EXPIRATION DATE

Elias froze. He stared at the photographs, unable to believe his eyes. He had never seen these people. But he felt he should know them. That their fate was tied to his. That they were part of something bigger than just news.

The announcer's voice continued:

Citizen-users! Genesis Corporation is wanted for two dangerous criminals. First - Kane-39, a fugitive clone-soldier who left corporate custody without permission. Second - Iris Vos, granddaughter of the corporation's head, who helped him escape and is now hiding with him. For information on Kane-39's whereabouts, a reward of 50,000 credits is offered. For information on Iris Vos's whereabouts - 10 million credits, provided she is captured alive. Those wishing to cooperate should contact the nearest Genesis security center. Remember: traitors deserve no mercy. Purity Coefficient is our common future.

Elias continued staring at the screen. The photographs disappeared, replaced by a new advertisement - Agro-Continent promoting a new synthesized breakfast with "natural berry flavor." He did not listen. He stared at where the faces of these two people had been.

Kane-39. Fugitive clone. Iris Vos. Granddaughter of the corporation's head. They had escaped together. They were being hunted. And he, Elias - a purger who killed such clones every morning - was now supposed to search for them if he wanted to survive.

Did you hear? - came a voice behind him.

Elias turned. Beside him stood a colleague - a man named Daniel, whom he sometimes crossed paths with at the bar. Daniel was older, with gray stubble and a glass eye he had received after a failed surgery. He looked at the screen with the same mixture of fear and curiosity as Elias.

I heard, - Elias replied. - Kane-39. Iris Vos. Traitors.

They say they're in love, - Daniel said, lowering his voice. - A clone and the boss's granddaughter. Can you imagine? They kissed under the cameras. Five minutes. Right in the lab. They managed to disable the surveillance system for five whole minutes. Idiots. Why risk it for that?

Elias was silent. He did not know what to answer. Love. The word sounded strange in his head, almost foreign. Love was a luxury. For clones - forbidden. For people like him - unattainable. He had long stopped thinking about feelings. They were just another function that lowered his PC.

Why did they need it? - he finally asked.

No idea, - Daniel replied. - Maybe they were insane. Or just didn't think. But now they're being hunted. And if they're caught, disposal awaits them. Both of them.

They fell silent. On the screen, the photographs appeared again, this time close-up. Kane-39's face was harsh, but in his eyes Elias saw the same pain he felt every day. And Iris Vos's eyes - they looked at him from the screen with such pleading that his heart clenched.

"I know you," he thought, looking at her photograph. "I don't know how I know you. But I know."

He could not explain this feeling. It was irrational, illogical, dangerous. Empathy. The very empathy that lowered his PC. The very empathy that killed him every day. He should forget her face. Should focus on his work. On the twelve clones in sector D-7. On his PC, falling with each passing day.

But he could not.

Are you coming? - Daniel asked, already walking away. - We need to get to the briefing.

Coming, - Elias replied, but his feet did not move. He stood and stared at the screen until the photographs disappeared, replaced by another Cyber-Fund advertisement. "Digital Passport 2.0 - your security in our hands," the slogan read. Elias did not believe it. He did not believe anything written on these screens.

He turned and followed Daniel. His steps were heavy, as if he carried a burden that grew heavier with each step. He thought about Kane-39 and Iris Vos. About how they had kissed under the cameras. About how they had risked everything for five minutes of happiness.

"They're idiots," he told himself. "They've ruined themselves. They won't survive. None of us survive."

But deep inside, beneath layers of fatigue and cynicism, something warm stirred. Something he had not felt in years. Hope. Stupid, irrational, dangerous hope that something could still change. That all was not lost.

He suppressed the feeling. He could not afford hope. Hope lowered his PC. Hope killed. He knew that. Knew it better than anyone.

Elias and Daniel stepped out into the street. New Tokyo-3 met them with gray skies, holographic signs, and drones silently gliding overhead. The air was synthesized, smelled of ozone and plastic. Real air only in the green zones. Elias had never been there.

You look worried, - Daniel said as they walked along the street. - Something happen?

Nothing, - Elias replied. - Just thinking. About work.

