How About Them Apples? (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
applespice) wrote2011-05-22 02:25 pm
applespice) wrote2011-05-22 02:25 pm
LJ Idol - Week 26 - Open Topic - Underworld
Water comes down the walls, dripdripdrip, and I know it is daylight overhead and the ice is melting. I wish I could see the sky all white with sun, and the ice fields glittering as they weep under that bright eye. Instead all I see are the bleak walls of my prison, and I hear the water dripping to remind me that the days are getting warmer and longer in the world that has forgotten me.
I have been here for five years, ever since the Tests when I was thirteen. Before then I pretended to be ignorant and it worked, because I am a good actress and my mother taught me well. But you can't fool the Tests, because the Tests are machines that look right inside your head and see what's crawling around in there. I know how difficult it is to trick machines - I know this because machines are my specialty, and the reason that I'm here.
Two days after the Tests the men in suits came knocking at our apartment door. We were waiting for them. My mother was crying in loud, gusting sobs, but I didn't cry at all. I was too afraid to cry. I felt as though my heart had turned to a lump of snow inside my chest.
"Why are you weeping, Mrs. Kahale? You should be proud. Your daughter is very intelligent - the highest score we've ever seen in this region on the Mechanics Test. This is an opportunity she is being given, not a punishment..."
But my mother kept crying, because she knew that was a lie. The men dressed up their pretty words in soothing voices, but no matter what they said about "serving the country" or "the best and the brightest," my mother knew that she would never see me again and that was that.
That day the men took me and my suitcase and put us both on a plane. The windows of the plane were black, so I had no idea where they were taking me. I was alone, apart from some new men in suits that looked just like the old ones, and I sat in silence and felt my heart of snow melt into icy water and drain away.
When I was taken off the plane that first day I saw my only glimpse of the place where I live - an endless stretch of ice and sky - before I was taken underground. Since then I have not seen the world above me, not once in five years. All I see are blanks walls and fluorescent lights, tools and computer screens. Even the air I breathe is artificial and unsatisfying.
Now I only know the difference between day and night by the water on the walls. "This is a government institution," they say, "everything is under control," but they can't seem to keep the water out. When the water streams down the walls we know the sun is up, and because we aren't supposed to know it we feel a tiny spark of happiness. It is proof that they can't control everything.
We build machines here, of course. All of the people in this place, apart from the men in suits (there are always the men in suits) and the guards, are Mechanics. The Tests found us and plucked us out of our lives and sent us here to "serve the country" by building its machines, and this is what we do every single day. Some people build computers, some people build vehicles, some people build the instruments of war. Some people even build more of the machines that give the Tests, though I'm sure this is very hard for them. I am building something different - something new. I am building the automatons.
Really, they are not called automatons. They are called "personal service systems." I call them automatons because my mother read me a book when I was little that used that word. They are the most beautiful things I have seen since the sky and the sun, and even though I hate this place I can't find it in myself to hate what I have built here.
The automatons do many different things. One I built for cleaning, one for construction, one for security. I even built one for companionship. That one was very popular with the men in suits. I built it just like a real person, and they told me that an Artist (these are also Tested for) would design it a synthetic skin and no one would ever know that it wasn't just another human being.
"No one except the person who paid for it," I replied, and the men in suits laughed.
The companionship automaton is the best thing I have done, because it afforded me some freedom inside my prison. The men in suits must be making quite a bit of money off it. Now I am allowed to tinker all I want once I have finished my daily assignments, in hopes that I will come up with something equally brilliant and expensive.
So now I am allowed to build machines just for myself, under the guise of "working out" something new and exciting for the men in suits. At first I decided to build myself a pet, but the five years have fuzzed my memory a little so my cat does not look entirely like a cat. She is beautiful, though, and I have named her Mirabelle. She sits on the edge of my table right now, mewing contentedly at me with her little metal voice.
"Hush, Mirabelle," I say, just like she is a real cat, and tap her on the end of her nose. I am glad she's here with me, but I am working very hard right now and need to focus. My newest project is almost finished. The men in suits are beside themselves about it.
