--A quick writing exercise. Feel free to dissect it.--
She was wet, and cold. Both of these conditions annoyed her. Greatly.
She heard the words as they spoke, and she nodded when it was appropriate. She shook. Her tiny, taut frame twitched, and shook sporadically as her concentration wavered. She learned where she was -- a Ministry of Internal Order station, Penirgman system -- but not the why.
She didn't like it.
***
It took a day for her to get over feeling cold and dirty. Not unclean, really, just a feeling of oiliness on her skin. A lingering feeling of dampness that slowly muted, and finally faded away completely after prayer the next day. She hated prayer. 'They' knew it too, and that annoyed her the most.
They never took the bindings off of her wrists. Polycarbon construction from what she could tell, near impossible to get off without the proper tools. There was more electronics on it than she thought the simple lock would need, so she figured it was rigged to somehow punish her should she try to escape.
So, she waited. Almost half a day she waited, wondering every moment what she had been brought back for.
Just as she was beginning to get hungry again, a new person entered her tiny holding cell. Not a guard, or an administrator. He wore golden robes, holier-than-thou look on his face, she knew he was important. That aggravated her, and his eyes...
"I see you have already eaten, my child."
Child? She hated that term. Definitely holier-than-thou. "Get on with it, old man." She kicked the empty plate that had held her lunch towards his feet, which he effortlessly stopped with his right foot. He wore boots. Military issue, worn in. The old man's eyes were surveying the room, taking in all the details. He did not belong in that place, she thought to herself. Something was not right about him.
"We need you to look at something."
She smirked. "Look? I bet you want me to do more than that." She almost purred the words, as she slowly slunk back farther into her cell. "Which one of my -- talents -- are you needing?"
"Visual analysis and correlation work. Possibly some decryption. Nothing that should be too challenging for you. It may take some time, however."
The smirk on her face shifted to a frown as she rolled her eyes and sighed. "For **** sake, you could have had me done with that and back in storage before dinner last night. Why the delay?"
He smiled slowly. "Something has happened. You will be briefed en route to the cloning facility."
She pressed her lips together. Her fingers twitched, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. "Why are you here? Who are you?"
The old man smiled and turned away, and walked out of the cell. Before the door slid shut, he said, "I represent someone with mutual interests."
Realization of what was occurring finally dawned on her, and she felt sick for not realizing sooner what was happening. "I won't do it! I won't do it I tell you! Not again! Not--"
The door to her cell shut, and the lights dimmed. Her protests deteriorated into screaming, sobbing and crying.
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Topic: [Fiction] L. S. (Read 779 times)