Project Gemini (WATTYS 2016 WINNER!)

Chapter Two - The Prime Minister's Presence.

BRIGHT LIGHTS RIMMED her eyelids. Eva tilted her head up, away from the light, but it kept on shining burning into her irises. Quiet voices murmured in the background, speaking indistinctly to themselves. A spike of pain jolted through her skull as the sound drummed on the inside of her brain. She gritted her teeth, biting her cheeks. Pounding and vibrating in her head. She tried to move but her arms refused to budge, pinned down by something much stronger than her.

". . . she's coming around," a woman said.

"Already?" a man said.

Her eyelids fluttered partway open. Two blurry white figures stood in front of her.

"Heart rate rising."

"Increase the dosage—."

"No! He wants her awake . . ."

"Then what would you have me do?" he asked.

"Leave her."

Blood thundered in her ears. One word drilled into her head.

PARIAH.

Her eyes snapped open. Four metallic walls bounced light back at her. The tails of two lab coats swished behind a door that bolted shut at the right second. She was alone. She sucked in a breath through her mouth and spat the metallic taste of blood onto the floor. Handcuffs secured her wrists to the arms of the chair, which too was bolted to the floor as was the table in front of her, but the handcuffs had some leeway – a foot or so of chain.

Someone had bandaged her hand, one last civil liberty she guessed. Wires draped against her head—EEG cables reading brainwave activity, she knew that much science—led to a computer screen beside her. Like a rat in a lab. In the corners of the room a camera sat, each with its own blinking red light. Active, watching, and recording.

Where the hell am I?

It clicked in her head. All the memories slotting together from last night like some rancid hangover.

You destroyed a building.

So this was the screening for her shipment to the Badlands, off to exile to live with all the other Pariahs. The only door to the room clicked and opened. A police officer stepped in and looked at her.

"You have a visitor," he said.

Someone shuffled and a man stepped in sporting an expensive suit with an upmarket phone poking out of his pocket. She didn't think twice about trying to run, she could see security all down the corridors. She shuffled upright and winced, a sharp pain darted up her neck.

The man muttered something in the police officer's ear and a few seconds later he shut the door behind him. A twinge of recognition stirred within her and she stared at the back of his head. He turned and she recognised him straight away. His face was plastered on every government building in the country and on every street poster. Her father's boss.

Oh crap.

She needed to get out of here. Fast.

"Miss Saunders," he said, holding a small china cup of tea. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Take off the cuffs," she said.

"I apologise for the measures they took with you." He smiled. "You know how scientists are, they get carried away."

Her eyes darted to the prepared syringes on the tray in the corner of the room. She glowered.

"I wouldn't call that science."