"Is it a battle service system?" they ask me, their eyes gleaming. "All those arms!"
"All in good time," I say mysteriously, with a tiny knowing smile on my face.
I tighten the last wire and close the central console. The lights come on inside the little passenger bay, and a cool woman's voice says, "Persephone on line." Persephone is another name from the book my mother used to read me. I thought it was fitting.
I climb into the passenger bay with Mirabelle just as the first men come through my workroom door.
"You finished it!" There are smiles on every face as I close the hatch behind me. Mirabelle curls up around my feet as I buckle my harness.
"Three potential targets," says Persephone. "Engage?"
"Ignore," I reply. "Take us to the surface."
"Yes, Lani." It is good to hear my name. I smile as Persephone's metal legs unfurl and push us off the floor.
Looks of delight are fading from the men's faces now as Persephone rises above them. I can see the confusion in their eyes from behind the thick glass windows of the bay. I push a button on the console.
"Please move out of the way, gentlemen. We are coming through."
Persephone begins to move, her metal joints smooth as human bones. Two of the men flee back out into the corridor, but the last is flung aside by one of Persephone's arms as it reaches to tear through the wall. I am pleased to see that there is no trouble on that account - we pass through the wall as if it was paper.
There is a lot of noise in the corridor now, alarms mostly. A few guards run toward us with their guns, but Persephone's protective systems engage before they can even raise the weapons to fire. It's unfortunate that the men in suits did not think to staff this compound with my security automatons - they are much sturdier. But I suppose that would have been too trusting.
Persephone's guidance systems locate the exit easily. She is very smart - smarter even than I am. Her arms make short work of the metal door, even as the men in suits scream and run before us, milling around her many legs. I almost feel sorry for them, but my heart is beating furiously at the thought of seeing the sun again, the open sky. Heat is flooding back into my chest after five years of cold emptiness.
The last of the metal is torn away. The sound of machine guns echoes around me, but I am untouchable, unstoppable. I am leaning forward, my mouth open in a laugh, as the light comes streaming down across my face.
I have been here for five years, ever since the Tests when I was thirteen. Before then I pretended to be ignorant and it worked, because I am a good actress and my mother taught me well. But you can't fool the Tests, because the Tests are machines that look right inside your head and see what's crawling around in there. I know how difficult it is to trick machines - I know this because machines are my specialty, and the reason that I'm here.
Two days after the Tests the men in suits came knocking at our apartment door. We were waiting for them. My mother was crying in loud, gusting sobs, but I didn't cry at all. I was too afraid to cry. I felt as though my heart had turned to a lump of snow inside my chest.
"Why are you weeping, Mrs. Kahale? You should be proud. Your daughter is very intelligent - the highest score we've ever seen in this region on the Mechanics Test. This is an opportunity she is being given, not a punishment..."
But my mother kept crying, because she knew that was a lie. The men dressed up their pretty words in soothing voices, but no matter what they said about "serving the country" or "the best and the brightest," my mother knew that she would never see me again and that was that.
That day the men took me and my suitcase and put us both on a plane. The windows of the plane were black, so I had no idea where they were taking me. I was alone, apart from some new men in suits that looked just like the old ones, and I sat in silence and felt my heart of snow melt into icy water and drain away.
When I was taken off the plane that first day I saw my only glimpse of the place where I live - an endless stretch of ice and sky - before I was taken underground. Since then I have not seen the world above me, not once in five years. All I see are blanks walls and fluorescent lights, tools and computer screens. Even the air I breathe is artificial and unsatisfying.
Now I only know the difference between day and night by the water on the walls. "This is a government institution," they say, "everything is under control," but they can't seem to keep the water out. When the water streams down the walls we know the sun is up, and because we aren't supposed to know it we feel a tiny spark of happiness. It is proof that they can't control everything.
