White Soup. Chapter 1.

There were only five of us left on level 27.

No one knew exactly how many levels this building contained. It's shiny metal window frames and the tall searing glass panes contained within them stretched up into the sky forever.

The recreation room seemed particularly empty with its myriad of tables, chairs, couches, and gaming stations. Scattered pieces from a variety of different games had been abandoned here and there.

Bert, Bart, Barney, Beth and I had pulled a long wooden rectangular table up against the largest window in the room. We now sat huddled against it, each of us pressed tightly into a tiny black conference chair.

My name is Beatrice. I don't know if that was my name originally. I doubt it. It would be too much of a coincidence that every single person on level 27 had a name that started with that innocuous letter B.

Beautiful!

Bullshit.

Source: Pixabay.com

We never questioned anything. Why would we?

I was brought here out of the goodness of their heart. My parents had died in a horrible plane crash and I had nowhere else to go.

So they tell me.

An unknown disease is spreading all across the world. It's affecting everybody's memories. No one is safe. We must stay together.

I was made a member of Team 27. I still remember the day that I was accepted by the other recruits. Barry helped me put on my white and red striped windbreaker. It was a bit tight in the chest area, but I felt proud to wear it. I was part of something now.

The 27th floor belonged to Team 27. They kept groups of people on individual floors due to the memory issue. They didn't want anyone to get lost.

Level 27 was a great floor. It had an indoor swimming pool, a giant gaming room, several sets of showers, and an incredibly comfortable rest area. In fairness though, I had never seen any of the other floors so I couldn't compare them. I didn't even remember the ride up to this one.

There must have been an elevator, but I can't say for sure.

It was comforting to talk to my other teammates because we were all suffering from the same affliction. They say the whole world is slowly forgetting itself. I don't like to think about it.

All of us are teenagers between the ages of 14 and 20. At least we were. Everyone left is apparently the same age. 18 years old. Is that significant? I'd have to ask Anderson. I hadn't seen him in a long time though.

Bart and Bert complained of being hungry. They were both cut from the same cloth. Tall, muscular, crew cut. They look like they could have belonged to some sort of organization whose name I'm supposed to know. I have an image of stripes and green uniforms in my mind, but the name escapes me. I might have imagined it.

They were right though. We hadn't eaten since yesterday. There was quite a variety of different soups in the commissary. The counselors would come down once per day to feed us whichever kind we had originally chosen.

When you're first brought onto the team you are given the choice of one color for your soup. Blue, red, yellow, green, black, white, purple, pink.... there were probably about 50 more colors but I couldn't remember what they were.

I chose white just because it was the color that seemed the most like soup to me. Clam chowder maybe?

Purple soup? No thanks.

It was mostly tasteless but we were given several different types of bread each day to eat along side it. I'll say this, it was filling. That was important because after lunch we had a rather vigorous exercise routine.

It was past lunch time now though, and we hadn't seen any sign of an adult. Adults meant we could eat and I wanted my white soup right now.

If you like this story please upvote and resteem it. Upvoting and resteeming Chapter 1 of any given story will usually indicate to me that I should continue writing that series. However, when I write a Chapter 1 that doesn't catch any traction I usually go on to a different story.