Strong For Too Long Trilogy ✔️

06. Hijacking The Criminally Insane

CHAPTER 6: Hijacking The Criminally Insane

I was a programme, it was as simple as that. I had gotten use to being called 'Candidate Eleven' over the past few weeks, whether it had been more than a few weeks-I hadn't know. My thoughts were discarded and distorted. I stared at the screen when assessing certified coordinations for multiple agencies of sorts was a part of my assignments, running those coordinates and accessing their systems with a double manual split between screens.

Food consisted of drinks, smoothies, nutritional shakes of bland fragrances was all I was allowed to consume. My mind stopped telling me to notice how skinny to the bone I was becoming. My waist was almost nonexistent, yet I was still functioning perfectly. No headaches or migraines like I breathed through since my thirteen birthday before I turned into this, a digitalised illusion forever typing and working.

I even sometimes got to speak when I was assigned a group, like a video game, my voice over was a mechanical one, but last month-I coordinated a couple missions using electronic aircraft and drones specified to my own sequence.

Just as I'm doing right now, electronically controlling an enlarged jet with coordination, playing soft music in the background, "Change flight plan to Paris, France coordinates. Initiate sequence now, Obsidian." I called the jet, voice control on the sequence. I watch it on the drone's camera as it moves.

Seconds quickened the hours, the only way I was able to see the sun, to see the outside and actually envision such a breeze against my hair or the smell of fresh rain on freshly cut grass...it was a taunting moment-several taunting moments that made me believe I really was...free. That I could feel the warmth of the sun against my face, it wasn't possible. Why wasn't it possible for me?

When I first got to play around with such a sequence, I was almost certain it was a complete joke.

Another taunting mechanism to get me to obey the monitor in the left hand corner of the room, beside the bed. It was never in the ceiling-when for months-I was certain it was. The jet arrived in Paris within just one hour after flying out from New York, where I knew I physically wasn't. I ran Washington DC's coordinates after using the 'globe' tool on the algorithm, the computer cancelled out.

It has never cancelled out or needed a rebut before, and that was all I needed to know I was in Washington DC. Narrowing out facilities in New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Los Angeles...Washington had the most advanced of technology by the looks of simple statistics online, once I'd tried out over a thousand different passwords on the internet icon, I found one...'The Monitor' and that ruled it out straight to an unlocked symbol on the screen and a clear opening straight to the Monitors internet access.

Washington was rumoured to be working on a number American military ops and pupils, individuals who wanted to be a part of the human trialing system, working under surveillance with drugs taken orally and injected straight into the bloodstream. Advanced medicinal products known to enhance certain abilities in the human genomes and DNA. Altering nucleotides and advancing their base pairings to something more sophisticated.

All in the casing of a pill.

I stood still, quiet after reading that analysis, that mythological analysis, to the wider world was supposedly impossible, and yet reality set in like a wintry slap in the face to me...I didn't volunteer to be in such trials, to be included into this, I was forced.

Tied down, cuffed against the wall when the ink was injected into my skin, Brandon it with a known mark as one of the trials, as the eleventh trial out of three hundred or so. For a week after learning what I was a part of-I was given time to absorb it. Feeling though I should still be irrationally screaming against the four grey cemented walls in the Monitor's clutches.