Since it's been almost half a year without any sort of response, I decided to upload my submission for the Steam Punk Anthology that this site told me about.
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I wake up in a room of steel – square, large. A chill in the air forces synthetic goosebumps – pores, of a sort, to release pressure, and all over my steel, smooth, bare skin. I catch my sight on The Eye; the black hole that seems to consume the room. Just an orb on the ceiling, I say to myself. It shouts out voices that I do not recognize; voices of the White Jackets. The silver-grey walls of steel shine in the light of a single white fixture in the center of the ceiling, which makes this room a box of metal. Seams along panels of the floor and walls indicate maneuverability of the most complex kind. And now, in the center of it all, a single wall with a bull's eye slides up as a row of tiles move out a couple feet in front of me.
I am addressed as a number - “Subject 29. Diagnostics check...” Numbers run in my head, through my eyes. I see them, but don't understand them. I fear them. They search for something, but I don't know what to give them. I just don't know... And then...
“Maintenance check...”
My body tingles with a delightful sensation. A sensation that will never be forgotten. A sensation unlike any other that I will ever experience.
“Pain receptors check...”
And, just like that, it starts to hurt. It feels like a thousand thousand thousand needles stab and prod all over my body – I cannot think, cannot breath, and cannot move as my muscles lay me kneeling on the ground.
“Rophine procedure check...”
And the pain stops. Suddenly, surely, and decisively I can feel without wanting it to end. It makes me... happy. Something they said was good. But I don't understand it. What is it they are doing to me?
“All systems are green. Please begin by firing at the target.”
Something inside me lit up. I began to move, but not on my own accord. Muscles, no, pumps began to move. What do they pump exactly? I don't think even the White Jackets fully understand it. A natural phenomena. A mystery. A miracle. All those were words that were used to describe it; the Verge. Enormous energy with little more effort than applying pressure.
A piece of my hip unseals and opens up, revealing a small firearm. Something must be inside of me, for I felt compelled to reach for it, and did. Grab. Bang bang bang. Holster. Three holes surround the bull's eye. I don't know why I did that, but it felt... right. As if I was made for it.
The target falls and a large object much like the gun I just used comes out of the ceiling. Pointing right at me, but no fear was found. I don't understand it. They told me what fear was. Shouldn't I be feeling it?
“Please hold still.”
I braced myself for whatever was to come. For whate- Oof! My eyes jolt open and see a steel ball lodged in my abdomen. The force overwhelmed my senses, causing such a searing pain that hell itself began to shake. I didn't like this feeling at all, but more pain came when I hit the ground.
“Subject 29, can you stand up?”
My lips began to move, almost automatically. A rumbling came from my throat, forming a single word. “Yeah...” is all that came out. How did I know what sound to make?
As I stood up, my legs shook and nearly collapsed again. The turret flew up into the abyss, not to be seen again. I recover – barely.
“Well done.” said the White Jacket, “We're now commencing code 1287 – protect yourself.”
At the far end of the room, a pod drops in with shattering force. Out steps not one, but two beings such as I. Or, at least... whatever it is that I am. They look at each other for a brief moment. Turning to me. Rage – pure, absolute rage – like they were tearing into my soul, as if something had brought this upon them suddenly. In a glimpse of reaction, they push off the floor and start running at me head first. Something floods through me – adrenaline? What exactly is this feeling?
And, once they reach me, I quickly move. Duck to the left, jump to the right, step back. This was easy. Too easy. The left one swings again, and my ego gets the better of me; he knocks me in the shoulder, nearly destroying a neural node. It was time to fight back. Duck down, punch to the stomach. The right one is down. Now just leaves the left. It kicks – crap! Pain is filling my false lungs, I cannot breath!
And then it occurred to me: I don't have to breath. I hold my breath and swing wildly in front of me. A direct hit, right to the pressure center of the neck, and it's head falls off, spewing a green, steaming liquid all over the room. And on me.
