The Beginning

Velise's adjustment to being captured.

When consciousness started returning to me, it felt like slowly coming up from underwater. Each sense returning one at a time, muffled at first, then stronger. First was taste, paired with smell. Metal. Bitter, sour, tangy metal. Or maybe blood? I wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t pleasant, whatever it was. Next was touch. I twitched and moved my arm, wincing as I did. I felt sore. My whole body was achy and angry. Stiff in protest with every slight twitch and small adjustment. Then came sound. A symphony of random noises and hums that made my head throb even harder. I heard the rhythmic beeping of something mechanical, the steady hum of something that sounded similar to an air conditioner, the deep, repetitive rumble of something that reminded me of a car engine- a purring, steady noise that I felt through my whole body. And last was sight. I opened my eyes a little, getting a sense for what my body was willing to handle in my current condition. I hissed sharply through my teeth when a blinding, stabbing pain hit my senses. There were bright lights above me, which definitely didn’t help the already awful throbbing in my head. I kept my eyes closed for a second, breathing deep and slow, hoping that I’d stop hearing my heartbeat thudding around inside my brain, and that it would stop the pain a bit when it faded.

I wasn’t sure how long I laid like that, maybe a couple minutes, maybe half an hour, but eventually, I felt my body regulating. I felt it adjust to being awake. And I let out a sigh of relief when the pounding stopped and it didn’t feel like a sharp, stabby rod was being shoved through my skull when I opened my eyes again. This time, I actually got the chance to analyze my surroundings. I was in a cell. At least, it looked like a cell. Thick iron bars instead of a door- though strategically placed too close together to slip even a hand through, and too bulky and sturdy to break- and there was a tiny toilet that looked absolutely humiliating to try to use. I almost wondered for a moment if the machines had done it on purpose. As an extra f**k you to the humans. I doubted it, but I almost wished they had. It would’ve made the situation funnier, instead of just plain sad. That was it. The only things of interest other than what I laid on. Was this what the facility looked like? Was this seriously what the rest of my life was going to be? I sat up slowly, grunting from the strain. As I put my hands back on the table to support my weight, I realized the material was barely even a bed. It was a steel table with cloth thrown over the top. No wonder I was sore if this is what I slept on. How long was I out, anyway?

I looked around the room again, as if it could give me an answer. I found none. The only clues were the dryness in my throat that suggested I was dehydrated, the low growling in my stomach as it whined in hunger, and the ache in my limbs that suggested they hadn’t been used in a concerning amount of time. But, I was alive. Yay me…

I sighed and looked up at the low hanging ceiling, though I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. But whatever it was, I didn’t find it. All I saw was a smooth steel surface with no cracks or flaws to exploit. A perfect design to keep a prisoner in. As pristine and sound as the machine’s themselves.

Gods… why did we ever make them to begin with?

I answered my own question in a heartbeat. Convenience. That’s why. It started small with telephones and TVs. Then video games. Then computers. Then tiny computers that we carried around in our pockets, easy and addictive to use. Then it was smart technology that could do things with a simple voice command. And… well, things spiraled from there. It was never enough. Things needed to be better, faster, more efficient, more convenient. And soon, even the stuff with good intentions came back to bite humanity in the a*s. Robots designed to explore the places people can’t get to? The Patrollers, designed to catch the humans. Self driving cars that are safer than human piloted ones? Now used to transport the humans captured. Chips administered in the brain stem used for the physically disabled to regain their body function? Now used to control and keep a log of every human the machines take. Human like machines made to take the place of soldiers in wars to lessen casualties, both stronger and more resilient than humans? The Enforcers, designed to kill the “violent” humans that cannot be managed, and detain and chip the rest. And the worst part? Mankind had predicted it for generations. From cheesy horror movies about killer robots, to thought provoking thrillers to make us think about our actions. And yet, we ignored it all. All for the sake of convenience. All for more control in our lives. How poetic that the very same line of thinking that wanted Artificial Intelligence to give us more freedom, is the very same that robbed us of it.

It started with the wars. As AI advanced more and more, the countries became wary of each other. Alliances broke, the design of AI changed from helpful to hurtful, and it turned into a race of who could progress the fastest, who could get control more quickly

But in the end, everyone lost. No one knows exactly when it happened, the exact trigger. All us humans know is that AI learned more than it was meant to, and it decided to take matters into its own hands. It was going to end the wars, the pollution, the climate change, the starvation and poverty and meaningless death. It was going to “fix” everything. And the start, was getting rid of the pesky humans who started this. Containing them, controlling them.

