You can’t forget. The words kept replaying in my thoughts. They were words that held a significant meaning, one that I couldn’t recall.
“Forty-Six,” a harsh voice called out. “Can you hear me, Forty-Six?”
I knew that I should have answered. I knew that a response was expected of me. I could feel the words trying to escape, but they never made it past my lips. I was too lost in my thoughts. I’d been consumed by the images of a girl that kept replaying in my mind. Images of a girl; one that I knew I shouldn’t have known, but did.
“His memories are stronger than hers,” a male voice called out. I felt my body jolt as a hand clamped down on my shoulder, forcing my eyes open. “How is that possible?”
A petite woman stood before me, a small tablet held out in her hands. Her eyes looked over the screen briefly before looking back up at me. “He is stronger than her, Harold. He has retained more of his human identity than Thirteen.”
I leaned forward in the chair, the restraints binding my wrists – the only things keeping me from moving closer towards her. It was as though with each word she spoke, I felt myself being pulled towards her; as though she was in control of my every action – of me.
“But if he’s stronger than her, that makes him dangerous. Shouldn’t we alert your brother, Mrs. Ward?” The old man who I had presumed to be Harold leaned against a metal desk, clutching his wire frame glasses tightly in his right hand.
I could sense his nervousness across the room. I could hear his heart beating inside of his chest as anxiety overcame him. He was the complete opposite of Mrs. Ward.
She remained calm, and collected, as she leaned down and released the straps binding my wrists. Fear did not radiate off of her like it had Harold. She was a blank state, someone that I was unable to read, and that was a rather terrifying thought.
A clicking noise sounded from behind me, and was quickly followed by a tugging sensation near the small of my back. I tried to ease myself out of the chair, but my found myself unable to stand.
“What’s wrong with him?” Harold asked. He took a step forward, careful to retain a safe distance between us.
“His body is trying to adjust,” Mrs. Ward answered.
“His body should’ve adjusted during the transformation. The programing should’ve erased his human identity. He’s of no use to us like this. You can’t control him like this!”
I tried to make sense of their conversation, trying to analyze each and every word, but it was as though my thoughts were at war with one another.
Nothing was making sense. But I knew that the girl? I had to remember her. I couldn’t lose the image of her face, even if I didn’t know her.
“Come, Forty-Six,” Mrs. Ward said, pressing her tablet to her chest as she reached for my hand.
“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing up at her before taking to my feet.
“To see an old friend of yours,” she said, smiling smugly as she did so. “He’ll be quite pleased with how you’ve turned out.”
LOG 04613:
One would think being surrounded by so much death would make you automatically immune to the emotional pain it brought with it, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Sometimes I felt as though I was the only living person within these walls.
None of them seemed bothered by killing innocent people.
They were so convinced that were they were doing was okay; that they were helping to fix our world. It was pitiful just how blind they’d been to the truth.
They weren’t fixing shit.
All they were doing was destroying everything in their paths.
They lived for destruction and ruin.
They lived for power and control.
It hadn’t mattered that their choices affected the lives of others. It hadn’t mattered that they were basically committing murder. None of that mattered to them.
What mattered was that they assumed absolute control.
It was always about control.
We were all mere pawns in their game.
And the only way we’d be able to survive was if we were strong enough to rise up against the monsters threatening to destroy us.