Clockwork Minds

Chapter 11: Assembling the Pieces

After attacking a nurse, I was strapped down in a straightjacket, my body bound but my mind racing. The door opened, and Dr. Mendez stepped in. He was a new face, with cold eyes and a clipboard that he wielded like a weapon.

"Elmara," he said, looking at me as though I were a particularly perplexing machine. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Because your staff is incompetent," I replied, struggling against the tight fabric. "That nurse dared to look at me like I'm some strange animal. If you don't understand boundaries, you're bound to suffer the consequences."

His pen scratched against paper. "Interesting. You seem to have an unusual attachment to boundaries, yet you violate them with others."

"Boundaries keep things ordered," I snapped, eyes narrowing. "Machines have them. Gears don't just fly out of place unless something's gone wrong. But humans...you're all chaotic, messy. You don't know how to stay in line."

"Or perhaps, Elmara, you're just afraid of the chaos within yourself," he mused, jotting something down. "Tell me about the machines you like to build. Torture devices, I hear?"

I smirked. "It's not torture if it's a machine. It's just science. Don't you understand? Every cog, every wheel, it has a purpose. It doesn't make mistakes. I just assemble the pieces; they do the work."

He looked up, studying me for a long moment. "So, you view humans as malfunctioning machines?"

"Exactly," I said, feeling a dark satisfaction at his discomfort. "Humans are defective. It's almost laughable how easily they break. But machines, they're loyal. Strong."

He shook his head. "You've been trained to think that way, haven't you? I've read about your grandfather, the soldier. You must've had quite an upbringing."

I flinched. The memories of my grandfather's strict teachings flashed through my mind—long hours spent studying blueprints, his harsh reprimands when I dared make a mistake. "He understood things you never will," I said quietly, venom lacing my voice. "Humans are disposable. Machines...machines are worth something."

Dr. Mendez leaned back, studying me with his cold, calculating gaze, the flicker of interest unmistakable. He seemed unfazed by my words, if anything, almost intrigued. There was a glint in his eye that reminded me of a scientist studying a specimen. It was the first time in a while I'd felt genuinely curious about another person. This one wasn't afraid.

"Your grandfather was a soldier. Rigorous, disciplined, and yet... detached. Tell me, Elmara, do you really think machines are superior because they follow orders without question?" His pen hovered, waiting.

"Machines don't just follow orders," I snapped. "They perform. They execute with precision and consistency. No hesitation, no fear. People fail all the time because they can't stay focused.""People fail because they feel, Elmara. Because they're human."

I smirked, shaking my head as much as the restraints allowed. "Feelings are distractions. The only reason they matter is to exploit them, to use them as a means to an end. You get more out of people when you know exactly where to apply pressure."

He jotted something down again, but I noticed his eyes dart toward a glass display case in the far corner of the room, tucked behind a set of heavy, locked cabinets. Inside, small glass containers lined the shelves—each one held a brain, perfectly preserved, labeled with dates and codes I couldn't decipher. The brains shimmered under the dim light, hauntingly beautiful in their fragility. The sight made something in me stir, an idea forming, enticing, and dangerous.

My gaze flickered back to him, my mind already racing with possibilities. "You have a collection, Dr. Mendez," I said slowly, drawing his attention. "But I don't see any brains of real interest in there. Nothing like mine."

His eyebrow arched, intrigued. "Oh? And what makes you so sure your brain would be any more... significant?"

"Let me put it this way," I replied, voice smooth. "Give me access to a workshop, to the resources I need, and I'll make your research worth your while. You know I'm not just another 'patient,' Dr. Mendez. You've seen my record. But I need the freedom to experiment and create, away from this ward's constraints. Let me out, and you can keep the ultimate prize—my brain. Full access, full ownership, once I die."

He didn't reply immediately, his pen hovering mid-air. His eyes narrowed, assessing me. "You propose a contract, then? In exchange for your freedom... you offer your brain to science?"

"Yes," I said. "Think of the possibilities, Dr. Mendez. A brain trained to execute with precision, without the weaknesses of humanity. A brain you could study, dissect, and control. I'd even let you examine it yourself. But only if I get out of here. Think of what I could create—things even you haven't thought of."

He smiled slightly, a dark gleam in his eye as he finally lowered his pen, tapping it against the clipboard thoughtfully. "Fascinating, Elmara. You know, I've read many case studies on pathological narcissism, but yours? This is something... extraordinary."

"Extraordinary enough to accept the offer?" I asked, my voice a smooth, dangerous whisper.

Mendez leaned closer, his voice as soft as mine. "We'll have to work out the details. But you have my attention."