And thus, the beginning of the end started faster than anyone could anticipate. Within the week the machines already had their grip on the world. And it switched from them gaining control to them keeping it. And we did it all to ourselves. AI may have pulled the trigger, but we were the ones who made, and loaded, the gun.

So now, here I was, after seven years of fighting and surviving, I was finally caught. There was nowhere left to run. I was trapped, just like the rest of humanity. And all because of one stupid mistake. All because I walked into a gas station. All because I let my guard down.

I sighed and plopped back down, instantly regretting it as I felt the unforgiving steel bite into my back and shoulders. That would definitely take some getting used to.

Or maybe, I wouldn’t have to adjust after all.

I heard the sound of the same clicking footsteps as before. An Enforcer was headed my way. Why, I wasn’t sure. But it gave me a foolish spark of hope for some reason. Pathetic, I know. But really, how much worse than this could things get? What was the point of being scared of the Enforcers after being caught?

Besides, if they killed me it meant I wouldn’t have to stay here. Win win. So there wasn’t much they could do to me that would make me wary at the moment.

I stared right back into the apathetic gaze of the Enforcer at the bars. The same silver piercing its way through me. The human like expression would never not be creepy, but at least the metal was a dead giveaway as to what it was. No skin or anything like that. Just silicon, steel, and wires. I watched as it opened the door and stood at the opening as if expectant. What did it want? Was it just there to guard? But then why open the door?


“Human 1974332997, please follow me. I will escort you to your assigned quarters.”

I blinked, a little confused. “Assigned quarters?” Was I not staying here? I mean, honestly I wasn’t complaining. I was fine with being moved someplace nicer. And it would give me the opportunity to scout the place when I looked for a way out. Maybe I could even sneak away when it “escorted” me. Granted, I had no idea which way would lead me out, and the Facilities always looked huge on the outside. But I’d still take the opportunity if I got it.

I scooted to a sitting up position again, blinking hard as I realized how lightheaded it made me. Gods… getting chipped messed with the body more than I realized. I felt like I had the flu, the queasiness hitting me hard. I really hoped I didn’t puke, I couldn’t afford to lose whatever precious nutrition was left in my body. Maybe I had moved too quickly. I focused on my breathing again, until everything settled back into place once more and I could trust myself to stand. I moved slower this time, and though my body still spasmed and popped in protest, I didn’t feel like I was going to hurl anymore. Though the lovely little headache had returned with a vengeance. I groaned and went to take a step, before crying out and spouting a few obscenities. Looks like I forgot about the foot injury. Funny, considering how badly it hurt now. It was like my brain forgot for a moment to send me the pain signals, then remembered when I got up. It wasn’t the burning it was before, now it was a duller, throbbing, pulsing pain. Like the joint had been pulled out and pushed back in. Which, it might have been. I have no idea what the Enforcer did to knock me down. Whatever it was, it had to have been a ranged attack. I winced and looked up at the Enforcer in front of me. I wondered if it was the same one who had brought me here, or if it was a different one. I could always tell the model because of the differences in design, but that was it. They were all clones of each other unless an upgrade happened. As if sensing my gaze, it repeated its command.

“Human 1974332997, please follow me. I will escort you to your assigned quarters.”

I glared at it, debating whether flipping it off would be worth the effort. I decided against it. Purely because my arms were supporting my weight right now as I leaned against the bed.

How the hell am I supposed to follow you when I can’t walk, a*****e?

I sighed when a minute of silence passed and it repeated the message again. Looks like I wasn’t really given a choice here. I just had to limp, I guess. Otherwise this cycle would keep going, and it was getting obnoxious. I took a hesitant step, trying to gauge my balance as I tried to keep as much pressure on the good foot as possible. Admittedly, with every step I took, I got a little more nervous about the state of my wounded leg. It wasn’t just painful to put pressure on it, it was impossible. It physically couldn’t handle it. And every step reminded me of that fact. Every awkward shuffle felt like it punctuated the fact that something was severely wrong.

And I had no idea how permanent it would be.

By the time I got next to the machine waiting patiently by the open door, I was panting and thoroughly wiped. Not to mention, my head was throbbing worse, though I tried to ignore it.

“There, ya happy? I made it over. Now where the hell are you taking me?”

It didn’t respond. Just turned on its heel and started walking to the left. I assumed it was expecting me to follow. And… well, with several more Enforcers at the cells behind me, and no capability to run, I didn’t feel I had much of a choice. Though, that definitely didn’t mean I was just taking this lying down. My eyes were peeled on every little detail around me, regardless of the daunting, vast, nature of the facility. If I saw any chance of exit, any weak spots to exploit, I was taking my chance. Injury be damned, I wouldn’t be here a second longer than I had to be.

