Mechanical

Home > Other > Mechanical > Page 14
Mechanical Page 14

by Pauline C. Harris


  I walked over to a sketch on the wall. The outline was the body of a person and inside, hundreds of little lines were drawn with words describing certain parts or procedures. It was creepy. Was this were I had come from? A sketch like this?

  Just then I heard footsteps approaching and my heart thudded in my chest. I looked around the room frantically for a place to hide but saw nothing. The footsteps were getting louder and closer. My heart was beating so fast I thought I might die. They couldn’t see me. It would ruin everything. Hide me! I silently pleaded.

  Just then I spotted a table at the end of the room that was folded up and leaning against the wall. I ran for it and hoped I would fit. I nudged myself between the wall and the table and held my breath as I heard a door open and footsteps echo throughout the room.

  Once I caught a swift glimpse of him, I saw that he wasn’t Glen, but just another creator. A creator who probably had keys.

  I waited until he had his back toward me. He was sitting at one of the tables, leaning over a piece of paper and scribbling on it. I slowly crawled out from behind the table, praying that I wouldn’t cause it to collapse.

  I crept forward until I was right behind him, holding my breath and standing as still as I could. I lifted my arm and hit him hard on the back of his head. He was out cold immediately. For the first time ever, I was glad that my body was lined with metal.

  I dropped to the ground and started searching his pockets. I let out a breath of relief when I found his keychain, but at least two dozen keys were attached. Great.

  I grabbed it and swiftly left the room. I ran down the hallway to the door that led to the cells. I picked the first key I saw and tried the lock. It didn’t fit. I tried another; the same. I went through at least six keys and none of them worked. I was shaking now, absolutely terrified of getting caught. I was running out of time and I needed to get Jason out of there.

  Finally, I found the right key and the door swung open. Dozens of heads turned in my direction as I entered the hall and I noticed that Jason was not the only one held captive. In almost every cell down the whole corridor was a person. I put my hand on my forehead, a thought entering my mind; a thought I wanted to push away, but knew I couldn’t. Oh no. I couldn’t just get Jason out of here and leave the rest of them.

  I stood there for a moment. I figured the best way to get multiple people out was by the front doors. The back doors would be less noticeable for one person, but I couldn’t hide a dozen people in a broom closet in case someone walked by. I would just have to point them in the right direction and they’d be on their own from there. Could all my efforts be for nothing if this didn’t work? Absolutely.

  “Okay guys,” I called quietly down the hall. Everyone was staring at me, some eyes afraid, some accusatory. “I’m going to get you out. There’s a door at the end of the hallway and then a door leading outside. I want you to run for it as soon as I say so. All of you. But quietly,” I added, now realizing that this was probably a suicide mission for me.

  I walked up to Jason’s cell and unlocked it. “I’m sorry,” I told him but he didn’t reply. I went on, unlocking cell after cell and after a few minutes, everyone had been freed. I ducked my head out into the hallway to make sure no one was coming and then ushered everyone out.

  I did the same at the next door and then turned to them. “This is it. Run to the outside door and don’t stop. For anything. Don’t come back.” I put an emphasis on almost every word. Dozens of frightened eyes looked up at me.

  I pushed the door open and they swarmed out. I ran after them and headed towards the hallway leading to my room. I waited until every one of them had left and then sent up a silent prayer that they would get away and stay away. I leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. I could still hear the swinging of the doors.

  But just then, I felt as though someone were watching me. I straightened, instantly alert. I turned and looked across the lobby to see Yvonne staring straight at me, her dark eyes expressionless. My heart almost stopped. I looked evenly back at her. Would Yvonne turn me in?

  We stared each other down for several seconds. Please don’t Yvonne, please, I silently implored.

