lies... lies... all lies... You've killed before right?
Giggles bounce off walls.
...My Angel got through the door She's a spy... you can't see me. where's the exit Freak...
Whispers.
...open your eyes close your mouth listen...
Smiles.
YOU KILLED HER do you know me Classified as a Human...
...Freak saw you do it where's the harm in a little? Damper on our power...
They grimace with teeth of broken mirrors.
RIGHT NOW ride the Beast share the mind what are you STUPID?
Tell me you love me.
And they laugh.
the least of my worries can I try? Fresh Meat. boiling get away from the windows
Hard.
dirty water dirty water dirty water dirty water clean hands
The inner voice.
CONSUME.
She smiles and looks at the walls.
They dance for her.
Little droplets of dirty water.
And the Freak sways to their music.
CONSUME.
BREAK
It's the heat that seeps in through the air and fries the prisoners' skin as they slave away at their daily laboring; it comes to the point where they can't distinguish between the steam in the air and the sweat on their face.
But they continue their task; if they don't, the heat will be the pain they would miss the most.
"Take it down and get an empty one."
A sharp screech punches the air as the wheels slowly began turning. The weight of the cart slowly gains momentum as Gray guides it down an empty aisle in the back of the room. He glides along the wall, hidden behind the dull roar of running water and the buzz of a hundred simultaneous conversations; in the distance, masses of inmates laugh at jeers and insults and jokes that weren't funny...
"...like me 'n yo Mom."
"...The pizza can feed a family!"
"...the nun walks in, sees him holding the banana between his legs, and says..."
"...I never heard a man talk so high-pitched after that!"
The cart advances gradually towards a large opening in the wall, roughly the size of two side-by-side pickup trucks. Gray crosses the threshold with the pile of steaming cloth rolling steadily in front of him.
"Leave it here."
The large cart rolls forward, slowly losing momentum until reaching a complete stop next to a number of identical ones; each waits in a wide line, adding to the collective steam that rose from the herd and fills the room. On the receiving end, four prisoners dig their hands furiously into the nearest pile of clothes and shovel barehanded through a large circular entry.
He walks back through a cloud with another cart―empty this time―and reaches his early position next to the stone-faced Android; a cart rests beside him, already three-quarters full with orange clothes.
"The cycle continues," Cy comments without turning his head.
Gray stands listlessly as he rolls the empty cart away so it can be used next. Cy quickly dumps pieces of the load as the level of the cart slowly grows. Around him, eleven inmates mirror his exact motions, waiting impatiently for the next trip across the heat of monotony.
"Everybody's in for life..."
It is more of a statement than a question.
The Android nods in response. "They only send you to the Big House if you have a life sentence or death sentence..."
Crude laughter echoes in the background.
"...And, in the end, everyone gets a death sentence."
The weak whine of the rolling wheels gives a reply as Gray slowly leads the full cart along the back walls.
Above the bustling anthill, privy eyes kept close vigilance on the group. Every look, every movement, every breath is monitored closely. Hidden in the shadows of the catwalk and under a thick cloud of steam, fingers rest on triggers in eager anticipation of the next link that will break in the chain of labor.
Nobody looks up; they know what awaits them: silhouettes of Law, armed to the teeth for brutality. And nobody wants to be the next on the roster of fallen scum.
Time passes slowly.
"...you put 'em in the ashtray!"
"...you an' me gonna spend some quality time together."
"...let me go get my wife!"
It creeps by like the sweat on the prisoners' faces, hitting snags and almost stopping completely at times. There are no clocks to count the passing minutes, no windows low enough to see the position of the sun, no visible indication that the outside world even continues to exist.
So they kept pushing.
They continue until they are told to stop.
"Everybody. Including you?"
The Android turns to the Boy and answers nonchalantly, "Including me. Except that the law becomes kinda fuzzy when it comes to killing things that aren't legally alive."
Gray walks the cart along the back and returns with another empty one.
"Any day, I suspect they'll pull a shotgun out and give me two to the head," he continues, picking up large piles of steaming orange clothes from a moving conveyor belt and placing them in the empty cart. "That'll clear the whole mess up."
Gray just grips the handles of the cull cart and pushes it away, leaving in silence. As he strolls along the usual path, his eyes move over the varied faces in the crowd. Lying eyes, devious smiles, ugly faces; nothing in the remaining room shows what he needs. His gaze wanders higher underneath downcast eyebrows; through darkness he spots the vigilant specters.
