The Boy Who Sang About the Stars

Chapter 23

Looking back now, my act of defiance against the Daleks was a rather stupid idea. Granted, at the time I had so much information running through my mind that I really hadn't any idea what I was saying in the first place.

 

Of course I was going to help the Daleks.

 

When it came down to it, I really had no choice in the matter. After all, I was their prisoner. I didn't want to help them in the least bit. I had absolutely no desire to cause mass genocide that would leave the blood of millions of innocent people on my hands.

 

Since our little meeting in that large room the Daleks had been taking me out of my cell more frequently. I still visited the Chamber daily, and now that I knew that the things I saw we.re far more than hallucinations, the whole ordeal took on a new level of torchure. After learning the truth about my “talents”, the things my subconscious created terrified me, I had no control over what forms the smoke took on. But, overtime I was able to teach myself to tame the ominous purple gas. It took an immense amount of concentration, but if I focused hard enough I could get it to take on the shapes that I wanted to.

 

I know that by actually harnessing my ability I was playing right along with the Daleks little play date of doom, but as I mentioned, I really have no choice in the matter. Not to mention, the Daleks had outfitted me with a customized shock collar that would send bursts of electricity through my system if I didn't cooperate with what they wanted me to do. I found the thin ring of metal encircling my neck when I had woken up in my cell after our get together. It made more sense to listen to them than have my neck fried off.

 

The Chamber was no longer the only place I spent time out of my cell now a days. Lately, every other day or so, I was collected and brought to a room that consisted of three Daleks and a wall mounted monitor. I would sit in a chair in the center of the room, and listen as the Daleks droned on and on about their glorious plan. My part was simple. I use my ability to manipulate the mist to create a new, stronger, race of Daleks to release upon the universe.

 

The screen on the wall displayed countless diagrams of what these new Daleks were to be. By now, I had every last detail drilled into my brain. From the thicker armor to the enhanced strategic ability. It appeared that these new Daleks we.re going to be the closest thing I would ever have to children, becuase most likely when the Daleks we.re done with me they we.re most likely going to kill me on the spot.  

 

I

 

I stopped typing on the small computer screen embedded into my jackets arm and looked up upon hearing the sound of my cell door opening. I had already visited the Chamber today, so it must have been time for another session of looking over Dalek schematics until I became exhausted and my shock collar had to be used to wake me up.

The ginger slave is standing at the entrance to the cell. “The Daleks have summoned you.”

 

I had never heard the slave speak before. Her voice is quiet, reserved, with a slight hint of sadness etched into it. I find myself wondering if she recalls her life before she became what she is now. Who was she then? Are there people out there wondering what became of her, or do they already know?