The voice broke off with a sharp beep as the room plunged into darkness. Kyra sucked in a sharp breath, trying to take a deep gulp in, but all of a sudden there was a lump in her throat. Darkness was in the top three of her worst fears. It seemed she would be facing more than one fear today though, and in light of that, she crouched down and began to feel her way towards a wall - it was better than walking, as the last thing she wanted to do was smack into a column.
Breathe, she told herself. It was hard. The air was thick and warm.
The rough, sticky floor cut at her palms and the fabric covering her knees as she began to move. Had the floor been so wet before? Surely not. It had been smooth and pale, but now it felt like gravel, stabbing her skin everywhere it could reach. That was when she realised that her normal clothing was gone. In its place was some sort of jumpsuit. Her hand landed in a puddle of warm, thick liquid, which smelled metallic and strangely familiar, but she didn't dare stop until her hands found a wall.
Breathe, she told herself.
Kyra stood and rubbed her hands across the wall, searching for a light switch. The rough surface changed to a smooth one as she moved to the side. Glass? she wondered. That wasn't the room she remembered. She frowned, thinking of another possibility. One of the values of Arabel was ingenuity – perhaps instead of expecting the test to provide for her, she had to help herself. Holding her breath, Kyra raised her hands in front of her and clapped. That simple gesture brought Kyra's whole world to life - literally. The lights flickered on, a thousand times brighter than before, though she wished they weren't. Gruesome, bloody, sanguine, shocking; they were all words that came to mind as she took in the scene before her.
She was in the same room but it was... different. Twisted. The floor was covered in a layer of crimson so thick she couldn't tell what it was made of. Blood. Vomit. Puss. Urine. Perhaps all of the above; she didn't care to find out. Navy rock replaced the stark marble surfaces. Three boxes were built into each wall and were barely large enough to fit a single, standing person. Rusted chains hung from the ceiling in each structure and dangled down into the shadows. A gold plaque stood on a raised platform in the centre of the space. Frowning, she stepped closer to read: Arabel prison, est. 2050.
Kyra stumbled backwards, her boot catching on the uneven floor and sending her spiralling. It took everything she had to convince herself what she was seeing wasn't real, that this was just the thought simulator playing a trick on her, that this was all just a joke. Looking back, she saw the objects she'd retrieved earlier had appeared on top of the platform.
Kyra stopped in front of the boxes. It was not until then, when she stepped close enough to see into the shadows, that she realised what they contained. Bodies. They hung like puppets from the ceiling, limbs awkward and bent as they slumped against the wall, never able to sit or fully stand. Whether they were alive or dead, she wasn't sure, but the face she saw in the first box sent her running forward.
"Dad!" In her haste Kyra tripped, arms extended to embrace him - but she couldn't. Between them was a thin sheet of glass, separating Kyra from her father. She dropped to her knees in front of him. He was slumped against the wall, standing only because of the chains holding his arms up. He had the same square glasses as her father, same neatly parted dark hair, same long black eyelashes that Kyra had inherited, but there was something different about him, and she knew it. There was something wrong. "Dad! Dad, look at me!"
Kyra beat her fists against the glass between them, but a part of her knew it was pointless; he was nothing more than a corpse, a ghost of the man she once idolised, the man she loved more than anything.
A tear dripped down her cheek. It was warm against her icy skin; it fell onto her parted lips, and only when she tasted the saltiness of it did she wipe the others away. She placed her hand against the glass, as though to touch her father, but the blood on her fingers made it slip. That's when she noticed it. Inlaid in the rock was a dark red button. Kyra had no idea what it did, or what she was going to do next, but the sight of her father made nothing else matter.
Kyra reached forward and pushed the button.
Harsh blue light reflected against the cell glass. She whipped around. A familiar substance that was neither solid, gas or liquid flowed out of the pedestal in the centre of the room. The hologram was similar to those used city wide in coffee shops and clothing stores, even at home. And yet she'd never seen one like that. It looked like a memory.
Kyra's father was standing in a room. Each wall was covered in screens that focused on a different part of the city: the square, the school, the train, even houses. The screens flickered in time with the overhead lights, but Hunter Jackson took no notice. His brows were furrowed, his parted lips taking in shallow breaths, his hands splattered with something crimson. His fingers stroked a big black button, almost lovingly it seemed. There was a sadistic smile on his lips, his eyes sparkling with something she couldn't explain. Madness? Pleasure? Longing? Whatever it was, it terrified her to no end. Grinning, he slammed his hand against the button.
"Prisoner one." Despite the familiar, robotic voice, Kyra scrambled backwards, one hand reaching for the gun on the platform. "Hunter Jackson was sentenced to thirty years of labour after opening the city gates and letting out one thousand citizens, all of whom perished upon departing."
Her hand dropped. Could he - no, would he have done that? Surely not. He was the Head Enforcer. He had two kids and a wife waiting for him at home. Even if he wanted to, the odds were not in his favour. The power to open the gates rested solely with the city council and the Head Controller, and even if he did have permission to use it, why would he want to? No one knew for sure what was past the fences; ashes, death and destruction were among the most common assumptions. Somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice whispered to her: he was an elite Enforcer - maybe, just maybe, he knew something she didn't.
Kyra's mind was set. It couldn't have happened, it couldn't be real. No matter how convincing the video was, this was just a test, a mind-trick designed to make her decision hard - whatever that decision may be.
She walked over to the next box. President Tyrell lay slumped against the wall, a sheen of sweat on his forehead that made trails in the dirt coating his face. She rubbed her temple. She didn't know the president, but she respected him. No one deserved to live like that. It was like someone was taking all of her knowledge away from her and teaching her new things that not only made no sense, but were completely and utterly wrong. She pressed the button next to his cell and another hologram appeared, but instead of her father she saw the president. There was no video. Just an image of his face.
"Prisoner two. President Dawn Tyrell was sentenced wrongly for a crime he did not commit."
Kyra moved over to the next body, and for a moment felt a rush of relief - she didn't recognise the citizen. But then a light flickered on overhead, and she saw what the darkness had concealed. She fell forward and caught herself against the glass as a cry ripped through her chest, one so inhuman she didn't know if it was even hers. But it was. Because it was him. There he was, hanging hunched over in the air, signature smile set on his lips even in death. His thick blonde hair was plastered to his forehead, no longer crazy and soft like him. His eyes were closed, but Kyra wished they were open so she knew he was still alive, still breathing, still James.
"Prisoner three. James Henderson was sentenced to five years of labour after trying to escape from Arabel." Kyra repeated the previous process, only now it was hard to watch. Tears blurred her vision as she watched James, the boy she knew inside and out, run for his life. A gun, not so different from the one behind her, was clasped in James' grip, and he fired off rounds at any sign of movement. Very few found their targets. James was fast, something Kyra knew from years of track, but the Enforcers were quickly closing in on him. He fired one last shot at an Enforcer, who dropped to the ground, before he was finally taken down, a mere metre from the fence, as the screen went black.
"Two people in this room have been wrongly accused of crimes. You are one of them. Only two people can leave this room. You have two bullets. Good luck, Citizen."
— author's note —
Hey guys! What did you think of this chapter? What do you think will happen in the next one?
As always, thank you so much for reading! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed this. x
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Citizen
Science Fiction- The Command Series (book 1) - In a society where everything is controlled, there is no room for deviance. Each morning, the citizens of Arabel put on bracelets that send commands to their brains and give them electric shocks if they fail to obey...
