Max squinted her eyes

Max squinted her eyes. They refused to focus. I'm gonna be late for work. Normal's gonna kill me… Max's thoughts scattered. She vaguely felt the sensation of laying on the floor. Am I hung over? I don't remember… Max tried to open her eyes again. Then suddenly, everything slammed back to her. She rolled onto her back and struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. Her skin scraped against cold concrete. She took stock of her surroundings, the tiny cell. It didn't take long. She dropped back onto the floor and a moan slipped out. Her body ached. She glanced at her watch. It was late. Was it the same day? She couldn't be sure.

A guard, drawn by the sound of her moan, glanced into the cell. He unclipped a radio from his belt and mumbled something incomprehensible to Max. Whoever was on the other end said something back, but to Max, it was mostly static. The guard spoke again, then returned the radio to his belt and pulled of a ring of keys. He unlocked to door, strode purposely over to Max, and roughly pulled her off the floor.

"Come on," he said commandingly.

Max quickly tried to form a plan in her head, to try and beat the guard, escape. She felt her knees start to give out. The guard held her up by her arm. Shit.Max thought. This is it. This is what it's all going to come to. She looked at the guard. He was all of twenty, with dark hair and dark eyes. He has nice eyes, she thought. The guard's eyes darted away, the returned to her. His countenance softened visibly.

"You okay?" he asked, more gently.

"What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay' You don't seem…"

"Well, one could imagine."

"I'm sorry. I mean… Can you stand up?"

"I think so," Max said. She could feel her balance beginning to return.

"Um, could you put your hands…um, back?" He almost seemed embarrassed.

Max sighed and moved her arms back. A pain lighted down her back. She flinched slightly. The guard carefully clicked handcuffs over her wrists.

"Too tight? Is your back okay?"

Max shook her head.

"Here, come on." He held her carefully by the arm and gently nudged her down the hall.

"So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Max asked.

"What?"

"This doesn't really seem your speed - the whole 'army guy' thing."

"No. Just like everybody else - trying to pay the bills. I really wanted to go to college, but I don't know… You know, the military will give…"

"So what's your name?" The guard hesitated. "I'm Max."

"Christian. Well, Chris." He dipped to catch her as she stumbled. "You okay? You've got so many tranqs running through you, no wonder…"

"Yeah."

"How 'bout you?"

"Huh?"

"Why do they want you? What did you do?"

"I was born," Max spat, bitterly.

Chris fell silent.

"Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"There's a guy who wants to see you."

They walked through the winding concrete halls. Chris swiped a keycard clipped to his belt, opening doors and more doors. They entered a wing that seemed much less institutional, more of an office. It had burgundy carpet. It was really nice carpet, Max decided.

"Who picks the carpet?"

"What?" Chris glanced at Max, confused.

"I mean, they build this huge facility, for all these people, to do all this other stuff to other people. Who thinks about carpet?"

"Um… I don't know?"

"Well, I didn't really mean it. I mean, it just sort of came into my head. I feel… a little random."

"I see. Don't worry, it'll wear off."

They walked in silence a bit longer, then Chris stopped and rapped on a door.

"Come in."

Chris let go of Max's arm, and opened the door. She watched his composure stiffen again, every bit the soldier. Amazing. It was a nice office. It could have been any office, at any company. Except there, behind the desk, sat Donald Lydecker. His eyes met hers.

"Welcome home, Max."