They were a right real sight, those new masks the government had issued. All sleek and shiny and real. They felt more real than the old ones we'd been wearing, those plastic-like things that just covered your nose and mouth.
That used to be all you needed, so said the news anyway. Just cover up when outside or in a shop and you'd be safe from…well…I shouldn't have to tell you. But they changed their minds on that, like they changed their minds on the distance we had to keep apart.
I'm not one of those loony radicals that wanna breathe when they go out to the shops—I just want some consistency with the rules I have to follow. It's hard to keep up, I mean how will I know I'm safe if I'm not following the proper rules? Listen to me, going off on a rant when you don't really care about the old masks anymore.
Turns out the old masks weren't enough.
Sometimes it feels like nothing will ever be enough.
That's why they made these new masks.
All flash and shiny like, it covers the whole face. Don't get me wrong, you've got your nostril holes under the bump where your nose slots in. Though no mouth hole, so you can't speak in it—but why would you need to, all you gonna do is go out to the shops. Don't need to speak for that, really most people don't need to speak at all, I think—but if you say stuff like that then you get looks in the street, even from the non loonies. Of course, that was back when you could read people's faces in the street—to be honest, I'm a bit glad that's over now.
Sorry, lost my train of thought there, what was I saying? Oh yes, the new masks had eyes slots—don't get me wrong—we still need to see where we're going, but even those were protected. They had small screens on 'em.
Very Flash.
I put it on, just after I'd taken it out of the box—I know, I know, you're only really supposed to put it on when you're going outside. But I wanted to see how I looked in it.
Young.
That's how I looked, young. You couldn't see my wrinkled face anymore, just the plain white surface of the mask. I hadn't looked this good in years, and looking at myself in the mirror that day with my new featureless face, I almost wished I had somewhere to go in it.
But you don't wanna hear about an old woman's fantasies, do you? Naw, you wanna know what I saw that day in the shop well, hold on young man, I'm getting to it. I wish you would wear a mask, it's so much more comforting for the witness, you know.
***
I was so excited when I opened my cupboards that day and realised, that I didn't have anything to eat for lunch. I could go out to the shops and I could wear my mask where everyone could see it. Don't get me wrong, I'd been wearing it indoors—but there's only so long you can do that before your husband starts giving you funny looks.
Of course, my husband can't leave the house anymore because the sight of so many masks gives him panic attacks, and leaves him convulsing on the ground in agony. So, maybe everyone doesn't have that kind of experience.
Still, it was great to get out of the house.
Before, with the old masks, you'd still see a couple of people on the street with their faces bared to the elements. Weren't exactly illegal you see, and there are some people you find Mister Officer Sir, that will push the bounds of what's proper if the law don't tell 'em to give way to society. But this time love, oh there wasn't a face in sight.
Everyone had their mask on. Stepping out on the street, it was like a sea of white faces. Just like how I always used to dream it would be, you understand. I know, I know, I'm going on again about stuff that doesn't really matter to you. But I think it's important that you understand what I felt like when I stepped into that ratty little corner shop.
I felt happy.
I felt like finally the world was turning round to my way of thinking.
But most of all, Mr. Policeman Sir, I felt safe.
Safer, than I did in my own bed, sometimes.
These masks, they did that for me—weren't their fault someone brought a gun into that stupid little shop that day. Weren't their fault somebody died.
***
I wouldn't have even gone into that shop that day, if my stupid husband hadn't finished the last of the coffee beans the night before. They don't sell our kind in the big supermarket chains anymore, I have no idea why—all I know is that that cramped little shop run by the Pakistani man two doors down from us, sells my brand of coffee.
I usually hate going in there, everyone hates me in there. They hate me because I'm strong and won't take any of their bullshit. Sometimes I really have to yell at them, but they force me to you know—I mean what kind of person won't wear a mask indoors? That Sharon tart that works the tills when the old man is laid out in the back—from the drink no doubt—says she can't wear one. Something about a sexual assault and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, please she's shagged half the men in the city. If one of them took liberties, I'm sure she brought it on herself. Whatever, it's no excuse to put me in danger—just because she can't get over herself.
But today, even she was wearing that new mask—the government's made them compulsory don't you know. I can't see their faces, or their looks with this new mask. Even with the old ones, as needed as I'm sure we all found them, they still kept the top of your face opened to anything. Certainly, open to the glares I received, it's like they didn't appreciate me for the service I'd given to my community.
