An uninhabited cell in the midst of one of the busiest floors, full of inhabited cells. It took us three days.
And three hours for me to realize why someone so skilled in hacking, so clever as to clever as to erase thier entire existance in the event that they leave, would leave behind any clue as to thier identity.
Because they never thought they would truly escape.
The problem with this clue is that when we checked the camera, it blew itself out. Instantly. As soon as the back panel came off, a burst of electricity shot out of the camera, zapping the soldier holding it unconcious, and little bolts of blue raced over it's surface. Broken if ever broken was a thing.
I can't not crack this case. I can't. That'll be the end of me.
Earlier, I ordered ten soldiers to ask around, seeing if people remembered a face. We got maybe one detail out of every person, painting a very sketchy picture. A girl, said one person. Small, said another. And so slowly, we got the image-- a small girl with long platnim-blonde hair, and silverey eyes that reflected every surface she was near.
Silvery eyes.
Silver eyes, starign at me as the world fades to black.
Oh, Stars, I've seen her. She disguised herself-- her voice, her face-- but I've seen her.
I order my soldiers to go back to command and train and then once again all but run to the database, doing a sketch face search. One of our top technologigists came up with the concept a few years ago-- you sketch a face in a search engine using precise feature placement, light refrence, addded facial features, etc. It's like creating a little person made to look like someone else. Then the engine searches the database for that person, similar faces, etc.
I draw in a face the best I can, considering that I never really saw her face save for her eyes. It comes up as 100 results. I don't have time to evalute 100 results. I add in a colorfilter, making the eyes silver-grey, the closest color I can find to what her eyes actually look like. 21. Better. I quickly scan over the faces-- one catches my eye.
It says terminated in bright red letters. We have no need to update records after termination But I click it anyway.
She was terminated at the exact time a ship left the shuttle bay. Same day.
I zoom in on the pictures, staring her down. Her eyes aren't silver-- instead, they reflect white, as if glowing. The surface around her, the entire room and the lights, are white.
That's how I know I've found her.
I scroll down the page quickly, looking for the locate button. We all have a tracker, a small one in our wrist. They told us we all had one implanted as youths, which is why we don't notice any abnormal bumps or have any memories of the implants. The trackers grow with us, making sure mobody can leave.
We tried locating the others, but each time we got a completley different set of coordinates far outside of our system, making it quite obvious they were bouncing their signals. There's no way, not even a possibility, they would risk running out of energy in the middle of nowhere and slowly suffocating. They had to stay in our system.
I find it, the bright green letters staring back at me from the white glaring screen. I hesitate for a moment, then press it.
And again.
And again.
And each time, no location pops up.
She killed her tracker.
YOU ARE READING
Mindless
Science FictionThe human race has been reprogrammed. Humans are efficient, accurate, hardworking, and of one mind, There are no disputes, no diseases, nothing abnormal. But abnormalities are what give people the ability to think for themselves, and without it, hum...