We build machines here, of course. All of the people in this place, apart from the men in suits (there are always the men in suits) and the guards, are Mechanics. The Tests found us and plucked us out of our lives and sent us here to "serve the country" by building its machines, and this is what we do every single day. Some people build computers, some people build vehicles, some people build the instruments of war. Some people even build more of the machines that give the Tests, though I'm sure this is very hard for them. I am building something different - something new. I am building the automatons.
Really, they are not called automatons. They are called "personal service systems." I call them automatons because my mother read me a book when I was little that used that word. They are the most beautiful things I have seen since the sky and the sun, and even though I hate this place I can't find it in myself to hate what I have built here.
The automatons do many different things. One I built for cleaning, one for construction, one for security. I even built one for companionship. That one was very popular with the men in suits. I built it just like a real person, and they told me that an Artist (these are also Tested for) would design it a synthetic skin and no one would ever know that it wasn't just another human being.
"No one except the person who paid for it," I replied, and the men in suits laughed.
The companionship automaton is the best thing I have done, because it afforded me some freedom inside my prison. The men in suits must be making quite a bit of money off it. Now I am allowed to tinker all I want once I have finished my daily assignments, in hopes that I will come up with something equally brilliant and expensive.
So now I am allowed to build machines just for myself, under the guise of "working out" something new and exciting for the men in suits. At first I decided to build myself a pet, but the five years have fuzzed my memory a little so my cat does not look entirely like a cat. She is beautiful, though, and I have named her Mirabelle. She sits on the edge of my table right now, mewing contentedly at me with her little metal voice.
"Hush, Mirabelle," I say, just like she is a real cat, and tap her on the end of her nose. I am glad she's here with me, but I am working very hard right now and need to focus. My newest project is almost finished. The men in suits are beside themselves about it.
"Is it a battle service system?" they ask me, their eyes gleaming. "All those arms!"
"All in good time," I say mysteriously, with a tiny knowing smile on my face.
I tighten the last wire and close the central console. The lights come on inside the little passenger bay, and a cool woman's voice says, "Persephone on line." Persephone is another name from the book my mother used to read me. I thought it was fitting.
I climb into the passenger bay with Mirabelle just as the first men come through my workroom door.
"You finished it!" There are smiles on every face as I close the hatch behind me. Mirabelle curls up around my feet as I buckle my harness.
"Three potential targets," says Persephone. "Engage?"
"Ignore," I reply. "Take us to the surface."
"Yes, Lani." It is good to hear my name. I smile as Persephone's metal legs unfurl and push us off the floor.
Looks of delight are fading from the men's faces now as Persephone rises above them. I can see the confusion in their eyes from behind the thick glass windows of the bay. I push a button on the console.
"Please move out of the way, gentlemen. We are coming through."
Persephone begins to move, her metal joints smooth as human bones. Two of the men flee back out into the corridor, but the last is flung aside by one of Persephone's arms as it reaches to tear through the wall. I am pleased to see that there is no trouble on that account - we pass through the wall as if it was paper.
There is a lot of noise in the corridor now, alarms mostly. A few guards run toward us with their guns, but Persephone's protective systems engage before they can even raise the weapons to fire. It's unfortunate that the men in suits did not think to staff this compound with my security automatons - they are much sturdier. But I suppose that would have been too trusting.
Persephone's guidance systems locate the exit easily. She is very smart - smarter even than I am. Her arms make short work of the metal door, even as the men in suits scream and run before us, milling around her many legs. I almost feel sorry for them, but my heart is beating furiously at the thought of seeing the sun again, the open sky. Heat is flooding back into my chest after five years of cold emptiness.
The last of the metal is torn away. The sound of machine guns echoes around me, but I am untouchable, unstoppable. I am leaning forward, my mouth open in a laugh, as the light comes streaming down across my face.
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I'd really like to try and publish something after this whole experience... I feel much more confident with my short fiction now (before I thought I was awful at it). There are some stories that I REALLY love that I've written this year.
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...I wanna robot :(
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Actually, this totally made me think of River Tam from Firefly.
Also, I like how its suggested here that "serving your country" and "working for an enormous corporation to make profitable items" have become synonymous in the future. They are nearly synonymous now!
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Big business runs our lives, man.
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