Do you know how many people I've gotten to wear a mask, a lot of them, Sir. A lot, more than even those scientists up at Downing Street could count. I ought to receive a bloody award—not a slut's condemnation.
Sorry, Love, off topic again—sometimes I don't know where my mind leads me to on these rants of mine. But, yes, you're right I need to stay focused.
There were five people in the shop when he fired the gun.
I remember I was standing at the till—waiting for the girl to finish beeping through my six tons of coffee and an avocado. Don't ask me, the husband wanted to try it but personally I've never trusted green vegetables. I assume it was the usual tart, but because she wore the new sleek mask, I couldn't see her face at all. I couldn't even hear her voice, because you can't speak in these things—something I'm sure people will complain about, but really, it's a blessing in disguise for some people. I remember she'd just put the old wrinkled oval thing in my shopping bag—I use my own you know, sew 'em myself—when that man came in the store. Well, I assume it was a man but again because of the mask I couldn't exactly tell from his face or his voice.
She handed me back the bag and I recall I was turning to leave, my back to her when he took that silver thing out of his jacket and fired it at a man stocking the shelves. I'm not sure whether it was the Pakistani himself or one of his litter, but he lay on the ground not moving. He must have been dead from the bullet, because the other one, the one with the gun stood over him and kicked him a bit. I think the girl beside the door tried to get the thing open and make a run for it, but he shot her too.
I was too scared to move, and I couldn't scream—I never thought it would be hard to breathe in a mask before, but that just shows you how panicked I was Mister Office, sir. I wasn't thinking clearly. You have to understand I would never have done what I did in normal circumstances, I'm a good honest citizen. I've campaigned for harsher laws on the maskless, I've always worn a mask outside my house when the government asked it of me.
So, you have to understand when I took my mask off then, I only did it because I wasn't thinking. My animal instincts had taken over and I just…I just wanted to breathe. A stupid thing, and I'll hate myself to the end of my days for it but it was an honest mistake and you can't…you can't lock an old woman up for that surely.
***
That's when it happened, sir. That's when he shot the body again and something, something happened that I didn't think I'd see so soon. I'd read the pamphlet that came with my new mask you understand. Most people don't do that, even pro-maskers are too busy with their own fast lives to read something that could save them. But that's not me, I read every word, from front, middle and back. So, I knew what was happening when that man on the floor's mask lit up all red.
I knew what he was infected with. I tried to get my mask back on then sir, just like you're supposed to—for the life of me I don't know why I didn't bring a backup old mask. You know, just in case—just to feel extra safe today. I suppose the new shininess of the mask just lured me into a false sense of security. You see I just couldn't get my mask on; it was like it had suddenly become too small for my face. I tried to force it, I really did, but the thing broke in two. I have to say the pamphlet never said they did that.
I know it's a federal crime to break your mask—particularly these new ones that are so expensive to make with their built-in thermometers, and their wireless connection. Though I've never understood that myself, I mean why do we need access to the internet in our masks? It's the yobs right, they need their broadband beamed directly to their masks, only way those chavs would wear 'em.
What? Oh, right. Well I suppose that makes sense.
Anyway, there I was on the floor of that dirty little shop—seriously the thing would have been filthy even by yesterday's standards—with my mask split in two in my hands. Oh, and the dead man had just become infectious, well I don't have to tell you sir that I was long past the point of silent fear. I screamed—if I'd been thinking rationally, I'd have known to keep my mouth shut—but I wasn't sir, I wasn't thinking at all.
He pointed the gun at me then and I was certain, no I am certain that he would have shot me—shot me dead sir. If you and your kind hadn't burst into the shop right then. I can't even begin to tell you how thankful I am. I like my life, strange as it might seem to you right now. And I was in no mood to lose it that day.
Well, that's my story—or at least everything you should need to know, after all you were there for the rest of it. Weren't you? Oh, well surely, your colleagues…oh right, yes.
Well, I was sitting on the floor waiting for everything to be fixed. Because the police were there, so surely it must all be over soon but it wasn't. He pointed the gun at them, and because they were police officers and not the military squads, they had nothing to point back at him. Nothing to defend themselves with, nothing to make him stop what he did next. He shot one of them, straight in her mask and she fell to the floor and didn't get up again.
