The Manufactured
- Reads 77
- Votes 11
- Parts 4
Ongoing11m
Last published Thu, Mar 29, 2018
"Manufacturing is more than just putting parts together. It's coming up with ideas, testing principles, and perfecting engineering, as well as final assembly."
-James Dyson
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Her mission was to escape, not to fall in love, especially at a time like this. Survival was supposed to be her first priority, yet she found herself more worried about him. She didn't know why she cared so much about him, he wasn't even the same race as her. Even if he was manufactured also, he was still a burden and the last thing she needed was a burden dragging her back. So why'd she let him?
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"The Manufactured are a variety of different races that the government has made. Cyborgs, Vampires, Werewolves, elves, and everything in between. You were chosen by the government to be manufactured. It's an gift that you should accept. I-"I interrupt her.
"Gift that we should accept? I was kidnaped and tested on like a lab rat, yet you think I should accept it? What kind of bullshit gift is this?"I rage.
"Yes, you should always accept your gift. Even if you don't like it. Now, off to bed,"she finalizes.
I glare at her and head back to my 'bed'.
"I'll get out of here one day, and I will get my revenge,"I whisper to myself.
"You sure about that?"a male voice asks.
I look up. Oh!
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Elodie's life changes at the turn of a doorknob when she is forced into joining a secret organization that claims to be protecting the Earth from aliens. But with every step she takes, she finds the organization, or the facility, as they call it, becoming more and more suspicious. When a mysterious death occurs, revealing a well-concealed secret, things quickly go downhill as humanity's future is placed on the shoulders of a single gaggle of teenagers. *** I hear a sigh from the other side of the door, "Miss. Chaucer, you have a wonderful opportunity here, are you going to take it or not?" Now, I am seriously confused, "Opportunity?" She takes advantage of my befuddled state and shoves the door open. Shit. The corners of her mouth pull up, and it's so unnatural, it takes me a moment to realize she's smiling. Major plastic surgery? Probably. Click. Did she just lock the door? She locked the door! I spring towards the house phone, dusty from years of doing absolutely nothing, so I can call the police. I don't make it. Halfway there, I trip on my own pant-leg and face plant on the floor. The woman steps over me and retrieves the phone. She looks at it as if it's a foreign object, "This won't be necessary. All I want to do is talk to you." For some reason, instead of screaming, I stay silent. She smiles and pulls out a chair from the kitchen table for me to sit on. When I don't sit, she says, "If you want to know what's going on, then sit." I think about it for a moment. She hasn't hurt me yet, and I have to admit, I am quite curious as to what's going on. So, call me stupid, but I sit down. "I am from a space organization that protects civilians from . . . outside threats." *** Beautiful cover made by @mahana258! HR: 203 in science fiction (5/8/18) Completed on August 15th, 2018 (Indian independence day!) *******This is not a zombie novel
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