I look into my hands. What have I done? This was a brethren, one of me. Someone who isn't a White Jacket. Someone in my position! What notions could have brought me to this, besides self defense? I didn't mean to -
“Well done, subject 29.” says a different voice out of The Eye, “Please, step into the chamber in front of you. I promise you won't be hurt.”
I then notice a pod sitting relatively in front of me – a pod like the one the others came in.
I do as the White Jacket asks, putting my back against the padded wall. Suddenly, my arms are grabbed by an invisible force – almost the same compelling force as when I took the gun from my hip and when I began to speak. But this is different. It feels... less direct. Like a magnet is pulling my arms upward. They lock in place, my feet along with them. The pod falls into an eerie darkness that seems to consume it all. Surely, however, after what seemed to be an eternity of falling, I am greeted by a large room with a blue light revealing several hundred other pods, turrets, and targets. Everything in my being said it was wrong, while everything in my head said it was right.
Something caught my pod, and the overwhelming G-Force of the catch nearly broke my synthetic legs. Having a soft descent was ny impossible. My head spun around and around again, crashing into the front and back of the pod. As my prison came lower to the ground, it was increasingly obvious that there was no landing here; I was moving forward. Up. To the left. To the right. Down. The maze of rooms kept me wondering where I was in relevance to the strange room I woke up in – now a home to me. I hated being away from home.
Eventually, surely, slowly I was lead through a door and into a smaller room. Whatever was holding onto me immediately let go. Bam! My face hit the wooden, bloodstained floor, now fresh with the same greenish, evaporating liquid as before. Every touch of my nose sent pain crawling down my spine. The intensity was unbearable, but I knew exactly what to do. Setting a resolve, I grabbed my nose and snapped it back into place. The sound was powerful and small at the same time, and quickly after the act I could feel the tissue patching itself up. 'The Rophine procedure: Sending nanobots through veins who repair any sort of structural damage.'
How did I know that?
I looked up and surveyed my surroundings. I now realize that it looks like an old battling arena team room, though at the time it merely looked depressing. The walls were stained with bloody hand marks, scorch spots, and holes probably caused by punching it. Turning around I noticed a large, metal door. It had scratch marks probably an inch down, and blood was dripping from them.
There was one catch: All the blood, every drop of it, was green. Like me. Something was wrong here.
On the floor in the corner lied several small, unassuming pieces of paper. Written on them, though, were words that I will never forget. Words that haunt me to this day -
"September 1st, 2039
I was brought to this... whatever this is. This place. I don't know where I am, or who took me. I remember watching the television while the boys were out. The dog was laying on his bed in our room up stairs, the good boy he is. Then, suddenly, there was this... this noise, almost like an explosion, right from my kitchen, where several men who looked like soldiers had entered through the now missing door. They arrested me and, despite my best efforts, refused to tell me why. I'm lucky I had these papers and a pen with me back from home. I can only wait now.
September... 2nd? 3rd, maybe? 2039
I don't know how many days it's been. I'm hungry, thirsty, and alone. I just sit here in this metal room, all alone with a single white fixture at the top. No one has come for me, nothing has come of the black, spherical object in the corner of the room. They took my cell phone, my wallet... everything but this pen and paper! I miss my kids, my husband, my dog... I have to get out of here! This place is... evil!
September, 2039
I can't tell the day from the night. There is no sun in here, just one light from above. It almost seems like a glimpse of heaven now – I want to go there. I want to go there so badly. Looking back at all the times I've thought of... killing myself... it just makes me want to puke. Where am I? Why did they take me? What did I do wrong?
???, 2039
There's no telling what month it is. I'm almost hesitant to say it's really 2039. It's been so... so long. No one. Not even a volleyball to keep me company. I'm starting to hear... voices. In my head. It'll go away eventually, I hope. I'm not crazy.
???
One voice screamed at me yesterday. I don't know what I did or even what it said. I just heard the scream. Am I going insane in here?
???
