ethanride (ethanride) wrote,

Paranoid Android


When they said she was gone, I couldn’t believe it.

The doctor said to not get out of the bed.

Coughing myself as my body protested my movements, I got myself up and struggled my way to the door, leaning on the wall and dragging myself across the room, dragging myself past the worried nurses and yelling doctors, the beeping of the life alarm triggered as I ripped the monitor dots off from my chest and arms.

My insides screamed, my eyesight blurred, and my body barely held itself up.

Yet, I still wanted to go.

I wanted to confirm everything by myself.

Because hearing it from others just sounded so fake.

Struggling out of the door, myself in so much pain that even breathing hurt, I felt my legs give up and my body fall, thud, hard, crashing on the floor.

The tiles felt warm as I lay on it. Helpless.

I felt so alone.

They told me that the building she was in was bombed, and that everyone in there protecting her had been shot. They weren’t sure if she died in the attack, and they wouldn’t be sure either until they’ve cleared out all the debris and checked out all the charred bodies that were in the area.

Rob was pretty sure she wasn’t, he said that it would be sort of retarded to just destroy all that data they had within her.

I wasn’t awake enough to hear the rest.

After the attempted escape from the hospital, the doctors kept me sedated day and night, the blue-uniformed nurse coming in once in a while to push the little syringe needle into the dripper, watching the clear liquid mix in and flow down towards my blood vessels, my life stream.

Something felt missing already.

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I was sedated, the only checkpoints in time being the visits I barely remember from Rob, as I lay there, feeling lifeless, feeling worthless.

“How long has it been since last visit?” I’d slur my words out, drunk, eyes barely opening their lids.

“Two weeks?” Rob would think about it for a while before he replied, rubbing his growing beard as he did so.

And all I could do was nod.

Watching him stare at me, I would ask “Did you find her?”

And he would just shake his head, slowly.

And then I’d sleep.

Muddled in dreams that made no sense.

This had become the sad reality I was stuck in.

That is, until one night.

When he came.

When I saw him there.

Standing by the window sill, the moonlight hiding his silhouette, the soft breeze greeting his entrance, he stared at me with his eyes unseen.

And all I could think of was that this was another dream of mine.

Yet it wasn’t.

He walked slowly, stiff, firm and sure that there was nothing of threat around here.

And he was right, of course. The guards had all gone away a few days after Echo’s building had been attacked and bombed, the nurses were maybe doing their night patrols somewhere in another ward, and who the hell knows what the doctors were doing this late at night.

That pretty much left me alone with my surprise visitor.

Walking slowly around the bed, staring at me intently, he slowly approached me.

And me, barely trying to keep myself awake, because it was just ‘oh, so hard’ with all the drugs and sedatives they’ve been pumping into me.

And maybe he knew this, I don’t know, but a smile did start to rise from his lips as soon as he saw how out of it I was.

Barely able to talk, my lips numb and unwilling to move, I struggled out a “Wha…” before the voice box just collapsed completely.

Smiling at that lame attempt at talking, the visitor came closer still, leaning towards my face as if to examine it, the way doctors do with their minty-smoky breaths.

“I’m sorry you have to be in such a state.” The man said, his voice low, deep, and mixed with some kind of echo I couldn’t quite catch.

He paused as if awaiting a reply, but he should have known better than that, because I just couldn’t do no reply.

After a few long seconds or so, he continued. “I’m sure you know who I am, don’t you?”

Seriously, I didn’t, but I could have given it a guess.

Smiling at my reaction, or lack thereof, he asked “Where is your little girlfriend at?”

He said “It’ll save us both a lot of time if you would just tell me about it.”

Trying to speak, but unable to, all I could do was just moan a confused reply, a surprised ‘uh?’ at him.

Staring intently at my expressions, as if reading me, he just shrugged “Alright, later then.” He said simply as he started to turn around, and move away.

I wanted to do something to stop him, I wanted to ensure that Echo did get away, that he didn’t kill him and that she was still out there somewhere.

But I couldn’t. All I could do was struggle to try to raise my hand up to stop him, and fight to keep my eyes still open for a few seconds more.

The last thing I remembered from the conversation was him turning around, when he was near the window and ready to climb out of it. He sort of just looked at me with an amused smile and, with his low deep echoing voice, said “Nice shot, by the way, for someone without any biomechanical enhancements for shooting.” He pointed at his temple, right between his eyes, and said “You hit me right there, from that far away.” He chuckled, shook his head, and said “If it wasn’t for the fact that my skull was also biomechanical, I would have died right away.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m fully biomechanical, I would have lost the fight there.”

And like that he was gone.

I wished that I was gone.


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