III.

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Content warnings: Suicidal thoughts, graphic murder, a very brief mention of human trafficking

Chapter word count: 4,222

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Aiden wakes up to find the blue skies gliding above him.

I'm still here?

He pushes himself up on his elbows, turning left and right to find roofs and buildings and leftover construction materials scattered about him. He shakes his head, grunting atop the same shipping container and jerks when his hand unconsciously touches something small and cold by his knees — it's the phone, the screen back to being dead and useless right next to him. He shakes his head for the second time and almost laughs. He's gotten increasingly jumpy because of this stupid phone. He's still convinced that if the robots don't kill him sooner then he's a hundred percent sure that this single tiny device will end him the next second it wakes up without preamble.

Well, at least the phone wouldn't burn me alive. That's something.

He rubs his eyes to chase away the sleepiness from his face. It's a wonder how he managed to wake up at all from the exhaustion and the torture, but at least he feels a little recovered now, somehow. He needs all the rest he can get and that precious sleep was a nice break from this extremely long nightmare.

Aiden pockets the phone, massages his neck and tries to stretch his arms although there escapes a wince from his lips as his burns start flaring up with each simple movement. He hauls himself up to his feet and carefully climbs down the shipping container, exiting through the open gates and begins his lonely march to nowhere.

Birds are singing from an unseeable distance. A breeze passes him by. Trees dance under the blue skies. But he's the only person in this world to witness all this simple beauty.

I don't want to be alone anymore.

Aiden skids to a halt when several female voices spring about throughout the streets and every electronic sign, ATM, TV display from shop windows blink back into life all around him. He jogs towards a nearby ATM and realizes that the several female voices are just one woman talking over a video seemingly promoting the ctOS. Aiden drinks the advertisement in, both amazed and puzzled at these virtual promises of security and a better future, but backs away in an instant as soon as the female voice starts glitching for a good few seconds. He pulls out the gun and throws a suspicious glance all over the streets, but there is nobody lurking around to attack him. He lowers the gun, finger ready for the trigger.

He focuses on the ATM again as the ad plays in a monotonous loop. Health, privacy, security, safety for the family — they all promise everything he doesn't have. He stands there transfixed on this curious little phenomenon until he hears something — something driving?

His heart freezes for a second.

Could that be...?

Aiden whips back to the streets to chase the source of this noise. He runs, sprints, heart a wild set of drums as he hears it all: car horns, people talking, police sirens, laughter, music, air conditioners humming as he runs past back alleys —

He stops in the middle of an intersection and finds dead cars. No one is driving. No one is talking. No one is laughing. No one is singing.

Nobody is headed here. The delightful mundane noises are gone.

Nothing had been there in the first place.

Aiden puts his hands on his hips and grinds his teeth, hard. He bellows in fury, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging it down to the ground. He paces, in a broken circle, stomping and stomping and stomping, close to tears, close to putting the gun in his mouth to swallow the barrel and pull the trigger —

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