  She just looked at me, staring, as though she was calculating her decision. After a while she shrugged, as if she didn’t care, and left the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As far as I could tell, Yvonne hadn’t said anything about what she’d seen. Of course, the creators were furious. They went insane trying to figure out who had done it, looking for possible ways of getting in and out, possible suspects, but found none. Everyone available was tasked with finding out who it had been and how the perpetrator had gotten in.

  But I couldn’t be sure of what Yvonne might do. When we were kids, she never would have told on me. Ever. She had always liked the excitement of keeping secrets. But now Yvonne seemed more interested in what she could get by telling the secrets instead of keeping them. And we weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment.

  Also, I was running out of ideas for the escaping humans. I couldn’t use either one of the ideas I had already used. They would suspect me soon. And I knew they would be keeping a better watch on the cells. The first two times had been hard enough and nerve-racking for me.

  But I couldn’t allow myself to bring in another person.

  And I didn’t want the creators to turn me off.

  I sat down on my bed and buried my head in my hands. Why did I have to make this decision? Why wasn’t I just programmed? I didn’t want to make these kinds of choices, I didn’t want the feelings—the hurt. Why wasn’t I just a robot?

  But then I stopped. I had thought I was. Was a robot supposed to experience these kinds of feelings? Was something wrong with me?

  But wait, Yvonne had a personality, also. Completely different from mine, but still a personality.

  Weren’t we supposed to be perfect? Did perfect include the emotions, choices, conversations and arguments? Did perfect people laugh? Did they cry?

  How could I be perfect if I had irrational emotions and thoughts? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had changed a lot from when the creators first brought me back. I had come back to a world of imperfection, but still a world that seemed far better than my old one.

  Just then, the door opened and Yvonne came striding in. “Glen wants to see you,” she said in an unfriendly voice.

  “Thanks.” I got up, not looking at her, and left the room. I wandered down the corridor until I found the study Glen always seemed to be in, working. I pushed the doors open and found him sitting at his desk going through a large stack of papers.

  Great, another person to bring in. My heart sank a little.

  Glen looked up when I came in. “Hello, Drew.”

  “Yvonne said you wanted to see me.”

  He nodded and beckoned for me to come closer. He reached across the desk and handed me some papers. I reluctantly took them and sulkily looked down at the photo, already trying to formulate a plan. But then my heart nearly stopped, all ideas and thoughts exiting my mind. No. I numbly looked up to see Glen watching me closely, his gray eyes boring into mine.

  “Her name is Jessica Walter.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  His words rang in my ears. I stared blankly at Jessica’s smiling face staring up at me, her eyes twinkling. My mouth was open and I just gaped. No. Why was this happening to me? I couldn’t do this to Jessica. I couldn’t. My mind was empty, numb.

  When I finally looked up, Glen was observing me intently. I shook my head ever so slightly, still completely shocked.

  “I know she’s your ... friend,” Glen said uneasily, his voice stern. “But this is your mission.” He paralyzed me with his gaze and I felt every muscle in my body, every thought in my mind wishing to fight him.

  I could feel tears of sorrow, pity and anger pooling in the corners of my eyes. How could he ask me to do this? How?

  “That’s why we’ve given you a few days to get her
here. Once you think about it, you’ll know that bringing her here is the right choice.” He smiled at me, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was tight and cold, and in that moment, I saw something harsh flash across his face – as if he’d asked me to bring in Jessica because she was my friend. To get rid of her. I felt myself go cold. He waved me towards the door.

  I left. I thought numbly about Jessica. What could I do? I couldn’t not bring her in, because if I refused, I would get turned off. But I couldn’t let her become ... changed. The creators were getting bolder, starting to make us bring in kids who had families. Why? Why were they changing in their method?

  “Drew, what’s the matter?” Jessica asked me, concerned. “You’ve been acting weird all day.” We were at our lockers, putting our books away and grabbing our bags to leave for the day. I realized I hadn’t been very happy, not engaging in conversation or laughing along with her and the others, but how else could I act?

