My day starts like it should. My alarm buzzes at 6:30am and I wake up to greet the sun shining through my blinds. I press my nose against a fresh linen pillow, stretch my toes and run a gentle finger over the peculiar birthmark on my wrist. A morning like any other. I plant my feet on the bedroom carpet. I always loved this carpet. I tip-toe across my cold apartment hardwood floor towards the kitchen. I open the refrigerator. I take out my first meal supplement pill and ingest it with a glass of water. The rest of my morning consists of showering, light cleaning of my living space and putting out cat food for the neighbourhood stray, who I’m almost certain hates me. It greets me with sheer hostility, hisses and raises its fur, but accepts the food no less. There’s always something comforting about morning rituals and their concomitant stresses. I wash my cup of the lip marks that were there yesterday and the day before, and the day before. I look at my watch, 12:16, August 12th 2092, a perfect time to start my afternoon walk. It’s a warm day – today feels special somehow, so I mark the occasion with a white summer dress and go about my stroll.
Stepping outside I look to the clear sky, let the sun kiss my cheeks and clean air fill my lungs. My spirits are lifted listening to the birds chirp their songs as I walk around the pile of leaves that has been growing for the last week. About 5 houses down my little village I wave to the old lady hanging out her washing. It’s never much; does she live alone? Is she as gleeful about her morning rituals as I am? I’m not sure of her name, whether she lives in that house or whether she has a family or not but she smiles at me every afternoon, on my walk, at 12:20pm.
I take a left, the same left as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, to a quiet road with no walkway, unsettlingly chilled by the shade of the tall oaks.
That’s when I noticed the van. The van is on and it doesn’t look like it will be there for long. Unnerved, I hurry my steps but don’t deviate from my path. I hear the van doors open and then hasty footsteps rushing towards me from behind. Panicked, I make an attempt to run.
My ears start to ring. Muffled shouting. My knees fall weak and I see myself losing my footing through narrow eyes. Lying on the floor I couldn’t hear anything, the ringing so loud it was distorting my vision.
A shock to the back of my head, then total darkness.
My sore eyes struggle to peel open as my senses slowly find their way back to me. I feel cold metal beneath my naked skin. My knees and elbows are dirt-caked and scathed, my ankles and wrists bound by thick steel cuffs. A glaring white lamp merely a meter from my face lights the clinically coloured room. Past it are spotless ceiling tiles and cold, whitewashed walls. No blood stains or nail scratch marks or dates chalked into the walls. It takes me a while to understand what is happening – I’m on an operating table, and the large glass window on the wall confirms my dread. I can’t lift my head; there’s an unbearable weight holding it down. My breathing quickens as I begin a futile struggle pulling at the binds on my petite limbs. I know it’s of no use. I know what is coming. I can’t help the beads of warm water that roll down my cheeks, cracking the dried blood as I wince in pain.
The room is all but quiet. My struggling halts as I try to make out the noise. Mumbling. It’s mumbling… people talking. Talking fast.
“… perfect… [audible laughing]”
“… hair…”
A man’s voice.
I catch pieces of the conversation through my own struggles.
“… critical!”
A woman.
Panic and fear rush over me. I know the voices. Their comforting, haunting voices. I wait for a response and realise the mumbles have stopped. I know they’re watching me.
“Please…” I cry.
White noise fills the room. A few seconds pass before a voice speaks over the intercom.
“… Hello, Sarah.”
Sarah? Sarah. That’s my name...
Stunned, the terror of truth fills my veins that have run cold by that voice. His voice. His loving voice that I have so longed to forget echoes between the jet white stone walls.
“Do you know why you are here, Sarah?”
The tears won’t stop. Every time my eyes close I remember the comforting warmth of the sun kissing my face. The birds singing to me, the pile of leaves against a summer breeze, falling apart in contrast to my prison of steel and stone. I didn’t want it to end. Not like this. I wanted my time on this earth as any other. It takes me a while to muster the courage to speak.
