Finishing up her work, her hand breaks free from the pressure and momentarily slides to mine. “If you ever need anything, you know I’m here for you.”
“She should have told me. I could’ve talked her out of it. Now, Kalli could be trapped in some virtual prison and I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe she wanted to surprise you, knowing you’d try talking her out of it.”
“She should have told me.”
“I’m sorry again. I’ll be back in a little while. I need to make my rounds.”
The door closed before I decided to respond.
After a few hours of much-needed silence, the door creaks open. I’m too scared to admit there’s no way to be certain what I
just heard is real. Reality and my imagination seem to have united against me.
Despite my doubts, I glance over as my eyes greet two tall figures making their way through my door. I don’t remember inviting them in.
Every muscle in my body tightens as the first guest reveals himself from the room’s shadow. He steps towards me, still getting comfortable under my fresh linens. His black suit is clean and pressed. Larger than the average man. He moves in a mechanical
way, almost robotic. With arms that bulge through his jacket, he looks as if he could tear someone in two with ease. His hair is black or maybe just a really dark brown. It’s hard to tell in the dying fluorescents. It’s slicked to the back of his head. He walks in with a sense of authority while the clicking of his heels on the tile stab at my ears.
A security officer proudly follows close behind, Suit-wannabe. This one has a sternness that sits upon his shoulders hoisted only by his inflated ego and his false sense of accomplishment. He nods at me and introduces himself as Officer Swine. His very existence makes me cringe.
“We need to ask you some questions about the events that took place last night,” he says as he wraps his pudgy hands around the chrome rail attached to my bed. His fingers fidget impatiently around the metal. He leans in closer, towering over me attempting to intimidate. He fails.
“I’m not sure I’ll be much help, gentlemen,” my voice cracks, “I’ve been a little out of it lately. Almost time to be reborn.” The irony in my voice purposely noticeable. My eyes still following the pacing Suit staring at the bruising around my neck.
Images of the mysterious intruder flash to the front of my mind, and I find myself questioning if it was real or delusion. Either way, I refuse to help the Lethe Corporation do anything.
“One of the night shift nurses on the floor reported he witnessed you in the hallway at the time of the break-in,” chimes th Suit. He slowly walks to the other side of the bed, never breaking eye contact with me. His accusing tone hits a nerve.
Jaw clenched, I bite my tongue and feel the heat from within me flush into my cheeks. “I- I don’t remember anything.”
He walks over to an empty chair in the corner, sheds his jacket, and places it with care on the chair between him and the wall.
I freeze at the sight of his arm.
It’s completely metal. From shoulders to fingertips. I’ve heard rumors but haven’t seen any upgrades in person before. The light reflects off his arm like the sun’s rays reflect off the apartment’s rooftop just before sunset. Its layered metal-mesh texture allows him flexibility with all the strength of hardened steel. It appears to be his only upgrade other than the likely neuralNet stuff, standard issue for all Suits and the network port everyone from Olympia has embedded in their arm. Judging by his demeanor he’s more machine than man.
He walks back over to the bed slowly shaking his head in disappointment. Leans in, gripping the rail opposite of Swine with his metal arm, putting his weight against it. The rail folds with ease.
I flinch at the sound. The smell of arrogance and oil becomes noticeable. The mechanical noise of the hydraulics in his arm picks at my sanity when he flexes it. Every attempt to pull my eyes from it fails.
“You sure ‘bout that?” he asks, slowly leaning closer towards me. Emotionless. He knows I’m lying. His eyes fail to hide his distrust.
“Yep,” I smugly reply swallowing my nerves. After all, I don’t remember what’s real or what’s not.
“How many of them were there?
“How many of who?”
“Can you describe any of the raiders?”
“Again, what raiders?” I reply.
He’s getting frustrated. Pushing himself off the bent railing, he crosses his giant arms over me. I expect the worst.
The officer on my left scoffs and walks towards my closed door. They pause in unison, each one waiting for the other to strike first. The officer guarding the door places his hand on the blaster dangling from his hip.
A long deadly silence sweeps through the room before the corporate cyborg turns around, reaches for his suit jacket. He drapes it around his arm and steps towards his partner. Like he planned to, he turns to me, stopping just shy of the door, adjusts his tie, and says, “Wrong answer.”
His words send a chill down my spine as he disappears into the hall as quickly as he manifested. Officer Swine widens the open door with a crooked smile.
The distinct sound of boots striking the tile hits me like a drug. A cocktail of fight-or-flight shoots through me at light speed.
My feet find the floor as my imagination envisions torture, both real and virtual, along with other unfavorable outcomes. Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.
The surroundings become vivid. Focus narrows. Only one exit. The window is reinforced glass, no way I’m getting through that. A fight it is.
“You really should have complied with the investigation,” snorts Officer Swine. “Might’ve worked something out. Not sure if you forgot,
