Ramble

by D. B. Goodin

  Then the doors opened, and the officers rushed her through.

  “These people are really pissed! Who are they?” Alice asked with panic in her voice.

  “They are the survivors. The media is calling it the Great Blackout of 2071. Because of your actions, hundreds of people died, and it hurt thousands,” one officer said.

  Alice felt a wave of dread wash over her. She felt sick. Her legs gave way. The officers picked her up and dragged her through another set of doors that opened to a large area with many desks; there, more officers were talking to people on the phone or shuffling paper. She was dragged up to a podium; standing there was an older man with a sad look on his face. Alice looked at his badge: it had the number 0111. Tears rolled down Alice’s face.

  “I hope this sign of remorse is genuine,” the older officer said. “Maybe you’re not as much of a monster as people believe.”

  “I need to call my mother—can I make a call?” Alice pleaded.

  “I will permit you to make a call after we finish processing you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Alice said.

  “No need to call me sir. My name is Joe. Now put your hand on the scanner, please.”

  Alice reluctantly put her hand on the scanner sitting on the podium; her lip started quivering, and then her eyes overflowed with the sickening sorrow of confusion and regret.

  After she was fingerprinted and photographed, another officer led her to a small room with a single table with metal loops along the sides. The officer handcuffed her to a loop; it felt cold to the touch. The officer turned to leave.

  “Wait, are you going to give me a chair?” Alice asked.

  The officer stared back at her with cold, lifeless eyes for a moment before leaving the room.

  Alice remained standing in the featureless room—both hands handcuffed to a table—for a long, indeterminate amount of time. She could hear muted conversations outside the room; she tried to listen, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. A pain near her lower stomach area reminded Alice that she had not used the restroom since the previous night.

  If the guards don’t come soon, I’m going to piss myself.

  Moments later, the door opened. A man dressed in a cheap-looking suit entered. His curly hair was matted on his forehead. He looked like he’d just finished exercising.

  “Hello, my name is Mr. Jackson, your court-appointed attorney,” the man said as he dropped his tablet and a stack of papers on the opposite end of the table.

  “I have to use the restroom,” Alice said.

  The man looked annoyed, then got up and banged on the door.

  A female officer opened the door.

  “She needs to use the facilities,” Mr. Jackson said.

  The female officer nodded, then removed the handcuffs from Alice and the table before cuffing her again.

  “Wait, how am I going to use the restroom with these?” Alice said, holding up the handcuffs.

  The officer shrugged, then pushed her toward the door. Alice glimpsed at her badge, which had the numbers 0101.

  What’s with these police badges of zeros and ones? Alice thought. Seems strange.

  “What is your name?” Alice said.

  “You can call me Officer Jones,” the female officer said.

  Officer Jones escorted Alice down a narrow hallway. Alice noticed an “Out of Order” sign on the door marked “Ladies.” Jones pushed Alice toward another door at the end of the hallway. A wave of hot air enveloped her as the officer led her outside toward another building. She squinted her eyes in the late afternoon sun and looked around. The people who’d thrown the nasty items earlier were gone; just an empty courtyard between two buildings remained. She could see heaps of trash around the fences that separated the precinct from the street. A loudspeaker sounded in the distance. Alice also heard the yells and screams of many people.

  Is that the sound of an event? Maybe a concert? Alice thought. What’s going on?

  Officer Jones unlocked a door in a building across the courtyard and shoved her inside, following close behind.

  Alice found herself in a dimly lit hallway; it looked like the interior of an abandoned building. A light flickering from an overhead fixture made the brief hallway trip disorienting. Jones kept pushing Alice, who found it increasing difficult to even walk. She had not relieved herself all day, and it was getting painful to move, let alone walk.

  “Can you take these handcuffs off?” Alice said.

  Alice turned around when she didn’t get a response; strangely, she was now alone in the hallway.

  What . . . the . . . fuck?

  She continued down the dimly lit hallway, looking for the restroom. She finally found it at the end of the hall. The handcuffs made things difficult, but she managed to relieve herself, and felt so much better afterward. Alice was washing her hands when a grating in the ceiling came loose and swung open, clanking on a nearby wall.

  Alice jumped.

  Holy shit!

  Alice hurriedly left the restroom and called out for the officer.

  “Officer Jones? I’m ready to talk to my attorney now.”

  The building was silent, and she was still alone. In a daze over the strange circumstances, Alice peered into another room she hadn’t noticed on the way to the bathroom. Its door was missing, so she decided to enter and explore to look for clues to understand where the hell she was. The lights were off in the room, but there was just enough light coming in from the hallway to see some objects like desks and chairs. Then—movement.

  “Hello?” Alice said.

  A whirring sound emitted from the darkness; it was getting louder and appeared to be heading in her direction. Then something flickered in the darkness. She thought she saw something floating nearby. Alice took a few steps back into the hallway, then slammed into something cold. She turned to see a gigantic robot. It was unlike anything she’d seen before. She estimated that the thing must have been at least seven feet tall, and in the dim light, it looked almost human. A telescopic neck appeared where a human head should have been. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like a severed human head was attached to the end of the long neck. Alice continued backing up until her back was against the wall. The robot cornered her, and when she tried to move away, one of the robot’s metal arms extended toward her. At the end of the arm was a piece of metal with four or five metal tines sticking out; it looked like a hand. A blade protracted out of the hand, then jabbed at her. She dodged the blade as it came close to poking her in the eye.

