by Aaron Denius
A loud clang wakes me from my slumber. I sit up and look toward the elevator. I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but I still feel groggy. The elevator doors open, and two drones drag a body into the cell across from mine. They dump it on the ground as if it were trash. There is no compassion. They just do what they are ordered to do. I see now why they call us drones. The pair don't even look at me as they head back to the elevator.
Once they are gone, I shift closer to the front of my cell. I get a better look at the mound of flesh and bones on the ground before me.
“Are you okay?” I break the silence.
The mound moves but does not respond. After a few moments, I lie back down on my mat and fall back to sleep.
The darkness is interrupted by flashes of white and color. The last flash wakes me up. I look around for the colors' source, but everything seems to be as it was when I lay down. It's dark and cold, and the body still lies in the middle of the cell across from me.
A whimper from the body draws my attention. I lean closer and can tell that the person is crying. My muscles clench at each whimper. I want to ease them of their pain.
“Are you okay?” I try again.
“I want to go home,” a muffled voice answers back.
“Where is home?” I pry.
The body sits up, and I finally get a good look at my neighbor. It's a girl, which I didn't expect. Her clothes are dirty and tattered. She's not from the compound. Her short, dark hair hangs in front of her face. Though caked in dirt, blood, and tears, her face screams innocence. I can't imagine her doing anything or hurting anyone to put her in a place like this. She is here because she is an outsider, and in the eyes of those who run this compound, that is a crime. It sickens me. What gave the scientists divine control?
“You're one of them.” The girl's words snap me out of my head. I must have been staring.
“One of who?” I ask.
“Those clones. The ones that captured me and brought me down here,” she replies. Her eyes study me hard.
“Yeah. Well, I used to be.” I don't feel like one anymore.
She moves to the front of her cell. Her face winces at the pain. “What do you mean you used to be? Why are you down here?”
“I was shot in the eye, so I can't do my job anymore.” I run my hand over my eye patch. It's funny how now that I see things with a new perspective, I only have one eye to do it with. “They were supposed to kill me as they do with every other useless drone, but Atom saved me.”
“Azazel!” she shouts. It startles me.
“What?” I retort.
“He's the devil! He's the reason we are all going to die!” The disdain in her face is physical, and the anger behind it makes my skin shiver.
“No. He's—please don't. He doesn't even know.” I stumble over my words.
Her anger recedes, and the pain returns. Her eyes spew out tears. “I just want to go home. I want to see my family.”
I sit back on my mat, unsure of what to say. Is there a way I can help her get back to her family? I can't imagine what she must be feeling. Before meeting Atom, I wouldn't even know how to define family. The other drones are not family. Work as one, care for none. That's how we are programmed. It's a sad existence. Atom helped me realize that there is more out there. More people, more experiences, more perspectives. He feels more like family than any of the drones ever have.
The girl's crying has stopped, and I can tell by the rhythm of her breaths that she's asleep. I lie back down on my mat and close my eyes. All I want to do down here is sleep. They must be pumping some kind of gas in here. It makes sense—if you are sleeping all the time, you can't cause any problems. The blackness comes hard.
I wake up, but the silence and the little light make me feel as though I'm still in the grasp of sleep. Propping myself up onto my elbows, I look over to the girl's cell. She's gone. My body betrays my mind, and I don't move as fast as I would like to the front of my cell. When I get there, the sound of the elevator doors opening pulls my attention. Two drones drag the girl by her arms.
“What did you do to her?” I yell in anger. Her body hangs lifeless. Whatever they are doing will kill her, if she's not already dead.
“Answer me!” I scream louder. The drones drop her body off in her cell and walk back to the elevator. My eyes search her body for signs of life.
“Traitor,” one of the drones shouts. When I look over, they are gone. Is that what they think of me now? That I'm a traitor? All because Dr. Anfang spared me. Because I was not allowed to die.
I don't care what they call me. I'm not one of them anymore. I'm not a drone who aimlessly follows orders with no purpose or sense of what life is and can be. Those hours with Atom outside of the compound's walls when we ran to the pyramid, heard the music, and tasted the chicken; they awoke me to what was outside the boundaries of my mind. My brain and thoughts were trapped in a darkened cell. Much as I am right now. In need of the light.
“What's your name?” Her soft voice crackles through the silence, pulling me out of my trance.
I get as close as my cell allows me. The girl's body lies on the ground, more beaten than when I last saw her. The little light that this dungeon has reflects off her eyes, and I can tell she is looking right at me. “80. What's yours?”
“Anna,” she sighs out. Her breathing has grown deep and long. “Do you think we will ever get out of here?”
