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

The Order of Orden

"Soldier," she said.

"But keep in mind—the committee has added remarks to your profile."

Konforma showed me the comments of the so-called committee, whoever they were.

"You can be downgraded to the digger status in case you abuse your role as a soldier and/or fail to comply."

So no more joking for me, which was probably the biggest challenge so far. Still, for the time being, I promised to change. At least they gave me a chance to redeem myself, which would buy me enough time to figure out this society and the world around it. Everyday a little progress, that was the game from now on. For once, I strapped away all sarcasm.

"Thanks for giving me the chance to serve your community."

"Thank us by being useful."

Of course she had to say it. But the lecture still didn't stop. Konforma always had something to say.

"Please check your communication device around your wrist. It's connected to the Bulwark network."

"You mean my handcuffs?"

She pursed her lips. Looked almost as if she sulked.

"They're not handcuffs, they are communication cuffs, or commcuffs for short. With them, you can access your permissions, societal status, duties, the cluster map, the primer and many other options. Its secondary function is to connect with fellow citizen and superiors. Consider it your guide, wrapped stylishly around your wrist."

This girl had a lot to learn about style. The so-called commcuff looked like a rusty gear from a tank wreckage.

"Guess I won't be winning any fashion awards anytime soon."

An ear-biting noise cheeped.

"Warning: your permission to sleep for six hours has been reduced to five hours per day."

"Oh come on, that wasn't even offensive."

"You'll learn. You'll have to."

Konforma waved me goodbye over the wall-screen.

"Be productive, citizen. Serve the Bulwark, and the Bulwark will watch over you. And please, watch your mouth. Punishment is only a syllable away."

And with that, she vanished from the wall-screen and turned into my loathed steel block again. I decided to lie down on my bunk bed since I didn't have to fear a shock therapy anymore. Five hours of sleeping time left and still no food for me. As if the abductors could read my mind, a slid opened on the ground next to the door. A little metallic box awaited me.

Could it be?

Nah, it couldn't.

Still, I wanted, no, I needed to check. I got up from my bed, crawled toward the tray and picked up the iron cover. The smell of cooked meat and steamed vegetables bedazzled my nostrils. Next to it stood an one liter bottle of lukewarm water. Not heaven, but the first step toward ascension. I gulped down half the bottle's content before I wreaked havoc on the meat which turned out to be artificial. Similar taste, not quite the flavor as the real thing. Didn't matter. My body was starving and I enjoyed every juicy bite. In a matter of two minutes, my stomach was filled and felt like a sack full of ironed bricks. I waddled toward the bed and lay down. Closed my eyes and went offline. Believe it or not, but I actually was excited about the next day.

I wondered what novelty it would bring.

Just like before, the surprises kept coming.

When I woke up again, the iron lady stood in my cell, the datapad stuck in her long fingers, the guards watching me with rifles ready.

"You're a new citizen of our glorious Bulwark. This must be the best day of your life."

"I've seen better."

"Are you sure?"

No. The past still remained that murky place which blackened the more I tried to think about it.

"Your assessment result was more than adequate, it was good."

The iron lady and her compliment, an oxymoron.

"Keep them coming," I said.

"Better not. Egomaniacs rarely contribute."

She wiped some screens on her datapad.

"For the next weeks, you will receive the best combat training this world has ever seen. You will dive deeply into tactics, firearms and urban warfare. Follow our orders, and you will receive permissions to live the best possible life."

Tempting, but the excitement stayed shallow.

"What exactly am I training for?"

"Silence. You don't have the permission to ask me unless I tell you so."

"Got it."

She walked around my tiny cell without breaking eye contact.

"Where did you learn how to shoot a gun?"

"Don't know."

"Have you been part of a paramilitary group?"

"Probably not."

"Can you tell me anything new about your past?"

"Doesn't look like it."

She narrowed her eyes and threw me a glance that could eat through steel. The iron lady must have thought I was messing with her.

I was a mystery to myself.

"Does it matter? I seem to be a good shooter. I believe I can become a valuable member of your society."

"Time will show us the truth—eventually. But for now, save your energies and prepare for tomorrow. Konforma has a myriad of training sessions prepared for you. The goal is to operate with striking efficiency."

And with that, she marched out of my cell. Before the prison door closed down, I asked her.

"What's your name?"

"Did you remember what I said about your lack of permissions?"

"I was just wondering."

The iron lady's rigid face eased up by a nano-millimeter.

"Orden. Just call me Chief Orden."

"Nice. I wish I could introduce myself, but my name's still eluding me."

"Who cares about you?"

Her face froze, the door closed down.

I do, I thought. Way after the iron lady and her armored guards had left me.

With only four and a half hours left, I spent every minute of my time relaxing.

To win their trust, I had to play the good citizen.