  “You will comply,” the robot said.

  “The hell I will,” Alice said, evading another jab from the robot.

  Two additional arms extruded from the robot’s back; Alice noticed even more glinting blades extruding from the hands. She stepped back, trying to avoid more stabs from the robot. She managed to escape its shadow and run toward what she hoped was an exit.

  She was almost at the end of the hall when a small robot came from a side room; this one was about the size of a trash can. She tried to walk around it, but it blocked her path and rammed its body into her leg.

  “Ouch!” she cried.

  Alice looked behind her, and the tall telescopic robot was closing the distance; that’s when she noticed a floating sphere that seemed to guide it. She tried jumping over the trash-can-like robot but tripped and fell. She staggered to her feet. Blue lights shone from the bottom of the trash-can robot, and then an arc of electricity extended from it and hit her leg. White-hot pain coursed through her; her leg felt numb, but she could walk on it a little.

  Alice hobbled to the door, panting with fear. She tried opening the door, but the handcuffs and her sweaty palms made it difficult. She managed to open it, then slammed it behind her; Alice felt a heavy thump as the robots slammed against the door. She turned to find Jones standing nearby with an old flip phone in her hand. It looked like she was about to make a call.

  “Where have you been?” Jones asked.

  “Robots . . . are try
ing to hurt me!” Alice said, shaking with fear.

  “Bullshit,” Jones said, opening the door.

  Alice held her breath and readied herself.

  Jones stepped inside the darkened hallway and looked around for a moment before turning back toward Alice.

  “See? There’s nothing in there,” the officer said as she flashed a light into the darkened hallway.

  “They must have fled into a side room when you opened the door,” Alice insisted. Officer Jones didn’t seem to care.

  Several minutes later, Jones led Alice into another building behind the main precinct. It seemed deserted, but she followed the officer into a well-lit area with showers. Jones removed the handcuffs.

  “Get cleaned up, and put these on,” Jones said.

  Alice looked at the bundle the officer gave her. All the clothes were white.

  “I will be outside when you’re ready,” Jones said.

  Alice put the bundle on an empty chair near the shower’s entrance. She removed her filthy clothes and put them in a corner. Her skin and hair were still covered with several unidentifiable substances that smelled like a combination of rotten eggs, spoiled milk, and tomatoes. She adjusted the water until it was hot; she was eager to wipe away the filth of the day’s traumas. After her shower, she put on the loose-fitting top, pants, and white sneakers and socks.

  What’s with all the white clothes? I thought prisoners wore orange . . .

  Officer Jones was waiting for her outside.

  “I’m starving—when is dinner?” Alice said.

  “Soon,” Jones said as she put the handcuffs back on Alice.

  Jones took Alice by the arm and led her toward a staircase. After descending at least two sublevels, Alice entered a hallway with doors on either side. About halfway down the hallway, Officer Jones opened a door on the left side, then shoved Alice into it. Alice looked around the cell as Officer Jones removed the handcuffs. The room was eight feet by eight feet and contained a single bed. No windows, toilet, sink, or anything else except the stark-white walls, bright overhead light, and her bed.

  “Food?” Alice asked again.

  “Someone will be by,” Jones said.

  “What about my attorney—?”

  The door slammed shut.

  4

  Alice was sitting on the bed in the white room. She had lost sense of time—but she was starving. She knocked on the door.

  “Hello! Is there anyone there? I’m hungry,” she said.

  Thoughts began racing through her mind.

  Is anyone coming back?

  How long have I been here?

  It feels like it’s been a very long time.

  Silence.

  Sometime later—Alice didn’t know how long—the door opened. It was Officer Jones; she just stood in the doorway staring at Alice with a blank gaze. Alice got up and headed for the door.

  “Is it time for dinner?” Alice said.

  Jones put up a hand. “Stop—you have a visitor.”

  Who knows I’m here?

  Brenton Morris entered the white room. He was wearing a white suit and had a white gift bag in his hands. He remained motionless for a moment, like a robot. Then he smiled at her.

  “What is he doing here? Where’s my attorney?” Alice said to Jones.

  Jones closed the door without another word.

  “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Is this some sick joke? What are you doing here, anyway?” Alice asked.

  Brenton ignored the questions.

  “Say something!” Alice demanded.

  He stood motionless for several more moments.

  “Have you considered my offer?” he said at last. “It’s not too late!”

  “To tell you the truth, I haven’t even thought about it.”

  “A pity,” Brenton said as he took out her visor from the white gift bag.

  Alice reached for the visor, and to her surprise, Brenton handed it to her.

  “Consider this a gesture of good will. I will let you have Doris for five minutes. You won’t be able to contact anyone. Doris has been awake and knows about recent events.