But, even I knew my limits. I could maybe get in a good sprint with the aid of adrenaline, but beyond that, my leg was too fried to do much. So I needed to wait. I needed to find something close, something I had a chance of reaching, instead of pulling away now and aimlessly wandering until I collapsed. It was the smart thing to do, right?

Well, I found myself thinking that less and less the further we walked. Because… I couldn’t find anything.

The corridor beyond the cells was made of solid metal in a perfect, seemingly endless cube. No windows, no doors, just us and several other Enforcers shuffling through for what felt like an eternity until we made it through where it opened up into a larger section. And here, there was a lot of activity. It was huge and two stories high. Similar to how I remembered malls were. The top floor was open in the middle, made up of a large ring platform around the edges of the room. The bottom layer was filled with various Repairers all working on an arrangement of projects. Repairers always reminded me of giant Swiss army knives. They all had several different arms they switched in and out, and were often a strange combination of scrapped pieces from the very materials they worked on. I noticed some had the faces of Enforcers, a chilling mashup that I was sure I’d be seeing in my nightmares, and others had blocky, chunky, faceless, pieces of metal instead of a head at all. And yet, they were all working just as effectively. Some were using a welding iron attachment to line scrap metal up and piece it together into a longer sheet, others were cutting jagged pieces down into precise shapes, a few were even putting pieces together in box-like shapes that seemed eerily like the frames of Patrollers. It was all incredibly loud, metal on metal, screeching and burning and hissing sounds that did nothing for my headache.

And on the second floor, The Scrappers were taking old machines- Patrollers, Repairers, and Enforcers alike, and ripping apart their damaged, dented, bodies to throw down to the level below. The noise upon each impact was deafening. And the sight of a Scrapper was intimidating. I’d seen a busted one once, but it did no justice to them all here, functional and powerful. Large, with spindly, razor-sharp legs, and strange, vertically rectangular bodies. Like peculiar hermit crabs with sharp edges and metal plates instead of shells. They were tearing through steel and scrap like it was a knife through butter. I shuddered to think what one of those could do to a human. Especially considering they were all three times as big as the average person.

Definitely not going up there. Don’t see any exits. Besides, I’m fine with steering clear of those things.

“Human 1974332997, please proceed walking at a close distance until we have reached our destination.”

I grit my teeth. If it said that stupid number one more time, I was going to take my shoe off and beat the Enforcer with it. Would it do any damage? No. Would it most definitely hurt the hell out of my already injured foot? Yep. Would it also be insanely satisfying to do? Absolutely.

I gave one last glance around the room, looking for any obvious exits. There weren’t any. The place was sealed in from every angle except from where we just came from, and two large doors we were heading towards now. I had to shuffle around piles of junk carefully, not wanting to slice my one good foot on any loose scraps lying around in endless piles, or be flattened like a pancake by the constant rain of shredded machine bits.

I followed the Enforcer pretty closely, even though it admittedly was hard to keep up with the strange zombie-like limp I was forced to have. I figured escape would be easier alive than dead, so I could refocus on my goal in the next room. Wherever the hell that ended up being.

As we got to the doors and I was given a second to catch my breath, I saw the Enforcer stop, its eyes going pinpoint, before dilating fully. Next thing I knew, the doors were clicking open with a satisfying chime. I tried to keep that image in my head to replay a few dozen times. I’d do my best to remember every detail when planning my escape, in case something about whatever the machine did gave away the secret on how to get these open.

When the doors slid open, I was surprised to see what appeared to be an elevator. A bit strange to see in the world we live in now. Though, I supposed it made sense. The Enforcers could move pretty well, but it would be time consuming having to navigate the stairs every time they needed to go… wherever this led to. Though, the mental image of an Enforcer missing a step and tumbling down a flight of stairs with indignant whirring from its circuits brought me a moment of joy.

I was admittedly a bit wary of being trapped in a tiny box with this thing, especially if we were going up, and therefore further away from any exits- not that I had seen a single one thus far. And yet, I doubted my foot could make it up one step, let alone who knows how many flights. So, I hobbled on as the Enforcer stood next to me, its back was straightened in unnervingly perfect posture, and its eyes did the strange dilating thing again. And like clockwork, the elevator doors closed, and we started to move.

