It had started again. Cassandra crinkled her eyes and wrapped her thin arms around her knees as the bright lights circled the room. This could only mean one thing: the machines in white armour were coming, coming for her. A cry echoed from the next cell, startling the young woman out of her daze. She had to get out, get out before the White Army took away her secret, obliterated her and the memory she had ever existed outside of this shell. She would not become one of them; one of the ghosts of a long lost humanity that lingered in the South Wing. Cassandra did not know with certainty what took place behind the cold stone walls, but she knew none ever escaped.
It was all because of the Spy Network, of course. It infiltrated lives, homes, the very corners of one’s mind, until, unable to ward it off, the masses became one with it, turned into sub-human units roaming the polluted streets, head gear and interface wired on their bodies like an awkward robotic limb. But – and this was all part of its great plan Cassie had no doubt-, the Network purred its propaganda into weak ears pulling each and every victim into its cradle willingly. For willing they were! Cassie reminisced, chills running down her spine, images of the outside world flashing through her mind: people wired on the streets, one the train, in cafes, insensitive to others around them… they were taking over, over, everything was speeding too fast, she couldn’t breathe… NO!!!!!
A loud thumping on the metal door chased the thoughts away and replaced them with an imminent sense of foreboding. The door creaked and there it was, in all of its magnetic terror: one of them, an Android in white armour, its metallic gear gleaming under the gaslights.
“How are we today, Cassandra?” the device asked in low monochord electrical tones. She did not answer, but braced herself for what was to come. The guardian interfaces were programmed to project a caring, almost cheerful exterior, but Cassie knew it was nothing but a ruse to get her to relinquish her humanity and accept the outside world. It’s not real, it’s not real, she repeated herself as she was guided through the cold, narrow corridor. This world was after all but a complex alternate virtual reality modeled to keep the population in line. Feed them pleasure, feed them entertainment, no matter how perverse, and you were guaranteed to keep the flock dumbed down and where you wanted it. But not her, and this was why she, along with everyone else in this place, were entrapped within these walls until conformity or the South Wing hit them. Of course, Cassie could have gone on living her life knowing the truth without any repercussion from the State, but one day, living without screens, and head gears and interfaces was simply not enough; she had to get out of this place altogether. In a fit of panic mingled with rage, she had swiped the nearest razor blade over her wrist, wildly hoping to destroy this flesh and blood avatar and wake up in a world where everyone was free and androids only existed in nightmares. She had come close, oh so close! It was the only possible explanation as to why the Androids of the Spy Network had caught her: they knew that she knew. It had to be it.
They had arrived at destination and the white geared device helped Cassie in an uncomfortable plastic chair that obviously had seen better days. Other convicts were also being brought in, some already fascinated, despite themselves, by the communication screens strategically gracing the walls. Cassie assumed that it was how whoever was in charge in this place was watching them, carefully monitoring their every breath, every stare, every fluctuation in their moods… She also suspected that this attempt to have open up to the screen was but a way to single out the resilient ones, the ones bound to the South Wing. The Androids were circling the room again, this time with trays of water and food. The young woman exchanged a knowing glance with the convict sitting next to her. She too knew. Anya – this was her name- had been there for even longer than Cassie after she had tried to help a wired person on the street back to humanity. For this, she was never coming out.
Over time, each of them had tried to resist the drugs they were force fed to be kept unconscious and obedient. The outcome had been the same every time: they had woken a few days later, bruised, numb minded and with an array of needles slapped on their arms. The two women had met in the experiment room. Pretending to be absorbed by the contents of the communication screens, they had quickly seen allies in each other through their knowledge of the Spy Network’s plans and their desire to escape and overthrow this cursed virtual reality. And today was D-day.
Their plan was quite simple. As one of the Androids came their way with the trays of food, Anya would create a diversion while Cassie would attempt to damage its computer system with any weapon at their disposal, which at the moment summed itself up to chairs and knives. Despite the high improbability of destroying a high tech warrior machine with plastic chairs and blunt knives, Cassie and Anya hoped that their stunt would create enough confusion for them to glean the Code Card from their weakened and distracted target and dash to the South Wing to unleash what could be salvaged of the victims. Their enterprise was reckless, but complete annihilation was still a better option than rotting in this place.
The metallic clanking of the food tray was ringing in the distance. It was time. The young women’s eyes locked in one last anxious stare and with a quick grip of Cassie’s fingers, Anya charged towards the unsuspecting device, screaming. As her friend struggled with the lustrous white figure, Cassie impulsively grabbed the nearest knife and raced in aid of her companion. In perfect awareness that her attack was futile, but unable to control her vengeful impulse, Cassie ran her weapon into the Android’s back with all the desperate strength of the condemned. Expecting nothing but to feel the throbbing after shock of the blow on her arm and witness the unscratched armour of her foe, Cassie dropped her weapon in a horror and triumph mingled shock as the shining mail was no longer immaculate white; it was red.
Anya had already fled with the key to the South Ward as two Androids roughly grabbed Cassie’s arms and another proceeded to attend to its fallen comrade, who, Cassie saw for the first time, her eyes twinkling with a panicked, helpless gleam, that her enemy was not metal and wire, but flesh and blood. The white uniforms were the not impenetrable armour of the deadly White Army, but the white robes of the medical orderly. It was too late, Cassie feebly thought. You… have… done… this to me…, she mumbled as she lost control over her limbs, her eyes rolled in her sockets and a sharp needle nested itself in her arm.
In an office of the southern building, the head doctor was sitting at his desk, two files opened in front of him:
Cassandra Hamilton: Relapsed Internet addict, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
Anya Black: Diagnosed with clinical insanity and charged with multiple assaults.
There was nothing more anyone could do, the head of the Facility repeated himself, these girls were beyond saving, he added for the sake of a clear conscience, as he signed the papers to their transfer. They were bound to the South Wing, high security ward for the violent and the criminally insane.
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