Reprogramed

Traitor

'Buzz, buzz',  I feel the wrist band that is locked on my pale white skin sending shocks of electricity through my body reminding me that it is time for me to wake up.  I stand up and change out of my pajama's into my working uniform which is just a very unflattering white body outfit.  I look around my room to make sure everything is in order.  Everything is the same as it is everyday.  White walls, white floor, white bed's but what really stands out the most is our white clock that my room-mates and I share showing me that it is 6:00 am.

 My room-mates have already gone down to their working station's, I groan just thinking about an entire day wasted for those no life posers.  My best friend, Atraya must already be down at our work station.  I can picture her skinny little body sitting down with her dirty blond hair tied into a tight pony- tail and her green eyes focused on her cut up fingers.  Everyone who works in my station all have cut up fingers from the sharp, microscopic tracker's slipping out of our grasp and slicing what ever flesh is available, which so happens to always be our fingers.I brush my long, wavy, chocolate brown hair that flows down to my waist.  The robots never care to cut our hair and certainly never care to let us cut it on our own.

As I walk down the twisted hall way that is almost identical to my room except for the lack of our ratty, old bed's that we have to sleep on, I wonder if this is it for me.  To finish my life here and then be sent away to some whore-house and watch as my future children get torn apart from me and know that they won't have future and that I can't even do anything about that.  As I thought about this I bump into a hard figure that I did not even notice until the collision.  Then I see 3 large boxes tumble to the ground spilling metal pieces and parts.

''I am so sorry, I didn't see you there I-''

'' Crap!  You should watch were you're going do you know what they are going to me when I don't deliver these on time?''

 Said a boy that looked about my age.  He had black, shaggy hair and was strong and muscular.  He had the same tone of ivory skin that I do as of most of us from the lack of sunlight, but his seemed to work for him and his brown eyes stared deep with rage into my ice blue ones.

By the look's of his sturdy build and the crago he is carrying, he is a scrapper.  People that deliver and retrieve robot part's to and from certain work stations.

"Look, I said I was sorry, alright?  Do you have to make this harder than it already is?"  I say defensive as if his life is any harder than anybody eles' around here. 

He looks like he has to think about this for a moment, "just watch where you are going next time."

I walked past him while he was picking up his debris that had fallen out and saw his eyes trace my every move. 'A scrapper ' I think to myself.  They have the most freedom than anyone, no human imposter is at their back everyday striking them down. Still I can't help thinking about how much trouble they do get in when something like this does happen to them.

****

I arrive at my station and sit down on the cold, white chair located at a black conveyor belt, the only thing that is not white in this place.  I look around my post and see the other slaves that have just sat down.  The convayer belt hasn't started yet but exactly 30 seconds after we all sit down a loud bell rings.  Then I see a glimpse of glossy, white skin appear from the bottom of the stairs.  They all march perfectly up the stairs and in to our work room.  One by one, each robot stops at their slave that they are assigned to and start hitting them as a sign to start working.  Then, a blond haired robot arrives in front of me raising his arm to strike me.  I brace myself for the impact but just as I did I heard a loud 'zap' and then nothing hit my back.

I whipped my head to the side to see what caused this interruption.  A thin girl with dirty blond hair standing over a dis-functioning robot.  I can recognize that face from anywhere.  Her first scrunched up and red could only lead to one possibility.  Atraya punched the robot when it tried to hit her.  Her green eyes where filled with rage and then all of the sudden, she starts jerking her body every where and then I can see blue bolts shoot from her wrist band to all over her body.  The smell of burning flesh filled my nose as every one, even the robots stare at her with such interest and fear.  I finally see Atraya fall to the ground with both her hair and skin blackened from the burns of the electricity.  Pain shoots through my heart and hot prickles of tears threaten to leave my eyes.  They are going to kill her if I don't do something about it now.  She will be known as the traitor who decided to rebel and then sentenced for a tortures execution.  I lift my self up feeling strong, hard hits across my back, but I just ignored it.  I have to save Atraya.  Running as fast as I can from all the robots in the room, who are now peeling their artificial eyes from Atraya's stunt and lockig on me, I bend down to the charred girl and try to pick her up.  I am to weak to even lift her frail, little body so dragging her seemed to be my last option.