I felt my stomach do a flip as we did, the nausea deciding to return. The elevator was quick. Too quick. A smooth and fast ride that seemed even worse than the junky, rickety ones I’d ridden before. I looked over at where the buttons usually were and only saw a smooth, black screen that remained that way, even as we were clearly moving. No numbers showed up, no indicator to show where we were. But the Enforcer didn’t seem to need such things. Instead, without the aid of floor numbers to memorize, I tried to count to see how many seconds I was on this thing, hoping it might mean… something. Something to keep track of if I ever manage to get on this thing again and need to know my way back down.

Forty-five seconds. That’s how long we were on the elevator. And it didn’t stop once in-between movements, just a continuous smooth glide that made me nervous as to how high up we might be right now. And then, it went up a little more, and went back down gently as it lined up with whatever floor we were meant to settle on. I noticed that the Enforcer blinked when the elevator finally paused, as if its concentration was broken. Odd.

The doors slid open and I watched as a blinding white contrasted the previous silvers and grays.

Tiles. Tiles instead of steel. Pearly white, absolutely pristine, tiles that sparkled in the fluorescent lights. Strange.

We walked out, and the first thought that came to mind was uniform. It was like a massive hotel, with a long, horizontal hallway full of that blinding tile, and doors lined every two or so feet apart. Each with numbers. I noticed these all started in the 600s.

Are we on the sixth floor? Is it modeled after hotels in that way, too? Maybe that means there’s emergency exits as well. There must be. With all the work happening below, surely there’s some sort of safety plan if something explodes or crashes or something. Then again… that feels like wishful thinking. I doubt the machines are that concerned with the well being of their prisoners.

I frowned as I scanned everything in sight. No decor, no windows, no natural lighting. Just… doors. Doors and tile and numbers. I had to squint a little to look at the walls, too. Everything was just so… bright. Too bright. How had they gotten the walls the same color as the floor like that? How were they both so shiny? The only similarities between this floor and the one below were the same steel doors. Would the Enforcer open them the same way? I’d be sure to pay attention.

“Human 1974332997, your room is in 635. Please continue in an orderly fashion to your new stay.”

It was here that the urge to find out got really strong. It was like a switch had been flipped, and my calm confidence had left me with no warning. Up until now, through all the moving, I had been observing. I had been planning, looking for an escape. And maybe it had been denial, shock, or the pain serving as a distraction of what this all really means, but up until now I truly believed I could find it. I could just look around and find a place to run to that they wouldn’t be able to stop me, just like in the woods. But the thing was, this wasn’t the woods. This was a highly organized, strategically designed, prison, crafted to keep humans like me in. Permanently. And… realistically, facts, history, and my luck all said that escape wasn’t an option for me. This was it. I was going to rot in this new room I’d be shoved into. And suddenly, all of my little planning and thinking and looking around felt pointless, useless. Adrenaline dumped into me and my heart sped up in response. My mind started whispering, “Now or never. This is your one shot. Don’t waste it. Don’t stop fighting now!”. And I listened. Because seeing the doors, the numbers, forced to sit with the fact that this was supposed to be it and I’d have no idea how to get out of this room once placed, well, that was f*****g terrifying. I analyzed my surroundings again, hoping and praying there’d be some way out. Some way to run back into the elevator without the Enforcer following, and figure out how to operate it to get down to the proper floor that had the real exit. Away from the cells locked in steel, away from the Repairers and Scrappers, away from the doors and endless hallways. Some place that actually functioned normally. A place with windows and doors and real light. A place with hope, instead of the dreadful feeling that this was the end.

I staggered back, my vision tunneling, cutting out everything but what I saw directly in front of me, the steel door perpendicular to the elevator, with the number 601 plastered next to it. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. Everything was going a bit hazy. My breathing felt erratic. This wasn’t like me. I was good at handling the tough stuff, at finding my way out, I was good at surviving. It’s what I did. And yet… I… couldn’t… breathe. Out. Need out. Can’t… be… here…

I took another stumbling step back, ignoring the way my foot trembled under the weight. It didn’t hurt. Why didn’t it hurt? Shouldn’t it hurt? I felt numb. My face felt hot. Was I drunk? I felt drunk. No, I felt… sick. Like every illness I’d ever had, decided to get revenge and all combine forces. Nausea, a strange stuffiness in my head that made my brain feel filled with cotton, an alarming rattle with every forced breath of air, a strange heat that crept up to my face that made me sweat and shake. What was wrong with me?

My breathing picked up faster, and my heartbeat followed suit to keep up.

Bum bump, bum bump, bum bump.

In and out, in and out, that was what breathing was supposed to look like. Mine seemed to be more along the lines of in, in, out, in, out, in, out, out, in. I was hyperventilating. Like I had when I first started track in middle-school and didn’t know how to control my breathing yet. I started feeling lightheaded, my heart going faster.

