The screams of infants ringed in Joan’s ears as she applied the black numbered tattoo onto a squirming child's wrist. 9 • 10 • 3X4 marked the Expiration Date. She read the number in her head once more. She finished the ink on the wriggling child and released it back to the awaiting mother assigned to the infant. “Thank you Ms. Sol.” The mother replied as she handed over the child, cold and monotonous. She responded with a slight warm smile to brighten up the already bleak room with at least some sort of warmth. The woman and child departed through the clear glass door that guarded her office from the many other just like it. Although on the outside it was the same as the rest, hers had a sort of colour you wouldn't see if you were only using your eyes. When she finally found herself alone she immediately took off her black sleeve to reveal the shiny steel arm underneath. She gazed at it with disgust. She couldn't show it in public without a glare or a few remarks, and surely didn't want anyone to find out. She jumped at the buzzing of the alarm from the speakers, they echoed off the walls of her small grey office. She looked out of her door to see her co- workers with their leather bound suitcases walking along down the narrow dim hallway towards the main exit. She knew that she had to follow them, but had an urge to stay. She tucked a curly brown lock of hair behind her ear, she slid back on her cover for her arm. It was time to go.