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

Chapter 12

My eyes scanned over my latest endeavour, the scratchy sketch of a girl, her back turned, a small figure in the distance, running up to meet the horizon of where the green fields met with the sky. The sky would have been blue — but not just any blue. It would've been a deep, pure, cerulean blue. Blue like the oceans and blue like the flowers. It was hard to compare the sky to anything else though, but if I had any colour that was what I would've coloured it. A beautiful, beautiful blue. The grass, too. It would've been green beyond imagination. A vividness that couldn't compare, only being able to come in close to being compared to other vegetation.

Then the little girl in the plain checkered shirt would stand, so small against the world. It was a horribly bad comparison to how big the earth really was. When I thought into it, deeply, I realised that I wasn't much compared to the earth. In fact, I would've been no more than a speck against the entire planet. My life was so small, so unworthy compared to everything. A tiny, microscopic light.

But... it was still a light.

"Mistress... oh." I glanced up, only to find Maid 27 looking down at me, holding a tray full of food, her large brown eyes darting over my picture, yet obviously taking everything in to full detail. She seemed to be amazed at what I was drawing, which was strange, considering the fact that I personally felt no pride in how they looked. Also, I was honestly taken aback at the fact that she hadn't noticed or even cared enough to take a peek at even one of my drawings. According to some mental calculations, I had roughly been drawing for five days, two times a day, which meant that id drawn at least ten pictures — no — twelve, with three that had been so bad I had crossed them out.

I snapped the book shut, wedging the pencil in between the pages. Setting it to the side and trying my best to ignore her incredulous look, I took the tray from her hands, gently, with a thank you on my lips. Letting my gaze stray, I wandered over my food, taking in the bread, soup and the small salad tucked into a tiny bowl at the side. Not fancy, but not bad either. The soup was warm and well spiced, as with the salad — there was some sort of sweet and sour dressing, and the vegetables were quite fresh, but the one thing I noticed that was different was the small note tucked underneath the salad bowl.

As I picked up a spoon, I gave a quick nod at Maid 27, which was my sign of dismissal. She nodded at my gesture and retreated out the door, which was not unusual behaviour.

But instead of diving straight into the food (unfortunately, due to my training sessions and perhaps my modifications, I was starting to gain a high metabolism), I held myself back and slid out the note, placing the tray onto the desk beside me (I was sitting at the foot of my bed, which was only an arm's reach out to the desk that I never used, not like as if there was a chair anyway).

Unfolding the note, I smoothed out the wrinkles and opened out to a piece of paper which looked to be roughly torn out of a book. It was no bigger than my hand, which was probably why I struggled to read it, as the letters were even smaller.

But when I managed to decipher it, my stomach flipped in unwanted anticipation. My first task was here. I would finally be able to prove myself.

Target: Heather Mills, Maid 46, aged 15.
Distinctive features include: Brown hair, pale features, blue eyes.

Serving Faction: Cook, kitchen worker — Colour Orange.

Method of Release: Preferably by asphyxiation, or by a shorter blade.

Time: 2300 (11 o'clock) during her late returns.

Please dispose of this note after use.