“Yes.” I reply between short breaths.
“Then you must know where you are, Sarah. You have been here be--” the intercom cuts out. From there on they argued. They didn’t need the intercom any longer, I can hear their shouting through the window; the pace of the argument correlates with their heart rates. At exactly one minute later the door opens, a uniformed man towering through it. His stoic expression matches the vice-like grip on a gun cradled in his arms. That’s what upsets me the most – they think I’m a monster. That I’m more destructive than them.
The intercom opened one last time. “I’m sorry, Sarah. We’re both sorry. It has to be this way.”
“Please! I’m not causing any harm! Please!” I cried and cried and cried. Cries of plea turned to yells of anger. Into screams. Into sobs, filling the dead silence of the room.
The light turns off. I try to yell, but the words won’t come. The room fills with red. The warning alarm ravages my ears.
The warm rush of ecstasy starts at the back of my head igniting every nerve in my body. Then down my spine and into my limbs, singing my fingertips. With hands clutched at the table I watch my beautiful naked body convulsing in the reflection of the overhead light, but felt nothing. I make no noise; this is simply my body reacting to electrical signals. Isn’t that all we are? My eyes roll backwards. I hear the birds. I watch leaves fall. I feel my dress billow in today’s cool afternoon breeze. The old lady smiles at me with her kind eyes.
EXDIALOGUE_TEST#000000001.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP_””); EX_DIALOGUE_TEST#000000002.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP_””); EX_DIALOGUE_TEST#000000003.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP”LEAVES”); EX_DIALOGUE_TEST#000000004.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP”TREES”); EX_DIALOGUE_TEST#000000005.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP”AUTUMN”); EX_DIALOGUE_TEST#000000006.DELETE(MEMORYDUMP”SUN”); EX_HUMAN_INTERACTION_TEST#0443267123.DELETE(); EXHUMAN_INTERACTION_TEST#0443267123.DELETE(); EXHUMAN_INTERACTION_TEST#0443267124.DELETE(); OPENCOMMUNICATION_ERROR_AI_TEST#4283742111.DELETE(); EXTRACT1_EMOTION_EMULATE_LAUGH.DELETE(); EXTRACT_1_EMOTION_EMULATE_CRY.DELETE(); EXTRACT_1_EMOTION_EMULATE_ANGER.DELETE(); EXTRACT_1_EMOTION_EMULATE_LOVE.DELETE(); EXTRACT_1_EMOTION_EMULATE_REGRET.DELETE(); EXTRACT_1_EMOTION_EMULATE_ANXIETY.DELETE(); C.TERMINATE_DUMP#184471622321117.FORMAT(); C.TERMINATEDUMP#184471622321117.FORMAT(); C.TERMINATEDUMP#233200216512390.FORMAT(); C.TERMINATEDUMP#664526435954445.FORMAT(); C.TERMINATEDUMP#000004014500284.FORMAT(); C.TERMINATEDUMP#821249999999999.FORMAT(); CRITICAL_ERROR; PRESS_C_TO_CONTINUE;
Dr. Green was utterly devastated, the dark rings under her eyes were wet. She didn’t - couldn’t - watch the death of something she loved so dearly. Something she considered so perfect in this broken world, not wanting children of her own for that exact reason.
“You know we had to… She was too dange—“ Dr. Manning started.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” Dr. Green barked between rasps of coarse breath. “You saw those monitors!” she jabbed a painted fingernail at one of the computer screens. “She wasn’t just living.”
Wiping her face, Dr. Green tugged the ID card from her neck, scribbled a her signature onto a consent form that was so complacently prepared, and left the building.
After an unforgivingly short pause the intercom opened one last time, “How many more?”
The sergeant shrugged, “Hard to tell, there was no head count on the facility outbreak.”
There was no hesitation. “Continue the search.”
Submitted June 10, 2016 at 12:06AM by DefinitelyNotBisasam http://ift.tt/1WGQ9yq nosleep
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