Summary:

I look up to see the grand panel, sitting at their high tables whispering to each other, deciding my fate. It's September 13th 2050, the day my life could end, or begin.   The one old, balding, grouchy guy stood up and started speaking. He didn't have to speak that loud since the room was empty, well besides the tall tables and me so his voice bounced off the walls. “Oliver Smith the panel has decided and you will be ….” I blacked out trying to process the rest of what he had just said. I knew it was going to be bad but not this bad. It all ended badly.  This all started about a week ago, last Monday, the start of a new school week. Everyone was happy and excited about the new week and what it could hold, just like every week, Mondays bring out the happy in people. But then again it might just be the pills.