I odn't no wut tu du wer am I th voses get lowdr n lowdr evry da dun no wer I am plez help PLEZ
HELP ME
I'M NOT CRAZY I'M NOT CRAZY I'M NOT CRAZY I'M NOT CRA–
The rest gets cut off with a blotch of blood. On the next page, it continues the entire length of both sides. Just the same constant, nagging, persistent cry for help. On the third page, however, is something different:
February 14th , 2040
I apologize to whoever is reading this for the past page. I would have erased it, but this pencil is the most valuable resource I have right now. I don't know what came over me, but shortly after writing the last of it I heard another voice. A real one, coming out of The Eye. They gave me a number, but I've forgotten it by now – that was three days ago. They said they would help me, when gas was flooded into the chamber. When I woke up, I found a metal box attached to the back of my neck – small little thing. (I felt the back of my neck. Why had I not noticed that there before?)
I don't know what they did, but I'm sane now – I even know the date. Although this is unfortunate; My husband proposed to me on February 14, 2015. I miss him so much...
Trying to keep this short. I don't know how I could have been here for this long and lived, but I am noticeably skinnier now. Boney, some might say, but now I'm finding regular meals pop out of the panels on the floor. It's all a gray mush, probably meant to be rich with every nutrient I need, since I'm not hungry the rest of the day. Strange, but hey, who am I to complain?
February 20th , 2040
They gave me some sort of green liquid to drink today – kind of looking like whatever runs the electrical stuff. I was never very good at remembering its name. I protested, but they insisted that it was for my own good and that if I didn't, I wouldn't be fed. That was enough for me to drink it. It tasted the way I expected – absolutely revolting. God, what I would do for a cheeseburger, large fries, and a shake. It makes my mouth water thinking about it.
February 21st , 2040
They warned me today that the green stuff would make... changes happen. Nothing specific. They've also forgot my meal today. Odd.
February 25th , 2040
They haven't given me any food at all. The strangest part is that I'm not hungry whatsoever. Is this one of the coming changes I'm about to go through? God, I hope not. I like eating.
Also, not to complain, but there's this itch on my butt that I can't seem to scratch. You know, where it meets the lower back, right in the center? I think that's the base of the spine or something. Odd, indeed.
February 26, 2040
I've looked back on my journal entries. Why am I so calm? I should be freaking out right now, like I was that second and third day. I should miss them... them... oh... oh God! I can't remember their faces! Is this a change to expect? Memory loss? Oh, God, what kind of mother forgets her children?!
March 1st, 2040
Children? A husband? A dog? None of them matter now. Not a single damn one of them. I can't remember them, and I don't much care. A warm sensation fills my body. I love it. I must have more of it. Whatever their plans are for me, I'll accept them without hesitation.
This is my last journal entry."
The third page ends. Dear God, what happened to this woman? Why did she forget everything? I don't know I want to be here anymore.
As if they heard my thoughts, the huge door behind me opened up, revealing an arena of sand and green blood; a ring of death. My mind jump which way and that. I couldn't catch hold of reality for a second.
Once my mind processed what was going on, I realized two heavily armed and armored soldiers were heading towards me. They were not what I expected: Instead of skin, they had metal. Instead of guns, they had swords. I don't understand why they are using such pitiful excuses for technology, or why I even thought about the technological level of what they used, but there it is. Plain as day, two robotic swordsman were running towards me, who was alone and unarmed.
Quickly I jumped up, and something resembling adrenaline pumped through my body. I was faster, stronger, and sharper. Duck, and the sword hits the wall. Jump, and the sword hits the ground. That's it. I can do thi- and a blade sliced into my fake, left arm. A hose of green semi-liquid spewed out of the wound. Without thinking, I struck back and my fist went straight... straight through... his stomach! I killed it! “Oh, God, not again! I'm tired of killing! Please make it stop!” I shouted on the top of my pumps.
As if by command, the other robot shut down and fell with a crash. A voice from The Eye, which was in the Arena Room, said the following:
“Conscience test succeeded. We apologize for any added stress. Please continue into the next room.”
Like that, a door opened up. Behind me, but it lead to someplace else; different than from where I came. It was an office. Something that a really important person would live in, I guessed. The Warden.
