Programmed: Raine's Story

.06

I try to take deep breathes as I'm escorted back to the room that is so apparently mine. My mind is quiet and yet it races like a horse. There's an itch in my head that I can't seem to satisfy. The walk down the halls is quiet. The men on guard still stare blankly at the walls directly ahead of them. I feel the eggplant colored fabric follow behind me. I hope a Nicholas, who is insuring my safety back to the room, doesn't accidentally trample over my dress. Unlikely, I'm confident. Mirrors spot the halls and I am greeted by my saddened eyes as I swiftly walk past. What have you gotten yourself into?

"What do they call you, even?" Nicholas asks me quietly as I enter the sun lit room of mine, "you haven't said. Neither has Mr. Heartland." I smile softly for a moment before I answer. I find myself relieved that I still have my name to myself.

"Raine," I hush back to him almost as if I'm spilling a secret, "my name is Raine."

Nicholas nods his head, satisfied with my willingness to respond, and begins down the hall we came from. I close the door gently as I watch him turn a corner in the distance. I feel the knob click as it reaches the doorframe. Great, I'm locked in.

The tall windows along the walls are clear and bright. I look out and am welcomed by the soft blue tones of the ocean. The ocean seems to be the only familiarity around me. I smile at it, hoping that it senses me as I sense it. There are dozens of trees lined in perfect rows. They carry the same colors of the artificial fruits did back home. I think of Evan for a moment and am filled with a hopeless hope. The trees, though, hold leaves that seem to be dancing against the mellowed breezes. I wonder if I'll ever be able to experience the touch of one of those leaves. My face falls dim as I realize I probably will not.

My attention draws to the door which is creaking open ever so gently. I draw my head from the window and am greeted with the face of the blonde girl who had been helping me earlier.

"Your dress, miss," she's holding onto the pink dress that I've been instructed to wear, "can I help you with it?"

I nod my head and walk towards her. She helps me pull the dark silk from my shoulders and away from my body. I release the sharpened breath that lingered for a moment too long. This girl's presence was comforting.

"What's your name," I quietly say to her as she's finishing lacing up the back of the pink dress. I can almost feel her smile on my neck.

"Eleanor," she sings, "but I don't think I'm supposed to know that."

I whip my head around to face her. Her mouth is parted open and her eyes are wide and confused.

"Miss?" Her voice is rattled with uncertainty.

"You don't think you're supposed to know your own name? What do you mean by that?" I gently grab her hand, trying to show her that I'm sincere and trustworthy. She looks down at our fumbled fingers.

"There are some things I know," she looks back up at me, her eyes glossed with layers of programmed technology, "I know the halls of this manor. I know I must smile when spoken to. I know that I sleep in the quarters with the other female staff." She pauses, a hint of lostness forming in her being, "but we don't have names we go by. I'm not certain that Eleanor is a name I can claim, but it is the most familiar to me." She smiles, confident with her response.

"And the other two girls?" I feel her fingers continue to lace my back. I see the glistens of the reflections of my new pink dress dancing on the pale walls and ceiling almost as it they're telling me a story with their movement.

"I'm not sure. We don't communicate much. At least not on a personal level."

My mind wonders how these programmed minds work. Surely she is remembering who she was before she became this. Eleanor, what a pretty name.