Breaking Free

BT7192

"BT7192, this is your automated wake up call" I open my eyes and half sit up, leaning onto my right arm. I look over my shoulder at the robotic humanoid standing a few feet away from my bed. It's white, with a slim, polished figure, about five two with an egg shaped head, and it's only form of legs are a single wheel. "BT7192, this is your automated wake up call" it repeats. I turn over, back into my sleeping position, before grabbing one of the boots from my side of the bed and throwing it over my shoulder. Knowing I hit my target as I hear a crash and the robot breaks into what I'm assuming is four pieces and crumples to the ground. I close my eyes to try and get some more sleep before I hear the familiar shaking of metal against the ground and- "BT7192, this is your automated wake up call". I look over my shoulder again to where the robot's head slowly glides back into place, almost like it was being pulled by a magnet, now no longer a pile of crap on the floor. I groan and throw the thin sheet off of my legs before swinging them off the bed. I stretch my arms over my head, "BT7192, this is your automated wake up call". "Will you shut the fuck up already" I ask turning to look at the damn thing. "Thank you for your compliance" it wheels backwards before turning out the door and going somewhere down the hall, mostly likely to annoy the next poor soul in the cell over. I roll my eyes as I stand and grab my clothes from their place on the floor beside my bed. I gently take off my shirt, making sure not to bump any bruises that may or may not be there from previous morning wake ups. The dull navy shirt with my number stitched into it and the khaki pants feel rough on my skin, a feeling I've become quite accustomed to. I put on the rest of my uniform before walking up to the glass door of my cell. I stand looking at it, wondering if it's going to actually open today, it does. I step out into the corridor, I'm on the fourth floor of the "containment center". It's a prison, they call it a "containment center" because it makes it seem more humane. Keeping me and my people here because they find our way of life "savage" and "insufficient", there's nothing humane about that. They claim they keep us here to keep us save, but I know the truth. We frighten them, they keep us here because they feel the need to control what they don't understand. I look to my left, seeing guards lined up every fifteen feet or so along the rails, making sure everyone gets to where they need to be, and no one ends up taking the quick way to the first floor. A few robots zoom around as-well, folding clothes and giving wake up calls. I start my daily trek down the hall, walking to the right towards the stairs. Suddenly a flash of dark blue flies infront of me, slamming into the metal railing to my left with a loud clang, then a groan. A boy, young looking, can't be older than 15, has been thrown from his room. A guard in black walks out of the cell and I take a few steps back, knowing my boundaries. He grabs the slumped over boy by the hair, with a deep, heavy accent that I assume to be Scottish he says quietly, "next time, get up when the damn bot tells you". He drops the boy and walks away, whistling a cheery tune as he goes. I look down at the boy, slumped over, and breathing heavily while clutching his side. I roll my eyes, before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. "If you stay on the ground he'll come back, wipe those tears away, and wake up when the bot tells you, don't try and push the rules here kid" I say. I lean him against the bars that look down to where he can see the bottom floor and the layers of floors above it. "You fight the guards and push the rules here and you'll end up being found dead on the first floor, no witnesses, no proof of foul play, only a stain on the ground to remember you". He looks at me, his brown eyes watering, "I wanna' go home" he whispers. I repeat the same thing I've been told hundreds of times since my arrival here
"this is your home now".