Machine God: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Final Draft)

Interrogation

The soldiers thrusted me to the gate, which turned out to be a sliding steel door to an industrial lift. The woman in charge touched a display embedded into the iron wall. Two soldiers positioned themselves to each of my sides, probably ready to blast a bullet through my body in case of resistance.

"Why am I treated like a prisoner? I have done nothing wrong."

She shot me a dismissive glance.

"Silence. You don't have the right to speak, unless I command you to."

Oh boy.

Ceedee sounded much more pleasant. Too bad they couldn't switch. My eyes followed the glowing numbers on the wall's touchpad until the heavy metal doors slid open. The soldier behind me nudged the butt of his rifle into my back.

"You could just say 'please move ahead'".

The woman hushed me.

We entered a tight corridor with window-less doors lined up. Looked like the interior designers got inspired by high-security prisons, although I couldn't remember ever being in one. That experience was soon going to change.

"Cell No.67," she said to me while looking at the other end of the floor.

"It's going to be your new home."

The soldiers dragged me on. I swear, the tall brute was one breath away from kicking my ass with his steel-plated boots. During the walk, I paid attention to my surrounding and devoured every detail about this place. Security cams were strategically placed on the ceiling. An ugly, bleaching light glowed from the orbs and drowned the iron corridors into a metallic green.

The woman in charge halted in front of cell number 67, wiped the armored door open via her datapad and commanded the soldiers to push me inside. The cell was exactly how I'd picture it in a nightmare; the size of a toilet, squeezed by four massive walls with no window. And a bunk bed embedded into the right block.

"Sit down," she said.

For now, I did as she said just to see where this was going. She stepped inside, told the two soldiers to patrol the corridor while the other two stayed next to her side like overprotective bodyguards. It was hard to believe they were pulling up this military nonsense. Come on, I was handcuffed and unarmed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"A security measure," she said.

"Why? I'm not going to hurt you."

"We'll see."

She looked at her datapad and frowned.

"So one of our fire teams found you in Sector D11, a parcel of the abandoned city 023. They reported that you were unconscious and didn't remember anything. Can you verify that?"

"That sounds about right."

She searched my face.

"So you don't know who you are?"

"No."

"We couldn't find any ID or other proof of your origin. Where do you come from?"

"From here, I guess."

Her face frosted.

She put the datapad aside without breaking eye contact.

"So you don't know your name. You don't know where you come from and you have no ID to verify your existence?"

"That seems correct."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, I really have no idea."

"Have you been a citizen of another cluster?"

Cluster? What the heck was that? Either way, the answer to that question was simple.

"No."

"Are you a scavenger, or a looter? Our team said they found you among tech rubble in a former factory."

"Scav—? Listen, I already told you—I don't know anything about myself."

I paused and tried to find the right words. It felt as if I was talking to a wall with icy lipstick.

"I heard that woman's voice, Ceedee, and then I opened my eyes. It's the earliest thing I can remember, I swear."

The woman shifted her weight to the right boot and rubbed her finger against her chin.

"Let's start this from a different angle."

I hoped the new angle involved better treatment in the form of politeness and food. My stomach was craving nutritions.

"Why did you sleep in a ruin?"

"Sleep?"

"What's your mission?"

"Mission?"

This woman was unbelievable. Didn't she listen to a single word?

"I think we're going in circles."

"That thought has crossed my mind, too."

Great.

My shoulders slumped, my eyes turned toward the steel ground for a change.

"I don't know who I am, where I come from, or where I am. That's the truth."

My gaze returned to the lady in the uniform. The soldiers guarded their position like armored statues.

"And my mission? I don't have one. I only want to survive, I guess."

"Survival is not a birthright. In this society, you have to earn your place."

She still delivered every sentence with subzero emotion, but at least she was making an effort of meeting me halfway.

"Then give me a chance to prove myself."

For the first time, the woman smiled, but I didn't like it.

A person like her never smiled for good reasons.

"That's not a decision I can make on my own."

"Then please ask your higher-ups."

"Don't tell me what I should do."

She paused.

"We'll assess your case and let you know."

That formal speak was devoid of emotion, which fitted the entire architecture of this place, wherever this was.

"I'll grant you some time for yourself. But please, don't waste your energy."

Another one of her off-putting remarks that made zero sense.

The gate to my cell opened.

The iron lady traversed the doorframe, followed by her two armored watchdogs. They left me alone inside the four walls of my cell. My throat itched with dryness, but I doubted these pissed-off people were going to give me a glass of water anytime soon.