Chapter Thirty-Four

Silence filled my ears like water, blocking out the noise from the outside world. It was completely quiet and still except for the double doors at the end of the hall swinging slowly back and forth. I stared, wishing to catch a glimpse between their swings, but seeing nothing as I watched them methodically moving until they slowed to a stop.

I had just seen one of the other androids bring someone in. The person had been grabbed by the creators instantly and dragged, kicking and screaming through the doors at the end of the hall. The android had left right away, thinking nothing more about what he had done, but I still stood there, reliving the human’s fear, the creators’ determination, the android’s indifference.

What were they doing? I felt like screaming. I walked forward, hearing my feet echo loudly and my pulse beat steadily to my footsteps, as if warning me of what awaited behind the doors. I stopped in front of the opaque windows. Whatever objects were stored behind it were distorted by the thick, murky glass. I stood there for a moment, thinking. I pressed my hand up against the window, feeling the cold of the glass seep through my skin and to the metal of my hand.

They had always told us to never set foot behind these doors. That what went on back there was none of our business. And also, unlike the others things they would tell us, they were firm and sometimes mean about it. The androids would make up stories about the rooms behind these doors; where we came from, how we were made, secrets to our lives, the way our bodies worked, the truth about what we were. I knew most of the androids, if given the chance, wouldn’t dare go past. We didn’t want to find that we were just a simple pile of metal and artificial body parts. We’d rather pretend that we were more. No one went back here. We all knew it was forbidden.

But right now, I realized, I didn’t care.

I looked up at my hands planted firmly against the glass and pushed. The weight of the doors surprised me, but didn’t stop my pace. I walked into the silent hallway, hearing the doors swish behind me, whispering, hissing at me to go back to where I was supposed to be. In front of me stretched out a long corridor with multiple doors on both sides, and although the walls and doors were painted a blinding white, the hallway seemed empty and dark. I walked along slowly and cautiously, peering through the windows.

Through one, I saw a long hallway of cells, almost like you’d see in an insane asylum. Inside the cells were people. They didn’t see me at first, but I noticed the girl who had just been brought in. She was lying on the floor of her cell, sobbing.

Just then, as if she could tell someone was watching, she looked up. Her piercing gaze bore into me and I stepped back from the window, alarmed. What was she doing there? My hands were beginning to shake slightly and I stared down at them, shocked.

I looked down the hallway and although every muscle in my body urged me to turn and run, I forced myself to walk to another door. I went towards its window, glancing around, as if a creator might be lurking behind one of the doors. I turned back and peered through the window, expecting to see more people, or mechanical parts, wires, and metal slabs. But as my gaze shifted to the center of the room, my breath caught in my throat and my chest constricted in horror.

On a table, some sort of operating table, laid a boy. A human boy. I had seen him being brought in earlier that week. His arm, which was extended out across the table, was sliced open from his shoulder down to his wrist exposing blood, bones and ... wires?

I let out a strangled cry of horror, backing quickly away from the door. I bumped into the wall behind me and doubled over, moaning and burying my head in my hands.

There were no words going through my mind, just unbridled revulsion to what I had seen. What had I expected to find? I wasn’t sure ... but I knew this wasn’t it. Was he dead? I couldn’t be sure.

Just then, I heard a door open and I looked up, adrenaline forcing me to my feet. I saw a creator at the end of the hallway—Glen.

He just stood there, staring at me for a moment. “Drew.” It wasn’t a greeting, or a question, or even an accusation. It was just ‘Drew’. A statement. “What are you doing here?” His voice hardened.

“I ...” I couldn’t bring any words to my mouth. I was too horrified.

“Leave.” His voice was glacial, his eyes glaring into mine.

Immediately, I turned and ran, not wanting anything more than to be as far away from these rooms as possible. I had never run like that before in my life. I ran like my life depended on it, shoving the double doors open and not looking back. I heard them creak in protest and then start their swinging. My bare feet made strange slapping sounds on the linoleum floor of the hallway as I raced away.

I didn’t want to be on the other side of those doors, ever. But hadn’t I once? The thought made me instantly sick to my stomach. I remembered the boy lying on the table, his arm cut open, the wires I had seen, the way he looked so helpless and almost dead.

I ran into my room, throwing the door to the bathroom open and made it just in time as I collapsed beside the toilet seat and threw up.

I wished I had never gone back there. I wished I had stopped after seeing the girl in her cell. I wished I hadn’t seen that boy. But those were wishes just as unrealistic as wishing for a normal life, to be away from the Institution. Wishing for a soul. If I hadn’t gone back there, I would never have forgiven myself. Curiosity would have haunted me forever.

“Knowledge is power,” Yvonne used to say to me in her usual mind set of “power is everything.” Yes, maybe that was true. The more you knew the more powerful you were. It made sense. But the other part of the saying was just as true. Ignorance was definitely bliss.

I had been okay with the way I was living. I had been okay with what I was. I had been okay with how I was treated. I had been okay with my situation.

Until now.

Because when I had looked at the body, face and arm of that boy lying on the table, a terrible reality dawned on me. They use them as templates. Yvonne’s words rang through my mind. I had never really thought about what that might mean. I had pictured those people in the back room with Glen, talking. How had I been so blind? From what I had seen of them afterwards I knew something hadn’t gone well ... but I had always thought of the creators taking information from them, draining things from their brains, extracting things from their minds ... not their bodies.