Gears (NaNoWriMo 2017) (#1 Below the Machines)

Chapter 2

They took me into a room, just as white as the last to the human eye. But my eyes scanned the area, and my system taught me that this was metal. Bolts and pins held large iron sheets in place, painted over with spray cans. The tiles beneath my feet were polished and hard. The door closed behind me with a groan, the heaviness showing me how thick the walls were. Four walls, a door, a ceiling, and a ground.

And a window.

Almost invisible from sight, my eyes narrowed in on the irregular ordering of the metal, finding the screws that were placed specifically in a large, rectangular shape. The window was made of bullet-proof plastic — this was my bet — and it was obviously one sided. I was being watched.

I wasn't surprised. They all seemed to be watching me. I was an oddity. I was a wonder.

I wonder what I could do.

Then the door opened once again, and the man with the red uniform came through the archway, his gun in his hand. The silver weapon glinted in the bright lights, as he stalks towards me, finger on the trigger.

My eyes widened. "Wh-" But my words were stolen out of my mouth, as he fired. The explosion of the bullet shook the room, the loud boom thundering in my heart — towards my heart. I focused on the whirl of the lead, the speed at which it came at me. Then a small, strange, thought formed in my mind in that infinitesimal second.

I want to survive.

At the last possible moment, my arm came up and my eyes squeezed shut, awaiting impact.

But it never came. The bullet had stopped. I had stopped the bullet. I had stopped a freaking bullet. Actually, it more or less bounced of my metal arm, but nevertheless, the force shook me from head to toe, compared to what felt like a thin spark of lightning.

I took a sharp intake of air.

I was alive. My heart was still beating.

This sent such a strong wave of relief into my body that I almost collapsed (my leg suddenly felt like jelly and my arm was quivering yet limp at my side). Slowly peeking out from underneath my arms, I saw that the man had put his gun on safety, tucking it back into the holster in his belt. Then he met my gaze, face emotionless, and so I bit my lip, studying him, afraid that he would try it again.

However, his lips pulled into what seemed to be an amused smirk. "Very well, you will be recruited." He said, taking his stare away.

I shook my head in disbelief, my jaw dropping open. Just like that? He shoots me and thinks that he can suddenly recruit me? And for what? My mind started to run through all of the different possibilities, my brain sorting through all the I had learnt — all that I had remembered. The way my mind worked, sorting through the information and breaking it down into the most logical sense. At first, my theory was scattered, but then it hit me, making my heart rate increase. I could only settle on the one thing. The uniform, the badges, the guns. The access to a hospital and laboratory. The way he walked, and the glint in his eye. The way he had opened fire without remorse, and the way those doctors had been examining me. He was a soldier. He was using me for an army. I was his weapon.

Heart and temperatures increasing. The words flashed across my mind like a faintly recalled memory, digitally written like some of the ancient display boards. I heard the faint sound of fans, like a soft breath of the wind, and slowly, I calmed myself.

There was no need for panic. There was no panic. His words were correct. He had been correct from the beginning. I was going to be a soldier. I was going to fight.

And I was going to listen.