(DISCLAIMER: Very short chapter, ~500 words)
Kyre walked alongside Erissa, moving with the rest of the inmates and into the courtyard. He took note of a shoddy basketball hoop planted in the corner, cushioned seats, and tables. Looking to the furthest edge of the courtyard, a large building marked library stood- it looked mildly older, despite the walls being constructed in the same white steel that covered everywhere else. The entirety of Cell Station 3 seemed blandly white to Kyre, it stood out against the broken, sand-packed ground. Erissa was also glancing around, the oddly excited wonder flooding her eyes seemed to be focused on the library.
Kyre silently roamed around the courtyard, watching for holes in the fence; he was certainly not planning on staying in this hellscape for 23 whole years. While he couldn't piece together where he would go or what he would do after escaping, he had a sneaking suspicion that escaping this place was nearly impossible.
Lunch had already passed-consisting of a mix of protein blocks and a larger helping of negligibly warmer soup. In the middle of the spacious courtyard, a tower that was made of sturdy metal stood tall. This tower ran tall out of reach, although its 30-foot height barely reached midway to the ceiling; blacked-out windows lined the top, alongside a balcony wrapping all around the tower. Erissa followed his gaze, looking up at the tower. The walls were perfectly smooth, most likely to keep subjects from climbing them.
"How was work for you?" Erissa questioned, trying to break the stillness.
"Cold,"
"How cold?"
"2 degrees cold."
Erissa grimaced. "You can't possibly be serious." She looked around, spotting an empty table- she led Kyre over and sat across from him. Kyre was about to speak up; Erissa cut him off. "How's your shoulder? It wouldn't heal that fast." She mused, in an almost suspicious tone. He tilted his head quizzically, and touched his shoulder gingerly; Kyre had completely forgotten about it. Pulling his uniform's collar away barely, his shoulder looked nearly untouched compared to what it had looked like just yesterday. His mind flashed back to his encounters with Dr. King as he gaped at his shoulder. It was still a little off-tone, but it looked nothing like the sea of purple and black that had been there originally.
Kyre's voice emerged as a strained squeak, laced with disbelief. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, betraying his embarrassment as he stared at the rapid healing that had taken place in just two short days. "Wh-how?" he stammered, uncertainty palpable in his wide eyes, reflecting both awe and confusion. How hadn't he noticed sooner?
Erissa looked conflicted, a scowl crossing her face as she considered whether to flee or stay. Kyre scanned the area, searching for a reason why his shoulder was almost perfectly fine. "Kyre," Erissa breathed, drawing Kyre's gaze back to her. She was staring up at the center tower- Kyre followed her gaze, up to the balcony. A figure leaned against the balcony railing- Kyre had to squint his eyes to identify it.
He towered over them, his imposing figure casting a long shadow. His sharp gaze pierced through the bright light, revealing a mix of authority and curiosity. Kyre did a double take, looking back at Erissa- she looked back at him, a worried look on her face- and looked back up at the tower.
Dr. King was gone.
YOU ARE READING
The Perfect Machine: A History of Our Future
Science Fiction"Then why is it that I remember yesterday, and it seems nobody else does? Is it just the injection.. or -" He questioned urgently, cut off by Osprey freezing in place. He turned slowly to Kyre, stepping back away from him. "Kid, nobody has remembere...