About work, - Daniel smirked. - You think too much, Hall. It's bad for your PC. Just do your job and don't ask questions. That's how everyone survives.

I know, - Elias said. - I know, Daniel. Thanks for the advice.

They parted at the intersection. Daniel walked toward sector D-5, and Elias toward D-7. The city around them was filled with people, but each was alone. Each was an asset. Each performed their function. No one told each other the truth.

Elias walked along the street, his heart beating in time with his steps. Vzh-vzh-vzh. He looked at the drones flying overhead. At their red lights, flickering on and off. At the walls of buildings covered with corporate holograms.

Above him, the screen hummed again. This time it showed Marcus Vos's face - the old man with cold blue eyes and gray hair. Elias looked at him and felt his stomach clench with nausea.

"Dear users," Marcus said. "Today I want to talk to you about betrayal. About how one person can destroy everything we have built. My granddaughter, Iris Vos, chose the path of betrayal. She helped a fugitive clone escape. She betrayed her family, her corporation, her values. But we will find her. We will find them both. And they will pay for their crimes. Remember: betrayal is not just a violation of rules. It is a violation of your nature. It is a rejection of your essence. Do not let emotions control you. Follow protocols, and you will be protected. Break the rules - and you will become consumable material. The choice is yours."

Elias looked at Marcus Vos's face and felt his hands clench into fists. He hated this man. Hated his cold eyes, his mechanical smile, his words that sounded like a sentence. But he could do nothing. He was just an asset. Just a cog in this machine.

Did you see the news? - someone asked behind him.

Elias turned. Beside him stood a woman - young, with short dark hair and a pale face. She was looking at the screen with the same expression as him.

I saw, - he replied.

She's beautiful, - the woman said. - Iris Vos. I saw her photograph. She looks like a person with a heart. A real heart.

She has one, - Elias said. - She's the boss's granddaughter. People like her have everything. Real hearts, real food, real lives.

The woman laughed shortly.

And do you think she's happy? - she asked. - Do you think she's glad she was born into this family? That she looks at her grandfather and sees a monster? She ran away because she didn't want to be part of this. She risked everything for love. Does that make her weak? Or does it make her human?

Elias was silent. He did not know the answer. He thought about what it meant to be human. What it meant to feel. What it meant to love. He had not felt anything for years. He was empty. Dead inside. But when he looked at Iris Vos's photograph, he felt something stir in his chest. Something he could not explain.

I don't know, - he finally said. - I just don't know.

Maybe, - the woman said, - we will all someday become like her. People with hearts. Or die trying.

She turned and walked away. Elias remained standing in the street, staring at the screen showing Marcus Vos's face. He thought about what the woman had said. Thought about what it meant to be human. Thought about how he had lost his humanity long ago.

"I want to be human," he thought. "I want to feel. I want to love. I want to be free."

But he knew it was impossible. That the system would not let him break free. That he would die here, in this gray city, like everyone else.

He walked on. Toward his workplace. Toward his twelve clones. Toward his death, waiting at the end of this path.

Elias approached the building where his department was located. White, glass, sterile. Like everything in this city. He stopped before the entrance and took a deep breath. The synthesized air smelled of ozone. He closed his eyes and imagined standing in a forest. That wind touched his face. That his heart beat steadily, without this cursed sound.

But when he opened his eyes, he was still here. In New Tokyo-3. In the center of corporate hell. With twelve clones waiting for him in sector D-7. With the photographs of Kane-39 and Iris Vos forever burned into his memory.

He entered the building. The foyer was crowded - dozens of purgers hurrying to their stations. They did not exchange smiles. Did not speak to each other. They were like ghosts - gray, silent, faceless.

Elias headed for the elevator. On the wall hung a screen broadcasting news. This time it showed Iris Vos's photograph close-up. Her red hair, green eyes, wide smile. She looked like a person with a future. Like someone who could change everything.

"Turn her in - and you will be free forever," read the headline.

Elias looked at her face and felt his heart beat faster. He did not want to turn her in. He wanted to help her. He wanted to be part of something bigger. He wanted to be free.

"I can't," he thought. "I'm too weak. Too tired. Just an asset."

