The Lost

The Curator

Annabeth stopped her bike. She had just been on the highway, and now she appeared to be in a room of some kind. She tried to open her spatial storage, and she got a message: Access Denied.

Annabeth blinked, taken aback by this message. She tried again.

'Access Denied, please wait while the curator is alerted for assistance.'

She heard a chime, and she looked up, noticing a green light had turned on. Deciding to try and figure out what she could do, she tried starting her bike, and it wouldn't turn over. "Well, i'm not going anywhere." She sighed, and looked around, the walls were white, and the lights were soft.

She couldn't open her storage, and she was being prevented from leaving. She searched her computer matrix, and warning flashes were all over the place.

She kept getting a message. The same thing repeating over and over: 'Access Denied.'

She was getting worried now. With access to nothing she could use for help, she thought of a chair, and one came out of the floor. She sat and she waited. She waited for what seemed like hours before a door on the other end of the room opened. And the Curator walked in.

The curator was standing at an unimpressive four foot nothing. She stared in disbelief and jumped when he spoke. The voice was deep, something you would expect from someone who towered over six feet in height.

"It would seem you have accessed a project your body was not meant to sustain. You were not due for a checkup for several more years. Given the state of your internal systems, and the remainder of your human components. You shouldn't be functional."

Annabeth was shocked. "H-how did you..."

"Have access to your systems? We are your original creators."

Annabeth's mouth fell open, her blue eyes turned an almost opaque color as she lost the ability to move on her own. The curator smiled and walked forward the rest of the way.

"It was a challenge for us, recreating you and making you whole again after your accident. Replacing a broken or missing limb is easy, reconstructing 60% of you took us a lot of time. Now, your memories... those are a problem to us. But we have seen what has transpired, and we have deemed it safe for you to keep these memories. However, if you are to survive using project D-3 in the future, we must make some modifications to you."

Annabeth was scared. She couldn't respond. She couldn't move. She wanted to ask questions. But it seemed like the Curator wasn't going to take 'no' as an answer, no matter how much she complained. She sighed, and hoped her memories would remain the same indeed, she still had people to bury.