  What was I supposed to tell her? Oh yeah, by the way, I’ve been ordered to deliver you to your death. But don’t worry, you have until Thursday. “I just have a headache,” I told her with an apologetic smile. It seemed to be my excuse for everything.

  “Aw, you should have told me earlier. I have aspirin in my bag.”

  “Oh, it’s fine, I’ll take some when I get home. Oh, wait,” I said, smacking my forehead. “I left my book in history class,” I groaned. “I have to go get it, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved to Jessica and then headed off in the direction of the history classroom, glad for the momentary change of thought. I didn’t want to think about the inevitable any more than I had to. I still didn’t have a plan.

  I made my way past the few students still left roaming the halls and suddenly I heard a familiar voice call my name. I sighed inwardly. Not so much at the voice, but at the butterflies that had just appeared in my stomach. Michael.

  “Drew!” he called.

  I kept walking until I saw the history room and hurried in. I hoped he wouldn’t follow me, but deep down I knew he would.

  Mr. Jeffrey wasn’t there so I went on looking for my book. I heard Michael’s footsteps enter the room behind me as every muscle in my body stiffened. I wanted to run away as fast as I could.

  “Hey,” he called.

  “Hello,” I said shortly, not looking up.

  I heard him let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, what’s going on?” His voice sounded irritated. “Did I do something? ‘Cause if I did, you could at least tell me.”

  I had never heard Michael get angry before, and even now, he seemed more hurt than irritated.

  All of a sudden, I felt guilt gnawing at my insides, mixing with the fear about Jessica and causing me to feel slightly nauseous. For a moment, I could understand why emotions were considered imperfect. Right now, they were just getting in the way.

  I looked over at Michael. Maybe I should have told him. Maybe he deserved to understand. But wait, he had been the one kissing Yvonne. My guilt quickly dissolved. “You should know,” I said quietly, suddenly spotting my book and picking it up. I turned to face him.

  He looked confused and hurt. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

  “Why are you even talking to me?” I asked off handedly, clutching the book to my chest. “You have a girlfriend.”

  Michael looked even more confused. “What?” he asked forcefully.

  “You know what I mean,” I said, walking towards him. “Does the name Yvonne ring any bells?” I couldn’t seem to stem the flow of words and only after they had been spoken did I realize how insanely jealous and childish I sounded.

  Suddenly, recognition dawned in Michael’s face. My heart plummeted.

  “Yeah,” I said and started to walk past him.

  He reached out and gently grabbed my arm. “Drew, wait,” he pleaded.

  I yanked my arm away, but stood there watching him, waiting for an explanation because no matter how mad I was at him, part of me still wanted to hear it from him and not just Jessica. “You kissed her,” I said and I couldn’t help but notice how hurt my voice sounded. I wished I was better at covering it up.

  “She kissed me,” he protested.

  My heart sank a little. I had been hoping that maybe this whole thing had been a misunderstanding. But he had just admitted to it. “Yeah, big difference,” I retorted, ready to walk out again. My heart was pounding, but from anger or nerves I couldn’t tell.

  “She saw me walking one day and followed me. I don’t remember where I was going, the store probably. Dad had the car ...” He was talking quickly, his words tumbling together. “I didn’t like her even from the start. Her attitude and the way she talked seemed so snobbish. It was actually kind of creepy, you know. Guys don’t like girls who throw themselves at you. At least I don’t.” He wrinkled his nose, something that would have been comical in any other situation. “She said she recognized me. I didn’t want to be rude and tell her to go away so I just walked along and kind of nodded to things she said, not really listening. And then all of a sudden...” He shrugged. “She kissed me.” The look on his face was stricken with guilt. “I backed away and told her to leave. That’s all that happened. I swear, it was the weirdest thing in the world. I had no idea who she was.”

  I stared at him, thinking about what he had said, longing to believe him. Yvonne had kissed him? But he hadn’t liked it? He hadn’t liked Yvonne? How was that possible? She was long-legged, thin, mysterious gorgeousness. She was the epitome of android beauty and Michael hadn’t liked her?

