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

Chapter 7

Maid 27 walked through the passageway, her eyes casted downwards as she avoided the other bustling servants. It had been an hour since she last left her mistress — since she fell asleep. Maid 27 almost thought that Pro 1 had looked peaceful and almost... innocent, as she lay there, unconscious. But then the memories of how she had sat there on her bed, slumped and bloodied as she stared into nothingness, the dead body on the ground with a perfect slit across his throat. She had her knife in her hand, her eyes blank and unblinking, looking at everything and yet looking at nothing.

She couldn't be trusted, and she shouldn't let herself get too attached to her mistress. Maid 27 sighed in almost-disappointment at herself. It shouldn't be this hard to not feel anything, but then and again, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl who has lost all her memories, can't speak and most of all, controlled by the military to be a bionic weapon. At first, her fear had been focused on herself — a fear of the girl who couldn't feel anything and could kill you in ten seconds flat.

But then when she saw the many weaknesses and loss in Pro 1, her fear turned from one of herself into one that feared for her mistress. She wanted to give her sympathy — to give her comfort and friendship. Something that would ease off her struggles in her life — things that would make her feel more human.

Even though she wasn't supposed to be human.

"27!" A girl shouted from behind Maid 27. As she turned her head, she caught the gaze of another maid, with her usually shoulder-long brown hair twisted into a bun at the top of her head — a trait that was common uniform. She had a red headband and a burgundy coat over her maid's plain checkered dress, which made her stand out against the crowds even more than her height already did.

"83." 27 acknowledged, she dipped her head in a nod. "What's the news? Maybe you've woken up two centimetres shorter this morning?"

Maid 83 glared at her friend, insulted. "I'll have you know that my height is none of your concern. You know, I'm actually still shorter than 42, and 90. I'm also younger than you, and don't you forget that."

Maid 27's face slowly lit up slightly at the corners of her mouth in a rare smile of amusement. "Just because you're younger than me, it doesn't mean that you're any shorter."

"Yeah right, it gives me a better chance to act more childish — if I act like a six-year-old, do you think I have a chance at shrinking back to that height?"

"You're only seven days younger than me, 83, I don't think that counts for much." Maid 27 pointed out, teasing her friend.

"Well I'm sorry, I really envy shorties like you — you're always so invisible and ignored by your masters and mistresses. No attraction, no fuss. Quick and hardworking. Seriously, every time I walk into a new room, I get commented on my height. They always eye me weirdly, especially the men. It really starts to get to you, after a while."

But Maid 27 knew what her friend was really referring to — she was just mincing it as nicely as she could. I am ugly. That's why no one looks at me twice. It wasn't just her height (even though one of her wishes was to be tall — next to being free), it was her face and her body. At twelve, she should be starting her stages of maturity, but of course, working so hard in the military seemed to delay the growth. Not only that, but she had naturally strange features — Dull plain brown eyes, a hooked nose and a thin frown for a mouth.

Compared to Maid 83, she was a troll. 83's eyes had always had this bright shine of defiance in them — which wasn't safe or good, but lit up the energy around her like nothing cold ever break her will. She had also developed curves that seemed too old on a young body like hers, but nevertheless attracted unwanted attention from some of the creepier soldiers.