But deep inside, somewhere, a voice whispered: "You can. You must try. Even if it changes nothing. Even if you die. You must try."

He looked away from the screen and entered the elevator. The doors closed behind him, and he was alone in the white cabin. He looked at his reflection in the metal wall and thought about what he had just seen.

"She escaped," he thought. "She risked everything for love. She did what I cannot do. She told the system 'no.' She left. She is free."

He closed his eyes. Her face appeared before him again. Her smile. Her red hair. He wanted to be near her. He wanted to be as brave. He wanted to be human.

The elevator stopped. Doors opened, letting in light and corridor sounds. Elias stepped out and walked toward his office. He knew work awaited him. His twelve clones awaited him. Death awaited him. But now, in this moment, he thought only of one thing: freedom.

"I must find her," he thought. "I must find Iris Vos. I must help her. Not for the reward. But to change something. To prove I am still human."

He stepped into his office. On the desk lay the day's work plan. Twelve clones in sector D-7. Time: 09:00. He looked at the plan and smiled. For the first time in years, he smiled genuinely.

"Today I won't kill them," he thought. "Today I'll do something different. Today I'll change my life."

He left the office and headed for the elevator. He needed to go to sector D-7. But he was not going to kill. He was going to talk. He was going to help. He was going to be human.

Elias entered the elevator taking him to the lower levels, where sector D-7 was located. The elevator was old, with metal walls covered in layers of peeling paint. Here, on the lower levels, the system was not so perfect. There were cracks in the walls, dirt in the corners, the smell of dampness and chemicals. This was the world the corporation did not show in its holograms. The world where clones lived.

Elias stood in the corner of the elevator, looking at his reflection in the metal wall and thinking about what he was about to do. He was about to break the rules. He was about to refuse his work. He was about to become a traitor. Like Iris Vos. Like Kane-39.

"I want to be a traitor," he thought. "I want to be free."

The elevator stopped. Doors opened, and he stepped into the corridor. The corridor was long, dark, with dim lamps flickering in time with the ventilation hum. The walls were dirty, with stains that could have been anything - rust, mold, blood.

Elias walked along the corridor. Behind every door were clones. He knew them - they were his work. But today he was not going to kill them. Today he was going to talk to them.

He stopped at the first door. On it was a sign: "Clone No. 1. Expiration date: expired." Elias raised his hand and knocked.

Who's there? - came a voice from inside.

Elias Hall, - he replied. - Corrector.

I know who you are, - said the voice. - You've come to kill me?

Elias paused.

No, - he said. - I've come to talk.

Why?

Because I want to change my life, - he said. - I want to be human.

Silence inside. Then the door opened. In the doorway stood a man - young, pale, with black hair and dark eyes. He was a clone. He was consumable material. But he looked at Elias with the same mixture of fear and hope that Elias felt himself.

Let's talk, - said the clone.

Elias stepped out of the elevator onto the floor where the head of department's office was located. This floor was different from all the others - clean, bright, sterile. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. No cracks, no dirt, no stains. Here it smelled not of ozone and chemicals, but of something else - artificial freshness sprayed by air purifiers. This was the floor for managers. For those who stood one step above people like him.

Elias walked along the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. There were no crowds of users, no ventilation hum, no elevator noise. Only silence. The kind that pressed on the ears. He felt like a stranger in this place. As if he had entered a sanctuary where he did not belong.

He stopped before a massive glass door. Behind it - the head of department's office. J.S. The man who managed his life, his work, his fate. The man who decided whether he lived or died.

Elias raised his hand to knock, but the door opened by itself. The glass panel slid silently aside, and he stepped inside. The office was huge - fifty meters, at least. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. A huge glass desk, behind which sat the head. Behind him - a panoramic window overlooking the city. From here, from this level, New Tokyo-3 looked beautiful. Skyscrapers shone, holograms shimmered, drones looked like small shiny dots. Elias had never seen this view. And he knew he would never see it again.

Hall, - came a voice. Sharp, dry, emotionless. - You're three minutes late.

