text: My Mum was born with seven hundred million. She could talk all day everyday and still live to see old age. Dad, well his number was a little lower but that suited him fine. He was the type of guy who could have a whole conversation with nothing but a look and a grunt. Me, well that’s a whole different story altogether. I’m one of 387 people in the history of the world to be born with a one. Our condition is commonly known as being a oneword. We are a lot like mutes, except they are born with zeroes and go on living regardless. In a world where lives are measured in sentences mutes are the exception that makes the rule. Onewords, well we fit the system. We are as limited by our number as anyone else. Most onewords pass away quite young. I suppose toddlers don’t know not to say Mama or Papa. So where does all of this leave me? Well I am one of sixteen onewords to have made it into adulthood. Of the other sixteen only two are still alive. There is Tiao-Su, who works as a programmer in Hong Kong. As a child Tiao-Su was stopped from talking by his harsh but loving parents. Then there is Jodie, she’s a Canadian zookeeper. I have met both of them a couple of different times. The first time we all met was at a research lab in the Germany. We were subjected to an array of different tests. Scientists trying to work out if sighing, whistling, humming count as words or not. For the record, they don’t. As a matter of fact I am quite the whistler. The second time we all met when we were brought on to a TV talk show. Dad got a real kick out of it. Imagine a talk show having three guests who wont say anything? It was ridiculous! The interviewer kept asking and answering her own questions. I did enjoy the trip though, I mean who would say no to a free holiday in California? For most of my life being unable to communicate has held me back. I was forced to go to an all girls school for mutes, but I never fit in. Most of the other girls would hassle me and try to trick me into speaking. Outside of the mute community wasn’t much better. Normal people always assumed I had wasted all my words. There’s a fair bit of taboo around word-wasters. It comes from the old days when life was harsh. Everyone had to live as long as possible so they could give back to the community. Back then wasting words was a grave sin. One day, the whole world changed. An amazing man, a genius inventor by the name of Nikolai Chimpon changed the world with a single invention. Nikolai built a device that reads brainwaves and outputs speech. It was finally possible to speak without the need to actually talk. For most people in the world this was a neat way to increase their life expectancy. For me? Well it was the start of my life. No longer held back by my single digit I took on the world. I became a singer and well known media personality. Soon after a romance between Nikolai and I blossomed and were soon married. In our third year of marriage we had a son, we named him George. Life was beautiful and glorious. That was forty-eight years ago this May. Nikolai and I watched our son grow and start a family of his own. Unfortunately Nikolai developed dementia in his sixties. The disease caused him to ramble. He passed towards the end of last year. Nowadays I am left alone. For the first time in my life it is not that I cannot speak but instead I have no one to speak to. George visits from time to time but he can’t waste his life chatting away with an old lady. I have lived an amazing life and I am content. All that is left for me now is to say “Goodbye.