The faceless have overtaken my home. The very city I have always loved has been reduced to smooth and featureless depictions. I am walking through the swaying mass of faceless. They do not notice me, I resist the urge to check my mask. It is secure, it has to be.

In the beginning there were only a few faceless. They offered a sense of freedom. They offered belonging. But without a face, how can one express their hearts. How could one smile or frown. But there was the allure. There was no need to behave correctly because there was no way to behave incorrectly. Living anonymously within your own skin had such a draw. And when a handful of celebrities began strutting around as freshly faceless, it certainly caught on.

The factory was getting closer. The sparkling clean streets were filled with faceless. They silently moved as they always had, rushing off for one task or another. But now silent, the only sound afflicting the streets was the pounding of feet, all primly dressed of course. The shadow of the factory loomed closer still. A small trickle of faceless were entering and a swarm were exiting. Always following the main flow-lines. Falling in line was easy. Almost too easy. It was the very thing that society had been training me for my entire life. Falling in line was the end goal after all.

The gates of the factory no longer housed security or key-card readers. Why would someone fall out of line? Yet a faceless was stationed at a guard desk anyway, wistfully performing their most holy duty. One by one each faceless stepped forward, tipped their head towards the guard, and continued inside. It would be my turn soon. My heart was beating faster, would I make it through this time? Would they find me out? I'll never forget the first time I saw someone taken by the faceless.

I think the poor woman was just finishing up some kind of retreat. She must have if she hadn't heard of or seen the faceless before. She just stood in the main thoroughfare screaming begging herself to "wake up". The few faceless that were nearby simply restrained her, and dragged her off to the nearest removal facility. Every now and then I feel like I can see her, but without a face it can be so hard to tell. Surely she resumed her usual endeavors, simply without a face or will of her own at this point.

It's my turn to nod. I do my best to wash all anxiety away from myself. But that moment of hesitation does cause the guard to cock their head in my direction. I take the most natural feeling motion of a nod and move on to catch up to the stream. I hold my breath under the mask for several more seconds, hoping beyond hope that nothing would come of that.

Inside the stream forked off in different directions, I followed the two or so faceless that led to my department. There we each sat to our assigned stations. There was no point in name tags, each faceless would always be in the same station anyway. Just like how I would be stuck in this endless farcical cycle forever. For several moments we three are sat motionless in our stations. The the clacking of keys begins. The clacking drones on and on erasing all else. I have no choice but to join in. It is my own so-called "holy purpose". At first I think to type something halfway meaningful, to write and express myself in some way that can give me nourishment. But after typing out a few paragraphs of prose, I think the better of it.

If someone someday thinks to check on the workings of the suspicious character from the entryway, no doubt they would be disturbed to find proper writing. I seamlessly deleted the existing prose, it would only ever be allowed to live in my heart after all, and began errant clacking. Different keys at different paces. One by one, fraction of a second by fraction of a second. It was almost easy to lose myself in it. It was of course, the purpose I was assigned. I like to imagine the other two are deeply content with this task. After several hours it feels like torture. Then the break time arrives. First the one on the far end leaves to sit in the break room. As they return the next begins. Exactly ten minutes elapse between each. Now it was my turn.

I stand as calmly as possible and begin my walk over to the break room. There another faceless arrives at roughly the same time as me. We both take a seat somewhere, in our assigned seats. And I study from under my mask as the faceless's behaviour. It is almost impossible to tell different faceless between each other. Their clothes and skin tones are somewhat helpful, but it's hopeless now that they are dressing near identical. Roughly half of the faceless dress in a navy blue suit with a white button down shirt, black tie, and dark dress pants.

The other half wear roughly the same thing but with slightly more feminine variations of it. I can't even say as to whether this is indicative of their gender or simply the attire they are assigned. The faceless I am subtly watching is very nondescript. They are slightly shorter than me, with skin the color of a freshly cut oak. But their head follows the same pattern as the rest of the faceless. Their head lacks any unique features. No hair at all, not simply thinned but as though the very follicles had been removed. The front of their head, where the face had been, was now a flat sheet angled down to an inch or so deeper than where the tip of their chin was. The skin around the edges smoothed out into the rest of the dome of their head. No ears protruded either. Yet somehow the faceless seemed capable of sensing the world around them somehow. They clearly seemed to see because they are able to catch deviants somehow.

It was time to return, then time for more clacking, and eventually time for the day to end. This horrific cycle was unending. Every day for the rest of forever as far as I could tell. At times I wondered if perhaps it would be worth trying to buy a face removal. After all, if this was what life was now, why not join in? If there is no escape why not join those that seem to enjoy it? But no, I couldn't sacrifice what I am. I have to hold on to who I am. I have to escape. Surely not everyone is faceless? The ministers seem to have gone fully faceless, but there has to be someone behind this project, else how could it have spread so effectively? That was my purpose when I could spare the time and energy.

Author Notes

• I had this idea one night while thinking about identity and expectations. I originally thought it was going to end up as a story-focused souls-like. But hey, writing out words is infinitely easier than developing an entire video game. Maybe I'll adapt it if I make some good progress and if I think it would be a benefit. But I wanted to share that detail because it could give some readers an idea of where I intend to take this.
• (I'll add more notes as feels appropriate)

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