  Keeping her wary eyes on Brenton, Alice put on her visor.

  “Doris, are you there?” she said.

  “Where have you been, Alice?” Doris responded.

  “I wish I could say for certain, but I’m in jail, somewhere in Central Park.”

  “There’s no jail in Central Park, silly,” Doris said.

  Alice was confused, but she had no time to lose. “Never mind that. What has been happening in New York since I’ve been away?”

  “MuseFam has launched Gwen, a new artificial intelligence to help the world.”

  “Help with what?”

  “They will integrate Gwen into every new visor and will collect information to help people. Humans won’t have to fret over decisions like buying milk or ordering enough cat food ever again. Gwen will arrange everything. If they get bored, then Gwen will suggest a playlist or an interesting activity,” Doris explained.

  “What? That sounds terrible.”

  “Not as bad as what’s going to happen to you, Alice,” Doris said in a menacing tone.

  “What are you talking about, Doris?”

  “You have less than a minute left. Are you sure you want to waste it on this question?”

  Shit.

  “Do I have any messages?” Alice asked.

  “You have thirty-five unread messages. Would you like for me to play one for you?”

  “No, just list them.”

  Doris listed the messages so fast that Alice could only make out two names: her friend Lindsey, and her Purist ally, Nigel.

  “Play the message from Lindsey,” Alice said.

  “Alice,” Lindsey’s message began, “the nurse said you checked out of the hospital, where are—”

  “Time is up,” Doris interrupted.

  Alice took off the visor, and she intended to give Brenton a piece of her mind, but he wasn’t there. Then the visor evaporated from her hands like it had never existed. She looked around. It was just her and her assigned bed.

  Am I dreaming?

  She looked down at her feet.

  I don’t think so . . . I’m standing!

  The door opened again, and someone shoved a tray into the room. A pang of hunger made her mouth water as she smelled the food. She drove toward the tray, ripped off the plastic wrap, and examined the contents, which included white rice, white bread, and white chicken meat. A white plastic bottle accompanied the food.

  No utensils?

  She picked up the chicken in her bare hands. It was cold. She bit into it. After a few bites, she realized the chicken, although cooked, had been frozen and was only partially thawed. She picked up some rice; it was warm to the touch. Alice shoved a handful into her mouth. When she finished the rice, she ate the bread. Then she opened the bottle of water and drank it in a few gulps. A sharp pain shot through her side.

  Did I eat too fast or something?

  The pain intensified. She dropped the bottle and staggered over to the bed. She lay down and closed her eyes, hoping the pain would go away.

  Alice awoke to the sound of her cell door opening. She opened her eyes; the bright white light was blinding. She squinted to see who was there.

  “Who is it?” a voice said.

  Who said that? Alice wondered.

  There was no reply.

  “Jones, is that you? I have to use the toilet again,” Alice said.

  A figure appeared. Her vision still wasn’t adjusting to the light; it was filled with floating dark specks. She could only see silhouettes of figures. She felt someone take her arm and lead her out of the cell. The hall they entered was cooler, and the lights were softer.

  “This way,” a woman’s voice said: the person holding onto her arm.

  Moments later, as they walked down the hall, Alice’s vision improved. Everything was white. Alice touched one of the walls, and it was sticky.
She pressed harder; her finger slipped across something on the wall. She examined her finger; it was covered in a white slime.

  “Alice, the bathroom is this way,” the woman said, still at her side.

  Even though Alice could see the hallway, the floor, and the ceiling clearly, she could not make out the figure of the woman who sounded so familiar; she was just a blur. Alice allowed herself to be led down the hallway.

  She was led into a small bathroom. Everything was bright white. Alice turned to face the person leading her; finally, she could see her face. It was Jones, and not only was she dressed completely in white, but her hair, lipstick, and fingernails were also all white.

  “We are sisters now,” Jones said as she touched Alice’s hair.

  Alice gazed into the mirror; she couldn’t breathe. Her hair was white. Then her vision blurred as her throat clenched. She became lightheaded and fell to the floor.

  Alice awoke. She was still in the bright white bathroom.

  How long was I out?

  She pulled herself up and looked into the mirror again. She didn’t recognize the person she saw. Someone had dyed her hair, painted her nails, and bleached her eyebrows white.

  She finished in the bathroom, then stepped back into the hallway. However, the hallway had changed; she was no longer in the hallway she’d been in earlier. This passageway was curved, and the walls moved as if they were breathing. It looked alive.

  “There you are. You’re late for dinner,” Jones said, appearing at her side.

  “Where am I?” Alice asked, trembling.

  “At the institute. We are trying to get you to feel better. You have been asleep for far too long,” Jones said. She began leading Alice down the hall.

  Then Alice nearly stumbled on something; she looked down and saw a white cat. It lifted its paw toward her. She noticed that something was attached to the cat’s stomach. It was a clear tube that ran from the cat into the wall. Some liquid was visible in the tube.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Alice asked Jones.

  “You don’t recognize your own pet? It’s Alfred,” Jones said.

  “That can’t be—Alfred’s with Lindsey.”