Trust issues
I'm going to be blunt, I really hate waking up in a room after getting knocked out; And so it was that I began to use my most powerful psychological weapon... The silent treatment.
I glared quietly at the camera for about an hour after I woke up, and then when a girl came in and set a tray of food down at the table, I glared at her. When she left, I ignored the food and continued to glare at the camera, all the while trying to hide my thoughts from the traitorous nano-machine in my head.
I was like that for hours before the food came, just silently staring at the camera, I'll admit I caved after a few minutes or so and ate the burrito I was given, along with taking a sip of water to wash it down, but otherwise? I glared.
It was about 15 minutes after I had the burrito that Tom finally said something, "I would like to apologize."
I grunted out loud, it was easier to imagine him talking from behind me at the table, a person, rather than a machine in my head. He continued, "the particular protocol was not my doing, I carried it out yes, but can you blame a computer for running a program the CIA would use to spy on you?"
I cocked my head, "what's the CIA?"
"An old earth government agency, supposedly the were part of the United States."
I was back to being quiet, not out of spite any more, but rather thinking... All Tom really was is a glorified PC, and if you have high enough administrative privileges, you can get a computer to do anything. I suddenly realized what I had to do.
"That program, was it sent to you and activated? Or has it been there all along?"
"It was there all along, they just sent the trigger code."
I nodded, "show me the specific code, the one that is integrated with you."
Immediately my vision filled with lines of code, finally stopping at a section that looked like this:
// emergency protocols code A13
Beth;)&7jkh7&gu$6uk(yj(6jh(....
On and on, for lines and lines, I groaned, "it's encrypted"
"I'm afraid I cannot help matters either, this is a section of code I'm not allowed to decrypt or alter."
My tablet, I needed my tablet! Ugh, I hate this! Think... Think...
Parley.
My head snapped back to the camera, and glared for a few more seconds before telling it, "I want to talk to whoever the hell is in charge here!"
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On the other side of the camera, in a room that required three different security scans to enter it, sat Gerard Arsic. And in front of Gerard was a particular monitor, showing a particular boy, with a particularly unnerving glare. Gerard shifted for what had to have been the hundredth time as he watched the supposedly high priority prisoner look into what felt like his soul, 'that kind of look is unnatural' Gerard thought, 'he looks...' He paused for a moment, momentarily distracted by the slight flicker on one of the other cameras.
He scanned the monitors until he found the cause, the lunch room had sent down food for the prisoner. He let her in, watched carefully as she placed the food on the table, and then let her out remotely. Gerard relaxed slightly, the boy's glare had moved from the camera to the girl, and now he was looking at the food. Gerard leaned back, relaxing more and more the longer the boys glare wasn't on the camera, and then he started talking to himself.
It was about fifteen minutes after the boy had eaten the burrito, and in that time Gerard had received and finished his lunch, a tuna salad sandwich. He sat as his eyes started drooping, tired from the food and a mentally exhausting shift, and then the boy grunted.
Gerard immediately shot up, 'that's the first noise he's made all day!'
Gerard watched the screen, turning up the volume on the speakers in his room, which happened to be connected to a microphone hidden just beneath the camera. Sat with his eyes glued to the screen, and just when he was beginning to think he imagined the boy grunted, the boy spoke.
Gerard listened, he even took notes, it sounded as though... As though he was communicating with someone, but who? Gerard thought, who would have the resources? And then the boy glared at the camera, no, glared at him, and said, "I want to talk to whoever the hell is In charge here!"
Gerard practically fell out of his chair, fumbled for a near by radio and said shakily, "boss, the prisoner wants to talk to you."
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After yelling my demand out to the camera, I began glaring again, this time at the titanium alloy door that kept me in this box; waiting, rather impatiently, for I assumed General Quade. When the door opened I was blown away.
------------A/N------------
alrighty! What you guys think of the alternate perspective? I was tossing the idea around for a while, but didn't know if I wanted to use a current character or a minor, never to be heard from again kinda guy.
Anyway, let me know what you think! This chapter was longer as promised, though it did end on cliffhanger :(
Please vote and follow, every bit helps!