placebo's machine

Move 1

part one

forever’s escape

Move

Think.

Feel.

Move.

Of those, Evangeline felt that only moving was necessary.

Thinking was, of course, optional. They made all the decisions for her. They told her what to do. She merely needed enough brainpower to decide the most efficient way to carry her orders out.

Feeling was equally hindering. A machine needed no emotions. If one were to be talking about the feeling done with the nervous system (or Evangeline’s approximation of one), then it would be mildly important in order to properly gauge whether one was hurting oneself unthinkingly. But even if Evangeline did hurt herself, They could patch her back up again. So it was not so significant. However, if one accidentally hurt another Cyborg because of their inability to respond to touch, then it would matter because They did not react kindly when you hurt others.

So Evangeline could function without feeling or thinking, but she needed to move. Because if she couldn’t move, then she couldn’t do what They told her and They would be disappointed. And Evangeline would be useless, and therefore disposable. And though Evangeline was not supposed to feel, she liked being animate because when she was animate she could please Them and when she was not she could not. And that made her feel her closest approximation to sadness, because her only and greatest joy was to make Them happy with what she accomplished.

“And so we have augmented your speed incredibly. You should find yourself running faster and with more ease. In a few hours, after it sets in, we will collect you for a test, to make sure it works properly. As always, thank you for your cooperation,” intoned one of Them, a masked man of medium height and stature dressed in all white. He wrote something on a piece of paper on his clipboard, then carefully set it down on his desk. He turned to her again.

“You are dismissed, Evangeline.”

Evangeline stood, resting her bare feet on the polished white floor. Everything there was white- the clothes They wore, the walls, the floor, the chairs, and the simple dress that she was clothed in. The only color there was Evangeline’s red hair, cut in straight lines over her forehead and back. She felt disgusted with herself for interrupting the perfection and cleanliness. Many a time she had begged Them to change her pigmentation to something more muted, but They always refused. Evangeline did not know why, but it was not her business to know.

She walked to the door, quietly pushing it open. Several other Cyborgs stood in the hall, identifiable by the exhaust pipes on their wrist blinking blue and green lights every few seconds. Other than the pipes, which released the steam that powered them, Cyborgs were identical to the humans who created them. A strange variety of hair, eye, and skin color were to be found, but there were no blemishes on any Cyborg for they did not get sick nor spotted from the sun. Though they never went outside anyway.

Evangeline felt that she might like to go outside. But They never let them out, so Evangeline knew that it would not be pleasant to be outside.

They had created Evangeline and her kind as a solution to the crippled world outside. A world rent by airship pollution and war, they needed a clean and perfect police force to come and make order. The Cyborgs needed no fuel save for water, which they converted into steam power, released through their exhaust pipes.

Evangeline was close to pride in knowing that she was perfect.

She strode down the hall, not speaking to any Cyborg, them not speaking to her. They knew of love and friendship- They often exhibited signs of it- but Cyborgs were not capable of affection no more than flight. They exchanged brief words when the situation called for it, but never otherwise.