Programmed: Raine's Story

.01

Our mornings were filled with giggles as we picked through the rubbish that came ashore with the hope of finding hidden gems and treasures. Some days, we'd come across brightly colored seashells that must've come from the islands. It's said that the beaches there are full of color. I'd feel that each brightly colored shell represented some sort of special luck, but Evan would look down at me and remind me that they represented everything but luck. I'd entertain my brother's thoughts, but I'd secretly store these shells in my dress pockets till they were none but dust. We'd sometimes find full sand dollars, which were boring among the other various finds, but no complaints. We'd trade them in for stale bread from the only bakery in town. Other days though, we'd come across trinkets that surely had stories of their own in secret. We'd hold on to those ones, especially the ones that didn't carry rust or those which were bent. Our backpack rattled as we roamed the streets as if the hidden treasures were trying to tell us their stories. 

If we weren't at the sea, we'd be posted at the market, looking over the counter at the brightly colored fruits and vegetables. We'd study these colors until one of the merchants would inevitably shoo us away. To them, we were nothing but dirty vermin with thoughts carried by only but thieves. I'd stick my tongue out as Evan pulled my shirt away from them. These fruits and vegetables contrasted the dirty life we lived in. They'd look magical compared to the brown and yellow tones of the world around us. The division of the world we exist in is nothing but bleak and bare. No bright blue skies and seas, no green vines and wild flowers, and no breadth of unclouded space.

"They're artificial," he'd whisper to me as I looked in awe, "like everything else in this world. It's all fake."

I'd turn to him with a glare, frustrated at him for ruining the beauty that the fruits and vegetables gave. He'd carry cynical thoughts, always finding a way to tear my naive perspective down. Then my lips would twitch into a smile and I'd agree with him in a laugh and we'd be headed back to the orphanage.

They called it an orphanage, but it was known that it was really just a shelter put on by the government for homeless children. The caregivers were given minimums for their handlings by the government, but it was clear that they'd take any opportunity to rid the children that fed off of their portions. Evan always would tell me his dreams of having our own home where we didn't feel like burdens. A dream that could have saved us. I had just turned eleven and he was fourteen, so we were welcomed at such a place as the orphanage. Up until you're sixteen, you're welcomed at such a place. He and I would scramble in the dusted doors right before the warning bell rang. Every night we did this and every night we were greeted with scolding eyes and a lecture.

"You have one rule, Mr. Evan and Ms. Raine, back before ten o'clock or you can't come in. And you two both knows what happens when you can't come in," Mrs. Fish's thick pink hair bundled high atop her head, strays flying as she shook her head at us, "surely that's what happened to your parents." She would smile a malicious smile and would proceed to carry herself up the staircase, creaks of old wood following each footstep.

It was exactly two weeks after that day when Evan and I had the door slammed to our faces as we reached the steps of the orphanage two minutes past ten o'clock bell. While I did doubt that they would actually hand us our death notes by slamming the door, I was surprised that they had. Two less mouths to feed. I remember that night vividly. The moon was full, thank goodness, so we were able to see more clearly in the night. Evan and I looked at each other, doe-eyed, as we stood on the stair steps of the orphanage.

"Now what?" I had asked him, my voice quaking with fear and anticipation. He looked at me, a look in his eyes that scared me. He didn't say anything, but tugged my shirt and began to run.

That's what we did for the first part of the night. We ran. We started hearing the alarms after all of the houses had darkened and drawn empty to the eye. Our ears echoed the rings of the alarms as they rang from the drones which flew high above us. The shadows on the walls danced as we ran by. Evan kept looking back at me, assuring himself that I was still there. He'd place a finger on his lips as he suddenly stopped and pulled me along side a damp bricked wall.

Quiet.

And as he dropped his finger from his lips, we heard them. The buzzing of electricity sizzling in and throughout the bot. It's yellow lights burned in the night's dead air, haunting us from yards away. Evan pushed me back against the wall. An attempt to keep me hidden and safe. He was the barrier between me and my uncertain fate. Slowly, though, the miserable bot inched closer to us. It's lights turning to a dark orange and then to a deep red. It sensed life.

And it's job was to terminate life.

Evan sensed the danger, his arm pushed me harder into the wall. The fear echoing in my head screamed. I gripped my hand around the end of Evan's shirt, unwilling to ever let go. And just like that... he ripped away from my grasp, running in the opposite direction yelling to me that he loves me. Just like his plan intended, the bot turned towards him and left me in the darkness.

Alone.

I hunched over, knees to my chest, quietly humming tunes of childhood songs. Tears kissed my cheeks as they continuously slipped down my sunken face. The night suddenly felt cooler. The air turned silent, no sign of the bot and no sign of Evan.

No sign of Evan.

The thought pierced my heart, dagger sharp and deep. The feeling felt frantic, as if my world was glass that had just shattered; pieces flying out of reach, cutting anything and everything in it's path. I kept in place, hiding perfectly between the damp wall and a stack of unused stones. As I dosed off, I wondered if another bot would come terminate me. Would I even care? Eventually I had fallen asleep, my dreams carrying nothing but darkness.

The morning's light woke me. The sun, sending kisses down on me, blinding me as I saw it creep from the horizon. An elderly man's boots made view from my huddled spot. His whistle carried softly in the air.

"Ex-excuse me mister," my voice was unexpected. He stepped back and hunched down to my level. His eyes full to the brim with wonder.

"Have you been here all night, little one?" His voice rang with curiosity and surprise. I nodded to him, tears filling my eyes. He offered a smile, a smile I felt as if I could trust.

I remember that moment vividly. I remember his gentle eyes and the soft touch of his hand as he helped me up. He introduced himself to me as Isaac and proceeded to hold my hand and tuck the stray hairs behind my ear. He took me home and cared for me, like his own. His wife had recently passed and he had always told me how he felt as if her spirit sent me to him.

"A little miracle, you are," his smile spoke as his words did, full of care and love.

I lived with Isaac for seven years, each day waiting patiently for something new. And on my eighteenth birthday, that day that I had been waiting for so eagerly had arrived. It was the day that I was taken. Kidnapped, you could say. That was the day I was pulled from my home and sent to a place I had only read about.

That's the day it all changed.

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