Solar Flare
Numbers.
Hundreds.
Thousands of them.
They run through her head, a current of glowing digits. Calculations brush against her eyelids, algorithms twist lazily around her fingers. She hears her voice. A single, pale murmur against the riptide of numerals.
"…76…80…"
It makes no sense to the Controller. The sequence dances in front of her empty eyes, blinding her to everything else. Left, right, left, right. A never-ending string of numbers, forming an impervious wall.
Drowning out everything for the presence of her masters.
They appear amongst the rush of symbols, four pillars of glittering malevolence. The eyepieces shimmer with the same ethereal blue as her wires. She can feel them, seeping into her consciousness.
"The fleet is nearing completion." The metallic voices are grating behind her eyes. "You are to monitor the activities of the humans until we can descend upon the Earth."
"Yes, my Masters." The whispery voice from her cracked lips is a brittle reed against the steely tones of the Daleks. "1…5…17…"
"Cease! We will transmit your next orders by cranial wire. Obey them as they are received."
"I will, my Masters. 1…10…101…"
"I ordered you to cease! You will obey! O-BEY! O-BEY!"
"Forgive me, Masters—Delta Solar flare, three minutes."
"Solar flare?"
"Delta point one five, my masters. Delta point one five solar flare activity commencing. "
"No! We are not fi—"
"Solar flares active! Three…two…one…"
With a whoosh, the Game Station's engines power down. The glow of the wires fades into nonexistence. The Controller blinks, her vision completely free of the numbers. For now.
The wires are attached specifically to prevent excessive movement. Only the sway of the carried information will allow her to move without pain. As the flare cuts off that flow, the most the Controller may move is her eyes.
Years of being wired to the system, seeing only numbers. Her vision is failing fast, leaving her eyes the blue-white color of fish scales. It is as if the loss of her sight has drained her eye color and placed it into the emergency lighting, the one thing she can see and know what exactly what it is.
Several figures are moving in the space beyond. She cannot focus on them. The lighting is far too dim. The Controller knows very well who they are; employees of the Game Station. The managers. Her pawns.
She keeps quiet, resting in her web of wires and implants. For a few minutes, the Controller's thoughts are blessedly hers. Nothing is beyond her at this moment, save detaching herself. Even simply indulging herself by listening to the conversation is not out of reach. This she does, maintaining every appearance of unconsciousness.
This is as close to true bliss as the Controller will ever get.
It does not last, however. She finds herself crying out in anguish all of a sudden as the numbers rocket back into her head. The Game Station powers up again. Its mistress and its slave stands bolt upright, the glowing wires protruding from her head and chest like some sort of grisly aura. And barely a moment later, it begins again.
"…7…6…5…4…3…"