Breastplates. Helmets. Facemasks. Shoulder, forearm, thigh, knee, and rear armor pieces. They wear protection everywhere. Everywhere except...
The squeaking wheels come to a rest. The Boy lets out a soft laugh. He returns his glance to the people around him, holding on to the small smile on his face.
Near him, a small bald boy fidgets nervously with clothes, muttering repeated curses under his breath.
A black girl fiercely tears clothes off of the conveyor belt into a pile beside her.
"No." Gray shakes his head. He weaves through the maze of inmate work stations, running mental diagnostics on every perceived being around him. "No."
Returning again to the original station, his lips parts slightly. "When exactly does—"
A piercing whistle cuts through the noise in the air like a flaming sword, pausing conversations, stopping activity, and stealing attention. The Miners threw the last of the clothes into the carts as the Pushers lead the final load to the end of the room.
"OUT!"
Bodies press forward in dull murmur through large doors held open by three guards. Arrhythmic footsteps lead the escape of the unearthly heat through a wide corridor as the prisoners trudge into the passageway, flanked down the length by guns.
The Young Guard stands on one side while the other two held the opposite door. His fingers move absentmindedly around the ring on his fourth finger as he watches the inmates file past.
"Ooof!" His train of thought is interrupted as a prisoner falls on him and hits the floor. The Young Guard moves back as the inmate crawls back to his feet.
"Emsorrysir..." the inmate mumbles as he back away into the crowd.
The guard stares at the prisoner as he walks past and out the door. He raises a hand and wipes away the sweat from his brow. "Don't let it happen again."
The last of the prisoners leave the room and the Young Guard steps forward, letting the door snap shut behind him.
"Ey, are you gonna sign today?" one of the other guards asked.
The guard reaches for his breast pocket. Feeling thin cloth, he reaches in his pant pockets. He feels along his jacket and shakes his head.
"Nah, you take care of it. I'll do it tomorrow."
The padlock slides over the door handle and clicks shut. The guards turns and follows the line in the rear...
After a minute of walking, the mass arrives to a larger room with several branching hallways on the sides.
"That corridor."
Cy turns in the direction of Gray's finger.
"Administration. The Warden's office is down there..." He turns to Gray. "Why?"
"No reason."
He faces forward and lightly grips the pen in his pant pockets.
"No reason at all."
BREAK
"She's not responding well."
Silence.
"She's not responding at all." He pauses. "Insane..."
"No," the first voice responds. "No, she's still in there. She knows everything that's going on."
The second figure stares through thick glasses.
"I don't know; it's been one hundred forty-six seconds since she last blinked."
Silence.
"She must be inside It's head. Who knows what they're doing..."
A long silence follows.
The two men shuffle papers on their clipboards and take their gaze away from the sitting girl on the floor.
They murmur among themselves.
She blinks.
They continue conversing.
The Freak tips back and falls on her back. Her head hits the floor and a dull thud echoes through the white room.
"She's losing it."
The first one nods. "It's only a matter of time before they find a reason to take her out."
"I hope they do. Soon."
Her eyes are blank.
Cold.
Emotionless.
Dead.
Suddenly, the Freak's eyes turn upward from the floor towards the two voices.
They leak ecstasy.
"You know they can't chart her?"
"Figures."
A long pause.
The first man drops his clipboard.
"I'm gonna kill her right now."
The second one shakes his head while staring at the papers in his hand. "Don't waiste your tame."
He takes a step forward. "Gahdommit, I have to do it, right noww."
The second man looks up. "Caalm doownn."
His eyes flare.
"Vuuck yoo. I'mm dooin iitt."
He moves towards the body in the center of the room and the first man grabs him by the shoulder. He's waiting for it; the angry second man swings his elbow at the first's face.
It connects and the first man reels back.
His wild eyes sit above a thin smear of blood from his nose. He reaches up and wipes a small bit from his upper lip.
"YUO VUKING BAASTERD!"
He charges forward and tackles the second man straight in the gut; they fall gracefully through the air and hit the floor with a sickening SQUISH.
Instantly, they burst into millions of dirty droplets and fly into the air, reaching the ceiling and hanging suspended in time.
Hold.
Hold.
Hold.
They plunge straight down.
Violet eyes follow each one.
They grow long and thin like hot daggers hurtling towards the sprawled girl on the floor.
Violet eyes.
They reach the Freak.
Blink.
And like that... they disappear.
Fade.
Dissolve.
Vanish.
The Freak laughs aloud.
Because she knows nothing was ever there to begin with.
CONSUME.