2074

Prologue: Sylvia

'The year was 2074, scientists had figured out how to turn humans into living weapons, and three daring and brave girls were sent on a mission to be the test subjects for the final product. What they didn't know was that they may not survive...'

I looked at the glowing screen of Clara's computer on the mahogany, wooden desk. I shook my head, sighed, and closed the tab. I was on a writing and reading website, and I came across a story that had interesting cover art. But the concept was silly anyway.

Why would we need weapons? It's not like we're in a war or something. And how would this person know about science? It said in their profile, that they were in our age range, 12 to 13. It would probably be a crazy story, with horrible grammar. I'm not trying to throw shade at people who are 12 to 13. As I mentioned, I am 13 years old myself. But some teens have a lot of creativity when it comes to writing. I should know. Al is a writer, and she's crazy.

I then wondered. Would something like that happen to us? I mean, we're young, daring, and brave. Well, maybe not. But we're a group of three! Maybe it could happen?

Now that I think about it, that would have been a firm no. And I thought the same at that exact moment. Even if that did happen, and someone wrote a story about it, that story wouldn't be interesting. No one would believe it, or read it.

It wouldn't be good to make light of such a situation and create a story on it, anyway. It would be offensive, and just horrible overall. We, or the main characters would suffer through a load of trauma. So I stopped with that thought and closed the computer. "Alright. So guys, what are we doing?"

Al stared at me confusedly through her thin-rimmed glasses. "Uh, Sylvia, we've been playing cards for ten minutes. You should have noticed."

Clara shrugged. "I mean, she's been on the computer for some time, she probably didn't notice."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not that ignorant, Clara. I just didn't expect you guys to be playing Crazy Eights for so long."

"It's a fun game," Al shrugged.

Not surprising. Al always finds things fun. "Alright. So, can I join in?"

"Sure, after this game. I'm winning," Clara boasted.

"Oh, shut up," Al said, lightly punching Clara.

"HAHAHA! I WON!" Al screamed, her loud voice piercing my ears.

"Keep it down! It's 11 p.m!" I shushed Al.

"Fine..."

"Yeah..." Clara sighed. "Please shut up."

Al pouted. "So mean..." she shook it off anyway. "Well, you wanna join, Sylvia?"

I smiled. "Yeah, why not?"

It had been a few hours since we started, and Al was right. Crazy Eights was a fun game. But it was soon 10:00 PM, and I thought that it was well time for us to hit the sack. Our parents probably wouldn't let us have a sleepover again if we were tired in the morning.

"Alright, guys, we should go to bed," I said.

"But-"

"Sylvia's right, Al," Clara told Al.

"Fine," she grumbled. "This is so fun."

Al then showered because she didn't before, and after that, we all brushed our teeth, and Al and I set up our sleeping bags. Clara got into bed after we were done, and just as she turned off the light, Clara's mother walked in.

"Oh, you guys are already in bed? Good night then. I love you, Clara! Sleep tight!" she said as she closed the door.

"Yeah, you too, Mom!" Clara said.