Elias shifted his gaze to the head. J.S. sat behind the glass desk, looking at him through the transparent surface. He was a man of about fifty, with short gray hair and equally gray eyes. His face showed no expression - only a slight smirk, the kind that appears on people accustomed to power. His skin was unnaturally smooth - modified. Elias noticed immediately. Eyes slightly brighter than ordinary people. Skin without wrinkles. A body that looked too strong for his age. J.S. was a modified person. He was one who could afford enhancements.

I'm sorry, sir, - Elias said, trying to keep his voice steady. - I was delayed in the cafeteria.

The cafeteria, - J.S. repeated. - You linger in the cafeteria while your PC is falling. Is that smart? No. It's stupid. You cannot afford to be stupid, Hall. You have no resource for stupidity.

Elias was silent. He knew arguing was useless. J.S. never listened to excuses. He only looked at numbers. Only at efficiency. Only at protocols.

Sit, - the head said, indicating the chair before the desk.

Elias sat. The chair was soft - too soft for such a place. He felt uncomfortable, as if sitting on a cloud that could disappear at any moment.

J.S. picked up a tablet from the desk and swiped his finger across the screen.

Today you have twelve defects in sector D-7, - he said. - You saw the work plan?

Yes, sir.

And what do you think?

Elias paused. He did not know what to answer. Usually he just nodded and agreed. But today something had changed. Today he did not want to be obedient.

I think, sir, - he said slowly, - that twelve is a lot.

J.S. raised an eyebrow. His face remained impassive, but something like interest flickered in his eyes.

A lot? - he repeated. - Are you saying you can't handle it?

I'm saying, sir, - Elias replied, - that twelve clones is too many for one person. Even if they are defective. Even if their expiration date has passed.

J.S. smirked. Short, without warmth.

Hall, - he said, - you've been working for the corporation for ten years. You know the rules. You know the protocols. You know what's required of you. Twelve is the norm. You've handled more. Remember? Last year you had fifteen. And nothing. You survived.

Last year I was younger, - Elias said.

We all get older, - J.S. replied. - That's no excuse.

He put the tablet on the desk and looked directly at Elias. His gray eyes were cold as ice.

Hall, - he said, - your PC is falling. You know that? You know that the critical level is 65%? And you know that if you fall below that, you become consumable material?

I know, sir.

Then why are you arguing? Why waste time? If you don't handle the work, your PC will fall even faster. Do you want to become consumable material?

Elias was silent. He wanted to say no, but the words stuck in his throat. Because he did not know if he wanted to live. Because the life he lived was not life. It was existence. And he did not know which was worse - to die now or to continue this endless torment.

I don't want to become consumable material, - he finally said.

Then do your job, - J.S. replied. - Don't ask questions. Don't doubt. Just do it. That's the only way to survive.

He reached out and pressed a button on the desk. A hologram lit up in the room - a three-dimensional image of sector D-7. Elias saw corridors, rooms, capsules with clones. Each capsule was marked with a red dot - "defect. Disposal."

Here are your twelve, - J.S. said. - Clones. Expiration date passed. They are not needed by the corporation. Your task is to dispose of them. Quickly, cleanly, efficiently. Without emotions. Without compassion. Just work.

Elias looked at the hologram. He saw the capsules. He saw the clones inside. They looked like people. Like people just like him. But the system said they were not people. That they were assets. That they could be disposed of like trash.

I understand, sir, - he said.

Good, - J.S. replied. - Then go. You have two hours. If you don't make it - I'll record it as a protocol violation. And your PC will drop another two percent.

He turned off the hologram. The room became empty and white again. Elias stood and walked toward the exit.

Hall, - J.S. said behind him.

Elias turned.

Remember, - the head said, - your heart belongs to the corporation. If you don't handle it - we'll take it back. And give it to someone more efficient.

Elias looked at him. At his gray eyes. At his modified skin. At his cold smile.

I remember, sir, - he said.

He left the office. The glass door closed silently behind him. Elias remained standing in the corridor, staring at the white walls. His heart beat steadily. Vzh-vzh-vzh. And he thought about what the head had just said.

"Your heart belongs to the corporation," he remembered. "If you don't handle it - we'll take it back."

