Log File: Negative Two
I knew very well that my freedom, or whatever I could call my current state, was not an accident, but rather a very meticulous plan that maybe I crafted. Yet, I was not the one to put it into action. There were too many coincidences and small details that I could not control and were very important to the overall completion of my whole scheme. I probably had an ally, but whoever that was, I needed to find him, her, or it. Living things were a common reality, talking animals, sentient plugs terminals, the list of what I had already seen could go on and on. Not every one of them were friendly, but at least I got a very good idea of what to expect.
Most cities had become elaborate facilities encompassing several hundred buildings where “people” performed a number of repetitive tasks. I know that holds no difference from what happened in the past, but at some point humans became just disposable work force and something else gained control over the world. People were cloned, grown, fed with pellets and drugs, used until their body collapsed and then reduced to prime material. It was a little different for the ones that had not been born in a beaker. We were weakened, subjugated and then sent to do the same as the other lab rats. However, some of us had still memories lingering around and we felt something, like a delicate vase falling slowly and always out of reach, fearing it would shatter because we knew there would no way to put it together again.
There are easily thousands like me. Either freed by their own means or through the help of others, it did not matter, either way we could roam around and do whatever we pleased until death found us somehow. More often than not it came from the needles. Even that kind of addiction was their doing; the men with blue ties gave many of us the needles, the substances, even a detailed description of what would do once you put it in your veins. No subtlety whatsoever, just a cynic reminder of what they did to us. Many fell for this, like the ones I saw yesterday. I suppose that self-destructive illusion is better than witnessing what had become of us. I cling to this log to preserve my sanity, still unsure of how much of it is left and how much will it last.
I pray for it to last. Problem is, I know not if there is anyone that would ever hear my prayers.
Log File: Negative Three.
I could sleep effortlessly again. Despite the lack of any type of bedding, I found it easy to fall asleep and wake up with something resembling a clear mind. Perhaps all that time as a drone I did not really sleep, but merely entered into a drug-induced stand-by state. That would explain why they look so worn out, like crude rag dolls about to fall apart. Still, the substance that returned me to a more lively state would never work on them. They are by far too frail to withstand the change and get a chance to even breathe before the sudden shock renders them inanimate. It does not matter, they do not have really anything to come back to. All I can guess is that we are cheaper to produce than machinery. And even easier to replace.
I met two blue ties today. Quite pragmatic, but little else than a rather unused control tools. They were human too, but reached a sort of agreement to perform a guard task so they could keep all others in check, including the likes of me. It was easy, as far as they were concerned; first the needles, then the warnings and finally time to be turned into something useful through whatever means you had pushed them to use. We were not rebels, survivors, or a failure in their plans. We merely were, and they left us to live as long as were did not try to disrupt anything or do something we could end up regretting.
And then I found something that somehow brought a smile to my face and a shiver to my spine. An old symbol, carved in a wall with little skill, but still garnering the horrors it had summoned in the past. I thought myself happy to remember, but could not see why such a thing would survive the downfall of our race, while more elaborate groups and faiths had completely disappeared. Maybe I just had to discover some more of this world. Maybe things have changed and what they try to control is not us, but our ability to believe and bring to life things beyond the scopes of reason. I sure wish that thought had a grain of truth, but faith and machines were usually not seen wandering together down the same road. I guess it would be foolish, but I held onto the idea that perhaps there was some truth to old beliefs.
So, from the inner dialogue of my escaping sanity I had to step out to welcome a part of reality I knew well. I saw a man carrying a bloodied knife running away from several blue ties, too far from me to notice what really happened. So, I cannot deny there is a part of me that feels that the core of what our world used to be has not changed. Something boils down beneath the sleepy eyelids of a thinking machine and I suddenly feel the urge to be part of it. To believe, reach for the impossible and do the unthinkable so the unspeakable can find its way in the dark. So much for a man that maybe made the wrong thing at the worst possible time. I guess I needed an excuse to let my imagination go wild. The symbol, however, is still there, somehow beckoning, calling something inside of me I did not even reckon to exist.
My short awakening has already spawned too many questions, and I feel the need to start working on obtaining the answers. I know it will take a while before I can get a grasp of what this is all about, but without chains to stop me, I am more than willing to find the sleeping place of all secrets. I will remember this carving as, maybe, the wickedest answer to my prayers. An answer that I wish and dread to be real.
Woo! Another chapter of my sci-fi series. I hope you like it! Don’t forget to leave your comments and stay tuned for more stories!