  But it was totally like Yvonne to not tell me the whole truth. She would never admit that a guy had actually turned her down. The thought of that possibility had never even crossed her mind.

  “I’m sorry, Drew,” Michael said. “Really.” His shoulders drooped. “I like you. And I’m sorry that this whole ... thing ... got in the way of everything.”

  He looked completely dejected. And I felt awful. I should have let him explain it himself. I had been stupid. Why hadn’t I listened to his side instead of just taking the details from everyone else?

  I guess that’s just what humans do. The thought crossed my mind and I couldn’t hide the tiny smile that appeared on my lips because of it. “I’m sorry, too,” I said quietly and for a second I wasn’t sure if he had even heard me. “I should’ve listened to you,” I admitted.

  Just then I noticed Michael looking at me, directly at me, studying my face and my eyes. I looked up at him and then, just like that, he leaned over and kissed me.

  I was too shocked to do anything. My arms tingled, my whole body tingled and the butterflies in my stomach went berserk.

  I had never been kissed before. Ever.

  It was an odd sensation, his lips against mine, but I eventually closed my eyes, leaned into it and wondered, briefly, if this was what being human was really like.

  Yvonne had once told me it was fun to kiss guys, but I hadn’t really understood what she was saying. After all, I had had nothing to compare it to. I could only suppose.

  But at that moment, when I asked myself if what Yvonne had said was true, I had to admit that she was right.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Michael's kiss was absolutely amazing.

  I wished it could last forever, but it was cut short when the door burst open and I saw standing there not a teacher, like I had suspected, but one of the creators from the Institution.

  I quickly stepped back from Michael, startled, and looked quizzically at the creator. Panic washed over me, engulfing any irritation I would have had towards anybody else.

  “It was you.” His voice was dripping with rage. His eyes glimmered with vengeful hate. My heart went from the racing caused by the kiss to a dead halt. Oh no. They had found out. “You were the one helping them escape!” he snarled.

  I took a step backward, and Michael stepped in front of me. “Who are you?” he demanded, although I could detect a hint of uneasiness in his voice.

  The creator paid him no attention
but just started walking towards me, his anger boiling up and washing over me like waves. I desperately looked around and spotted a door at the end of the room that adjoined into the other classroom. I instantly bolted towards it, grabbing Michael’s arm and pulling him with me. “Drew, wha...?” he stammered, but there wasn’t time for an explanation.

  We ran into the other room and dashed for the exit to the hallway. Once in the corridor I saw three other creators start to run towards us, their expressions matching the first creator’s perfectly. I panicked, noticing that the first creator had run into the other classroom and had made a beeline towards me. Michael and I started to run the other way down the hallway but once we rounded the corner, I noticed more creators. Why did they all have to come? I darted to the door of one of the classrooms when all of a sudden I felt someone grab the back of my shirt.

  “Michael!” I heard someone scream and I looked over to see Jessica being held roughly by one of the creators. Michael froze between Jessica and I, knowing that if he made a move they would seize him, as well. His gaze darted back and forth between both of us, his expression one of complete disbelief and fear.

  “She’s due to be brought in,” one of the creators commented, gesturing to Jessica. She struggled to try to get out of his grasp but he pulled her arms tightly behind her, making her wince until she stopped.

  “No!” I cried. “You need to let her go,” I said firmly, although I knew deep down that no one would take me seriously.

  The creator shook his head and laughed mockingly at me. “And while we’re at it, take him as well. As for you, young lady,” the creator glared at me, “shut-off time.”

  My heart beat furiously against its metal cage. No. I had thought that possibly we would be able to work this out rationally, but I could see that wasn’t going to happen. I knew that I stood a chance, a good chance, at getting free from one of them, but all? I couldn’t be sure. The only thing I was sure of was that they made me too well. Too well for their own good, that is.

 

‹ Prev