More Than a Machine

Questions

  

if ur still reading this i love u 

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"Are you going to take me apart?"

  This was the first time 642 had spoken. The first time he'd responded to any questions, but it was only to ask one of his own.

  Right now he was in some sort of interrogation room. He sat at a table in the middle of the room, with wrists fastened together in handcuffs.

  He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here or when he'd woken up. Even now, the tranquilizer still lingered in his system, making his brain foggy and his movements slow.

  642 had never been drugged before. This was powerful stuff.

  It made him even more uneasy. Tense.

  Right now, his biggest concern was to stay whole. At the moment he was still in full possession of his bionic arm and leg and he wanted to keep it that way. Maybe somehow he could make a deal with these men.

  Across the table sat two men, one large and muscular and the other of regular, thinner stature. Both of them had a pleasant demeanor. Pleasant enough, anyway, as they asked 642 questions about himself.

  "No, we're not going to take you apart," the thinner man replied. "So you think we're concerned about the Olium?" This man was the older of the two, with greying hair and a wrinkled face and intelligent eyes.

  He was ancient, but not as ancient as Gerald, 642 decided. No one was as ancient as Gerald.

  642 missed Gerald. That funny old fellow was always making a snarky comment about something.

  These men were no regular police officers. No, they were far above that. They knew too much.

  Upon first entering the room, these two men had introduced themselves, but 642 couldn't remember their names. He'd been too drugged at that point to comprehend anything.

  "Yes, I know you're concerned about the Olium," 642 replied. He looked the man in the eye as he said it, his gaze intent, almost daring the man to reveal their motives. "What do you want with it?"

  Something about 642's gaze unsettled the man. Even this man, who was ancient and must have seen and done so many things in his life. He looked away.

  "We're more concerned about you," the larger fellow said. He leaned forward in his seat. Rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. He met 642's gaze, and he held it, his eyes more steely and daring than the older man's. "Why did you come to Earth?"

  Ah, so someone finally believes me, 642 thought. No one had actually acknowledged the truth about his being from another planet before.

  642 studied this larger man very briefly.

  The man was, as Hunter had once said about someone in the Rocky movie, "shredded." He wore a dark shirt that strained around a pair of broad shoulders and toned muscles. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal a pair of muscular forearms and biceps that stood out from beneath the fabric.

  "Shredded" indeed. Intimidating to say the least.

  642 looked away, contempt rising. He knew, with no small amount of jealousy in the fact, that he had been every bit as muscular as this man before he'd let himself go.

  I could have kicked this guy's butt months ago. Now he could probably crush me.

  This was a harsh reality. Failure. Another failure to acknowledge.