. She narrows her eyes when she catches me glaring at her.

After a few minutes a relatively short Plutonian walks in and gives us a small briefing.

They will call us by our numbers and one by one we will walk into the next room and tick the box of our choosing. There will be three boxes. A tick in the first box would mean we choose hard labor, a tick in the second box would mean we choose to fight in the pits for a chance to join the army and a tick in the last box would mean we choose to become a Plutonian's paramour.

Once we have given our choice we must immediately exit the building and go back to work. Those who have chosen the second two options will be relocated to different quarters later at night.

We nod our heads and while the others whisper about their decisions I remain silent. I realize my hands are shaking when a hand goes over mine. I look up into the green eyes of the girl who wished me happy birthday.

"Happy birthday," I mouth to her and I squeeze her hand as the nerves get to me. There is nothing happy about today but there is something satisfying about having a choice in my fate.

They call her number and she leaves soon after. The absence of her hand in mine makes my palms sweaty. I wonder what she has chosen.

"I'm guessing you are going to choose to remain a slave," Stela's voice pierces the cold air like a knife and I see her cold calculating eyes fixed on my face.

"And I don't need to guess your choice," I reply bluntly, eager to end the conversation. Her tongue darts out and I am reminded of the blue serpents we sometimes find on the tracks. Cold and deadly poisonous.

She smiles knowingly, looking pleased with herself. It is just like her, ever ready to please the Plutonians. If they were to hit her until she died, she would bleed to death with a smile on her face.

"I think it's the only logical choice for you. I mean who would want to bed you? You are dark and undesirable and too skinny to fight a blue fly," She chides and I ignore her. If anything she is jealous of my color.

Most of the slaves have lost their color to the cold, persistently gloomy weather but some of us retained it. My skin is fair but it is not ghostly white like most of us and it is something we both know the Plutonians find desirable.

Thankfully, my number is called and I do not have to listen to her for another merciless minute.

I enter the brightly lit room and see a translucent table in the center.

The number 7203 is displayed on the screen in the table and my face floats on top of it.

I am instructed to place my finger tip on a small green dot. It reads my finger print and immediately the screen changes and three boxes appear.

The first box has the word 'Industrious' written on top with a picture of a human figure bent over carrying a bag over its back. The second box has the word 'Bravery' plastered at the top with a figure posed in mid combat, it's right hand held above its head, holding a spear and the last box displays the word 'Procreation'. Right below it sits a figure holding a bundle close to its chest. I look closely and realize that the bundle is actually a baby.

"Place your finger and tick the future of your choice," A voice resonates from the screen.

I swallow my nerves and lift my finger but it freezes in the air. A rush of fear runs through me as I wonder if I am making the right choice. Will I be strong enough or will I fail and die like so many others? Or should I choose the safer option and remain helpless forever.

A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and the voice repeats itself. There is no time for second thoughts.

I bring my finger down and tick the box of my choice. I then leave the room with my heart hammering in my chest.

Fun fact (Okay I dont know about fun but it's interesting): Pluto rotates much more slowly than Earth so a day on Pluto is much longer than a day on Earth. A day on Pluto is 6.4 Earth days or hours long.

Anyway thank you for reading. If you liked the chapter please vote/comment and share this story, your support means alot :) :)