Brown suited, a man with a few whiskers of a beard and what appeared to be absolutely unnatural, long gray hair walked to the desk. He sat down on his throne and looked over what was his: Me. I stepped inside – noting a tingling sensation on entry – and simply watched as he looked over me. A sick pleasure resided on his face, and I felt intent to cover up, but was afraid to. He leaned forward in the black chair, leaning on his intricately carved desk. “We finally meet face to face, my dear Subject 29.”
'Finally meet'? I've been awake for at most a couple hours – could I be that important already?
“I've been watching you, Subject. You please me, and I wish to recruit you. You will be part of a great organization – one that spans the Universe. You will be vastly... rewarded.” He winks at me, a shiver in disgust creeping down my spine.
I look around. Two cameras watch me, and two guards are on either side of the room. I can do this.
“No.”
“But you must-”
“No.”
He sighs heavily, clearly disappointed in my answer. “I have to say, I expected better of you. I really did hope you would be a suc-” but the shot was already fired. Right into his solar plexus; he will drown in his own blood.
The guards react, but my pistol is already in line with one of their heads. Pop goes one. Pop goes the other. I felt the warm handle on my gun. It felt comforting, in the creepiest way possible.
What the hell am I?
Turn to my right and several more guards already line the hallway. I mow them down effortlessly, every shot hitting the target. Whatever I am, I have power.
A shot is fired and, in a blur of slow motion, I can see it hit my face. It bends; almost melts, bouncing off like nothing. This was nothing. I shot as many times as there were guards and, again, killed them all. I like this... this power.
I run down the corridor, and echo beating with every step. They all came so clear – my senses had never been so sharp. Every step, every thump, every shot, every shout came loud. I understood it all, judged it all, and took them all out. If this is what power is, I want more of it.
After more absolute and uncaring slaughter, I make my way to a glass door to a large room – too large to see the ends of. A golden light of such luminous brilliance that I had no choice but to block my eyes. Fortunately, white, puffy things partially blocked it, aiding my shade. It was dazzling. Mystifying. Beautiful. I stepped towards it; slowly creeping. The wonder of it all, the amazement in my eyes overwhelmed the shattering of the glass as a shot fired behind me. I didn't care, I didn't want to care. I just walked. Step... Step... Step...
And then there was nothing.
I fell forwards, the wind howling against my steel shell. The air beat my face and, for a moment, I could again not breathe. This horrible, aching feeling, like I'm gasping for air despite the fact that I don't need it. What did they call it again?
Fear.
A misty, gray substance stood between me and the floor – I could not see through it, though I felt it saw through me. I felt everything saw through me, like I was exposed in the most naked way. When the ground finally came into view, I immediately counted the seconds to impact.
10...
I noticed the gassy, green liquid pouring through tubes in floating castles – no, not castles, but mansions. Mansions like castles; huge expansions of man's pride.
9...
My eyes turned to the wall of metal, speeding things going by just to my right. They went either way, as if they had no time to stop and enjoy the scenery.
Heh. Funny.
8...
The fear was distracted and my body relaxed. What this thing was that I felt... it made puffs of air go out of my body in quick succession. I believe it's called 'laughter'.
7...
I became increasingly aware of just how cold the air was. It was as if my joints were freezing up – I could not move. And when I did, I changed my fall completely with every slight jolt.
6...
Don't move... said a voice in my head. I don't know whose it was or where it came from, but I obeyed.
5...
Five seconds remaining until the crash. Yet I felt no more fear. Like I accepted my demise already, in this span of half a decade of seconds.
4...
Smile... it said. Again, I obeyed. What else could I do?
3...
You're a disappointment. I gulped. Why did this make me feel... I don't know, bad. Like my chest was being crushed?
2...
We believed in you. Believed in my for what? What was my purpose?
1...
Goodbye. Goodbye.
Splat.
I wake up in a room of steel – square, large. A chill in the air forces synthetic goosebumps – pores, of a sort, to release pressure, and all over my steel, smooth, bare skin.
“Subject 30.” comes a voice from The Eye, “Diagnostics check...”
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