I don't know what happened then because his mask—the shooter's mask went red and you all fell to the ground and screamed. I just sat there with my broken mask in my hands, feeling nothing but lost. I don't know why you were screaming on the ground, or why all the other customers had started doing it too. All I know is while you were doing that, he stepped over your writhing bodies and out the door.
That's how he got away.
I swear, I didn't help him.
***
Report Number: 3042
Officer: DI Abed Baksh
Report
After an extensive interview lasting at least one hour, the only witness to the incident that was conscious and or alive enough to tell her tale, has confirmed to me what was already suspected by the majority of my department.
That is, that the electrocution of the three police officers on the scene seemed not to be any fault of their conduct in particular. Nor indeed—as many in the media have supposed—a malfunction of our masks due to poor standards of storage. It is my opinion, and no doubt my DCI will back me up on this, that it was the design of the new mandated masks that were at fault.
The Electrocution feature—that is, when a person's mask lights up red with the sign of infection, everyone standing less than two meters away will be electrocuted—has not been advertised to the public. Many have argued that the public have a right to know the consequences of their actions.
However, I would argue that the electrocution itself causes far more damage, both to the cause of justice and to the wearer's overall health, than the disease it's trying to protect us from. In fact, there are several studies—conducted in the army barracks - that show that people that have experienced this admonishment, are much more likely to get the disease. Not very relevant to the current line of investigation, but certainly fascination—and a flaw I think it's important the manufacturers be made aware of.
However as for the witness, she could give no positive ID on the shooter, or indeed any of the officers that arrived at the scene. I believe, and many will back me up, that the mask coverings of the entire face are impeding the identification process—leading to the subsequent fall in actual prosecutions.
Unfortunately for this case they are still very much in effect, and I'm afraid giving no other positive ID on the perpetrator, I must label this as crime committed by a Person Unidentified.
As for the witness herself, I do not believe we should push for prosecution as she seemed regretful about the removal of her face covering. But of course, that is not up to me.
***
On the screen there sits a man—he wears nothing but white, just like the room around him. White shoes, white trousers and a white jumper that goes all the way up to his chin. A chin you cannot see because it's covered by a mask. The whole lower half of his face is covered by a mask. A blue mask.
Suddenly the deep booming voice of the announcer comes out of nowhere, and shocks the man into a half panic.
'My, that Mask looks uncomfortable.'
The man, too afraid to get up, just nods his head still looking wildly around him for where the voice is coming from.
'Well, wouldn't you like to take it off?'
The man shakes his head again, lowering it in a display of almost submission.
'Don't you want to breath? Come on kid, the disease can't be that dangerous?'
The man shakes his head again and starts to make muffled sounds of protest.
'Really? Well then how do you expect to be kept safe by that plastic thing? Why it's practically paper, you'd be safer licking water from a drain pipe than wearing that old thing out in the street. Besides, you're alone, who're you going to infect?'
The man nods, as if this is an entirely agreeable thing to say, and finally takes off his mask.
Suddenly someone dressed all in white—a featureless mask covering their face—steps up behind him. They reach out their hands and lightning literally bursts from their fingers.
The now maskless man falls down dead, and the voice says...
'Never take off your mask, even when you think you are alone.'
Suddenly the new person steps into the light and the audience can see them fully at last—or at least, see their mask. It covers their head entirely; you can't see their eyes at all because the holes for them are covered in coloured screens. There is no nose, only slots to breathe out of, and most of all there is no mouth at all. But none of that the audience needs to see, no, the only thing that truly matters about the mask—or indeed, the person behind it—is the number stamped on the forehead.
24601
And the voice from up above says.
'The Person Unidentified Mask 3000 will keep you safe as you go about your day. Marvel at the red-light feature, to signify the signs of infection—so you know who to shun to keep your family and loved ones safe. Now with the new and improved Identifying Number, so that you too can recognise friends and family when you go out and about. BUY NOW FOR ONLY £40.95.'
And then in a slightly more muffled tone.
'Warning: Mask will not give the wearer the power to electrocute their fellow citizens. In fact, masks may electrocute the wearer should they step closer than two meters to any INFECTED person—so be ever vigilant.'
And then in his louder, god-like voice.
'Remember, to not wear a mask is a criminal offence, and can be punished with at least five years hard jail time. So, buy The Person Unidentified 3000 Mask today, and take back control of your health now.'
The voice shuts up.
The lights shut off.
And the tv screen goes black.
The End