The rebel in me itched to defy the automaton until a humanoid showed her face. However, the penalty wasn’t worth the temporary high of asserting my own will. My skin crawled at the memory of the waspmice. Dark pock-like scars still marred my legs from last time. I clamored out of the DS and padded barefoot across the slick floor to the cleansing stations on the far side of the room.
The android, a bulky P-73, stalked behind, whining through its exhaust hose. It probably worried I would throw another fit or fall into hysterics. I was allowed to remember a few bits from day to day, like incidents of rebellion and punishments. With drugs and therapy, they attempted to erase the rest.
My skin crawled. I concentrated on unlatching the sealed door on the cleanser and climbing inside the chamber. A deep breath to brace myself and I pulled the panel closed. Alternating jets of tepid and steaming water blasted me from all angles. I ripped the rubber suction cells off my skin and threw them in the refuse slot. My temples throbbed where the probes had recently entered my skull. A light touch of my fingertips brought away blood. I wondered how many times had I stood here. I didn’t know. It was disconcerting to never remember one day to the next.
A pathetic sputter of water-flecked air constituted the cleanser’s attempt at drying my abused skin before a panel popped open with a belch of perfumed air. I coughed as I reached for the two-piece jumpsuit contained within. My arms executed the complicated movements of dressing myself without much direction from my thoughts. I knew I had been here long enough for this routine to become rote, unless, of course, I had worn clothing just like this before I came here. Or maybe I had always been here?
EXCHANGE
a short story
by Rachel Rossano
Available Now
Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Exchange-ebook/dp/B005PTXWDI
and
Other Retailers
Rachel Rossano - The Theodoric Saga Page 13