Bumbumpbumbumpbumbump

Elevator. In the elevator. Find out. Get out. Out now.

The Enforcer had turned to look at me I think, its monotone voice muffled and wobbly sounding in my head. Words didn’t seem to make sense anymore. What was wrong with me? What was happening? I was fine just a few moments ago. I was fine…

Everything had been under control. I had a plan. I… I didn’t need to be scared. Being scared didn’t fix anything. Panicking didn’t solve problems, just made them worse. So I shouldn’t be panicking. I should be calm. I should be in control. Why wasn’t I in control?

Why was nothing in my control?

I felt a pressure on my back and realized in a daze that the Enforcer was pushing me forward, away from the elevator. And the second I was forced to move, something in me… snapped.

Next thing I know, a bright red cloud was fogging my vision, and I slammed my hand into the side of the Enforcer’s head as fast as I could. Whipping around to look at it as I started screaming and wailing on the machine furiously. I didn’t seem to care that my weak little punches- even with my full body weight behind them- wouldn’t do even the smallest of scratches, I didn’t seem to acknowledge that this was bruising and tearing at my hands with every strike. I couldn’t hear a thing except the blood rushing through my ears, couldn’t feel a thing except for the slowly growing sore, scratchy, sensation clawing through my throat. I felt absolutely feral, a human being replaced by the primal instincts to escape, to get away from the danger. I was an animal clawing and scratching to get out. Seven years of hiding, channeled into a moment of anger, a moment of a fighting instinct I honestly didn’t know I had. Not like this. Not this raw, animalistic, screeching, thing that had taken over my body. I felt disconnected again, but this time it was different. In place of the paralysis I normally faced in this state, it was like a possession instead. All my pure, unfiltered, anger rushing out and spewing in this mess that logic said hurt me more than it. And yet, it was driven by the same thought as the usual trigger.

My life will never be the same again. This moment changes everything.

And as usual, I was right. Oh how I hated that I was right.

My body was bloody, bruised, and utterly exhausted within minutes, and yet the Enforcer hadn’t made a single strike against me. It was covered in my blood, sweat, and tears. When did I start crying? I watched more than felt the machine grab me by the wrists and start forcefully pulling me down the hall to the right, where the numbers were steadily going up. I screamed and cried the whole way there, digging my good heel into the ground, forcing my body to go completely limp, the whole spiel. I felt like a child. I felt like a little girl throwing a tantrum while the adult easily dragged me along. I had no control over this. My protest meant nothing. And the tougher, more prideful, part of me, the part that aided my survival for seven years, told me to shut up. Stop my whining. I wasn’t accomplishing anything, I wasn’t helping myself or anyone else. I was being a fool. This was only hurting me more, and wasting what little energy I had left. Why was I acting like this? Screaming and crying like a weak, pathetic, child instead of handling this in a more mature, productive way. And yet, the other part of me couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop a single cry from my lips, couldn’t force a single joint to still, couldn’t get myself to stand on my own feet- or foot- and I certainly couldn’t suppress the fear and anger warring inside of me for control. Because this was the part of me I had suppressed for years.

And look where it had gotten me? In the exact same place as everyone else.

I remember begging, crying, screaming for mercy, “no” a repetitive word on my lips as I watched in horror as the machine’s gaze locked onto the door of room 635. And slowly, oh so slowly, it opened. Bit by bit, until I was shoved inside and tossed to the ground, the Enforcers body blocking the opening. Though, I was too weak to stand at this point.

I looked up just in time to see its cold, silver gaze staring blankly at me in indifference.

“Human 1974332997, you will remain in your quarters until morning. If you do not comply, measures will need to be taken to ensure your vital signs are regulated. Please do not-”

I didn’t let it finish, blood pooling in my face as I held my breath, all the remaining anger rushing up from my chest into my throat in seconds.

“F**K YOU!”

My throat was already raspy from my nonsensical screaming, so the curse sounded more brittle and raspy than I had hoped for. But apparently, it was the final straw for this Enforcer. Apparently, even machine’s had a limit for the hysteria they tolerated. Because a second later, I saw it raise it’s hand, felt a sharp pain in my neck, and I was out like a light. No time to even think about any of the mind-boggling events that had just occurred.

Author's Note

I'd love feedback on how coherent this comes across. I want Velise to come across in this chapter as very... reactive. She wants to be calm and often is good at thinking rationally in stress. But this specific situation is triggering a lot of trauma, and she's pushed down her emotions for so long that it sort of bubbles back up. I'd love feedback on if that's the message that comes across or if I need to work on this more.