The despair in her voice forces a pain in my chest. I don't know the answer to her question, so I lie. “Yes, and soon. You'll be able to see your family again. Tell me about them.”
She sniffles and speaks through her tears. “It's me, my sister, my mother, and my grandmother.”
“All women?” I ask.
“My father and brother were killed,” she answers with the pain of their loss still in her heart.
“How? By who?” I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.
“You all.” There is intense hatred in her voice.
My heart begins to share her hatred. It cries out for her. “I'm so sorry.”
“I just want to go home. My mother needs me. I have to help take care of my grandmother.” It amazes me how selfless her thoughts are when she is the one in need of help.
“I promise I will get you out of here.” I try to convince myself that I'm telling the truth.
She doesn't respond. My eyelids are feeling heavy again. I lie down on the ground at the edge of my cell and look at Anna. Her eyes are open, and they meet mine. She smiles, and I smile back. Her expression shows hope of leaving this dungeon, but her eyes know that it might not happen.
Our gazes stay locked on one another's. I fight hard to keep my eyes open, but the darkness of sleep wins again.
A light shines bright at the opposite end of the dungeon. I sit up, and the door to my cell is open. I look for the girl, but she is not there. Before I can look around more, I hear a faint chanting originating from the light. It’s my name: “80. 80.”
I run straight for the light. Faster and faster. I shield my eyes as my body crashes through the threshold of dark and light. When my eyes focus, I see my feet right on top of a ledge. Below me are thousands of drones, all looking up at me, chanting my name. Before I can make sense of the crowd below me, my feet slip, and I fall.
My eyes shoot open, and I flail my arms to stop myself from plummeting. The screams coming from my mouth jar me awake, and as I look around, I see that I am sitting in my cell. Right where I was before. What just happened? Where is the light? Was that real? I check my surroundings once more to confirm that I am still in my cell. Maybe Anna can explain what happened.
I walk to the edge of my cell, but like the last time I fell asleep, she is gone. I sit on the ground and wait. There isn't anything else for me to do, and I'm afraid that I will start to fall again if I close my eyes. The unwavering darkness and my ever-tiring brain make it hard to tell the difference between hours and minutes.
A sharp pain in my stomach makes me realize t
hat I have not eaten since they brought me down here. I grab a couple of protein pouches and return to the same spot to wait for Anna and fight off sleep. The protein pouches cool my throat as I devour one right after the other. I must have eaten them too fast, because the energy in my body seems to have raced to my stomach to help digest it. I lie down and keep my gaze in the direction of the elevators.
I'm not going to be able to fight off the darkness; it's too strong. But I also don't want to fall again. There is nothing in my cell to hold me down, so I wrap my arms around a couple of the bars and hold on tight. After testing my grip a few times, I feel secure enough to let myself fall asleep.
When I wake up, I see Grant standing over me. He pulls me to my feet. “Let's go!”
“What?” I'm out of sorts. I can't tell if this is real. My eyes dart around as Grant pushes me to the elevator. Anna's cell is still empty. “Where is the girl?”
There is no response from Grant. He pushes me toward the end of the dungeon. Reflexes get my legs in motion, because I am not moving them willingly. I look at him. “What did you do with her? Where is she?”
“Who?” Grant replies as we enter the elevator. I can see a slight hint of light peeking through the crack above my head.
“Anna!” I demand.
“She's dead,” he states, emotionless.
My heart drops, and my legs follow. The metal hits hard against my knees as I catch one last glimpse of what used to be Anna's cell. The doors shut. Tears roll down my cheeks. She should be home with her family. She didn't deserve this. No one does!
A pinch in my neck sends tingles through my body, and I fall to the ground.
“You'll be fine.” Grant kneels next to me. He's blurry, but I can tell that he’s holding a needle in his hand. With his other hand, he closes my eyes.
* * *
[A1]For consistency, editing all ellipses to the same format (no space before, spaces between, space after except for when followed by other punctuation.
[A2]Contractions are used pretty inconsistently in their dialogue, which creates an awkward and sometimes stilted sound. At first I thought it might be intentional that they weren’t being used, but now they ARE used enough that it just comes off as inconsistent. I’m leaving them as is in most cases, but in some where it feels particularly stilted/unnatural to not have the contraction, for example right here (especially when it’s right after another one), I’m replacing them. Wanted to leave a comment since I figured the reasoning may not be clear if you’re looking through.
[A3]Bigger line edit so not doing directly, but I’d cut “from the moon…”—the mind already did that in the previous sentence. Leaving it at just “drifts” would read smoother by my eye.
[A4]Cut or replace one of the two “probably”s.
[A5]Phrased as intended? Meaning not quite clear.