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

Chapter 3

Maid twenty-seven clenched her teeth, her mind running through everything she knew about this girl next to her. Her calloused hands were held tightly in front of her, clasped together as she walked. Her navy-blue uniform was itchy and uncomfortable — more for show than use, and the white hairband that combed back her hair wasn't much better. She missed having her hair down, in all its long curls and golden colour.

She missed a lot of things, and she was starting to fear that one day, she would start to forget. She had met all the other maids and servants in the dining hall and knew them all too well. Some told of stories alike to their pasts, and when she came with the first wave, they told her stories of all wonder, beauty, destiny and imagination. But later on, after all her months, the stories started to dim. They went from the highest gossip to the most silent of murmurs, sometimes so rare, when it happened, no one missed out on the opportunity to remember.

They had all been brainwashed, spending hours upon hours of labour on the soldiers, officers and guests. When they weren't doing so, they were worked in the hidden depths of the mines suffering whips, harsh words and strenuous tasks. Dirty and beaten down until their minds were emptied of nothing else but pain and a broken soul, none talked anymore. None were strong anymore. Anyone who dared to ever disobey or retort went to bed at the end of the day, but never showed up the next. No one that ever retorted was seen again.

In fact, even though she had only ever worked on the second, fourth and sixth days, she knew what happened to those who worked everyday. They always had this look in their eyes. One that made her squirm in discomfort, even if they never looked at her. The look was one of someone dead. Someone who had been broken so completely, there were no such things as memories anymore. They didn't seem to have the will to live any longer, they didn't know what words were — what their own names were anymore. There was no such thing as light anymore.

She was starting to see why.

Even she had begun to forget her own name.

⚙ ⚙ ⚙

I paid no notice to the girl as I entered my room. It was a small area, but it was tidy, crisp, and blank.

White, everything that surrounded me was white. It was like as if an explosion of light had happened in the room, painting all the walls the colour of snow. It was blinding to the eyes like snow too. Although I don't even remember how I knew what snow was.

Everything was silent, and there were no windows, only the small, single bed with its quilt and pillow, not a crease in the blanket. A simple lamp sat on a bedside table, and a wardrobe sat next to it. Attached onto the doors of the wardrobe imbedded a large mirror that reached from head to toe. It reflected what it saw, making the room feel bigger.

I sighed, and took in a deep breath, scenting the faint smell of detergent and bleach. This was my dorm. This was my home for the rest of my life. This is my home.

Suddenly, a wave of fatigue washed over me, and I swayed on my feet. I needed to rest. The surgical process must have taken its toll on me. I turned, and met the girl's gaze. Giving her a strict nod, she returned it to me and went out the door, taking my gesture as an act of dismissal.

Walking unsteadily towards my bed, I passed by the mirror, and paused in my tracks. What I saw shocked me, even though it shouldn't have. My jaw slowly loosened and went slack. Carefully, I reached out my fleshed hand towards the mirror, my eyes widening by the minute. The glass felt cool beneath my fingertips as I traced my face — the sharpness of my cheeks, the age that rested there. Then my eyes. My eyes, that were... silver.

They weren't just a grey or bluish green either. They were metallic. They were unnatural. They were like the Lieutenant Generals'.

Then they flashed, my mind started to weave a colour into them, gradually lightening them, then darkening them, my eyes seeing hallucinations for a just that split second.