Typo

Chapter 7: Machinery

He clears his throat again and steps back. "Now, 1930, please step onto the platform." Harry gestures to the mass of technology.

I'm surprised by how kindly he is speaking to me. His voice is soft but also strong and commanding. Kind with a 'do not cross me' undertone. Every other Corrector I've come in contact with since this journey has begun has made it very clear they do not like me. Zayn being the prime example. I glance down at the Captain's wrist to make sure he isn't a Typo who has been recruited by the army. There is no identification code on his left wrist which means he is a Clone or he is a naive patriot.

I rip my eyes from his extraordinarily long fingers and shifting them to the machinery against the wall. I look at it with a mix of bewilderment and amazement. I've never seen anything so high tech, nor had I expected I ever would. Norton had one computer. And that was in Jade's office. I saw her use it once or twice when reporting a problem about the selections. But it was nothing like this. Nothing so.... extreme. For lack of a better word. So many screens and buttons; wires dangling from the ceiling. Robotic-like limbs poised in violent positions. Its size and its mystery, intimidating in every meaning of the word. Screens and keyboards are pushed off to the side, along with a chair. What I would do to sit down in that chair.

A small, black square raised about two inches off the ground sits in the middle of it. I assume that's what he means by 'platform.'

Harry leaves my side and walks behind the machine. He plops down on the seat with a sigh. He puts something in his ears and he taps the several buttons, hands moving fluidly over a key board. He pauses abruptly to turn his head to me, looking at me expectantly and ticks his head toward the platform. I hadn't realized I didn't move from my spot in front of the door.

I apprehensively walk over to the expensive looking machinery. Harry touches the screens on the machine and I grow more hesitant as the machine starts to tick. I slowly step onto the platform and it stinks a little under my weight.

Nothing seems to happen at first. The ticking grows a little louder and faster, and the platform continues to slowly sink under my feet. The machine makes a couple quiet sounds, nothing exciting. Harry gives curt nod and begins touching more buttons.

"Don't move." He tells me.

I gasp when the machine makes a loud noise and it begins to move around me. Robotic-like arms swoop past my face and above my head. It's all very chaotic as machine moves and flashes. I yelp when something touches the top of my head. Without thinking, I step off the platform and back up several feet. The machine's movements grind to a halt as soon as my foot leaves the black square. It makes a continuos high pitched screech until Harry touches the screen and it stops.

Harry tilts his head, looking at me quizzically. The look makes me feel like a child. I cross my arms over my chest. "I told you it isn't going to hurt you." He says.

"It touched me." I snap, glaring at the machine. It makes a beep, as if it had sensed it. I briefly entertain the idea that it had. You never know with the advanced technology the Correctors have.

Machine from hell. I think bitterly.

"It's just measuring your height." He says gently. His tone makes me feel even more degraded. Well why the fuck is it measuring my height?

"It touched me." I repeat, refusing to be seen as irrational.

My anxiety from boarding the train, running twenty miles, being told I'm going to be killed, drinking horse water, and waiting in line have all bunched into this moment. My brain, which has been lagging this entire trip, suddenly does an intense round of catch up. I didn't allow myself to fully absorb the severity of the situation. But my guard has slipped from fear of the high tech machinery, and the horror of death sneaks through as well. The machine is suddenly the most frightening thing in the room.