Elias looked at his chest. Beneath the jumpsuit, beneath the skin, hid a mechanical module. Fifth model. Produced by Genesis. Expiration date - ten years. It had been working for nine. One year left. One year until his heart wore out. One year until he became consumable material.

"Today I'll ask for a replacement," he automatically told himself.

But he knew he would not ask. Because replacement cost half a year's salary. Because his PC was too low to apply. Because he was too tired to fight.

He walked to the elevator. To sector D-7. To his twelve clones. To his work. And his face showed no expression. Only fatigue. Only acceptance. Only emptiness.

The elevator descended to the lower levels. Elias stood in the corner, watching the numbers flash on the panel: 15, 14, 13. With each level, the air grew heavier, the smell of dampness stronger. Here, on the lower levels, the system was different. There were no holograms, no advertising, no perfect cleanliness. Here there was dirt, rust, and the smell of death.

He stepped out of the elevator. The corridor was dark, with dim lamps flickering in time with the ventilation hum. The walls were covered in layers of old paint, peeling away to reveal rusted metal beneath. The floor was sticky with something he did not want to identify.

Elias walked along the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He took out his terminal and opened the assignment file. Twelve clones. Names, expiration dates, coordinates. He scrolled through the list, feeling his stomach clench.

"Clone No. 1. Name: unknown. Expiration date: expired 3 days ago. Reason: biological wear. Coordinates: room 4."

"Clone No. 2. Name: unknown. Expiration date: expired 5 days ago. Reason: system failure. Coordinates: room 7."

He continued reading. Each clone was a person. Someone with hopes, dreams, feelings. But the system called them "defects." The system said they needed to be disposed of. And he carried out this task every day, without thinking.

"Clone No. 12. Name: unknown. Expiration date: expired 2 days ago. Reason: organ failure. Coordinates: room 39."

Elias stopped. Room number - 39. Kane-39. Same number. Coincidence? Or was the system mocking him?

He closed the file and put away his terminal. His hands trembled. He did not know why. Maybe from cold. Maybe from fear. Maybe from what he felt.

Just do it, - he told himself. - Just do it, Hall. It's your job. It's your life. Just do it.

He walked on. To room 4. To his first clone.

He opened the door. The room was small - three by three meters. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. Just like his capsule-apartment. In the corner stood a sleep capsule. Just like his. Inside lay a clone.

Elias stepped closer. The clone was a man - young, with pale skin and short dark hair. He was thin, almost transparent, with bluish veins visible through his skin. His eyes were closed. He was unconscious - or dead. Elias checked his terminal. "Status: active. Condition: critical. Expiration date: expired. Recommended: disposal."

Elias raised his taser. He looked at the clone's face. At his calm expression. At his closed eyes. He thought about how this person had once been like him. Had hopes, dreams, feelings. Also wanted to live.

"I can't," he thought. "I can't kill him. I can't do this again."

But he knew he had to. That if he refused, his PC would fall. That if he refused, he would become consumable material. That if he refused, his heart would be shut off.

He raised the taser. His hand trembled. He looked at the clone and felt tears rise to his eyes. He had not cried for years. But now, looking at this defenseless face, he felt his eyes fill with moisture.

I'm sorry, - he said. - I'm sorry I can't save you. I'm sorry I'm weak.

He pulled the trigger. The taser made a soft sound, and the clone flinched. Then his body went limp. He was dead.

Elias turned away. He could not look at him. Could not look at what he had just done.

"Twelve," he thought. "Twelve like him. Twelve lives I must take. This is my job. This is my life. This is all I have."

He left the room and walked to the next one. His steps were heavy, as if he carried a burden that grew heavier with each step.

"I want to be human," he thought. "I want to feel. I want to love. I want to be free."

But he knew it was impossible. That he was too weak. Too tired. Just an asset.

He opened the next door.

Elias entered the next room. It was the same as the first - white, empty, with a sleep capsule in the corner. Inside lay the second clone. A woman. Young, with short dark hair and pale skin. She was alive - her chest rose and fell slowly. She looked at him, and there was fear in her eyes.

You've come to kill me? - she asked.

Elias froze. He had not expected her to speak. Had not expected her to look at him. Had not expected her to be afraid.