Alright. I’m posting this from a laptop I stole. Probably the only one in this place that can actually access the outside, although I don’t know for certain. Honestly, I don’t know if anybody’s going to see this, but…I have to try. Okay. I don’t have much time. I’m writing this because I want people to know what’s happening to me.
Nothing ever really stays dead down here. That’s the first rule. The most important rule. The rule you really need to remember.
I guess I should start at the beginning–shit, I’m bad at this. I was a college student, before…everything. I mean, before this place. Before the Machine.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Sorry. Ah, well–here goes.
Not sure how long ago it all started. Maybe two years? One? Three? Time doesn’t really work right here. Anyway—I’ll start at the beginning, like I said. I will try to recall everything as accurately as I can.
I don’t know how I got here. Nobody does. I can’t explain it. I was on a bus to campus, I fell asleep…and then next thing I know I’m waking up in a dark, empty room with steel walls and no furniture.
Initially, I assume I’m still dreaming, which I think is a pretty reasonable initial response. However, I soon feel the tight metal cuffs digging into my wrists and ankles, the icy bite of cold steel pressed against the bare skin of my face and neck—and I realize that this is not, in fact, a dream.
I’m in shock for a bit; I don’t know how long. It could be hours, or it could be minutes. I just kind of stare at the floor and will myself to wake up, even though I know it won’t work.
Once I get past that stage, though, I try to take stock of my surroundings. My backpack is gone. I can’t feel anything in my pockets, either. My clothes are all still there, which is good. I try to stand up a couple times, but with my wrists and ankles cuffed there really isn’t a lot I can do. Eventually, I manage to maneuver myself into something of a sitting position against the wall, and I decide that’s good enough.
I try to push down the panic rising in my chest. Questions like, where am I? How did I get here? Am I going to die? What’s happening to me? can all wait. Right now, I know the only question that really matters is, how am I going to survive?
I just don’t have enough information to formulate an answer. The extent of the information I have can be summed up pretty quickly: Steel room. No visible door. No furniture. Nothing that could be used as a tool. No indication as to my location. No indication as to who brought me here. Dim light, but no visible light source. Basically, I know jack shit. Fear begins to well up in my chest, and I struggle to fight down the panic.
Thankfully, before I can spiral, a door opens. A door! It had meshed so perfectly with the surrounding metal that it looked like a rectangular section of the wall swinging inwards, revealing a dim red glow from whatever lay beyond—silhouetted by two people.
The two people walk in, and the light in the room brightens, though no light source becomes visible.
I don’t bother trying to stand up-–it would just be embarrassing.
The two people, for their part, look quite intimidating. One of them is a pale, well-built bald man with a thick, red mustache. He wears camo pants, a wife beater, and has two wicked-looking knives tucked into his belt.
The other person looks like nobody I’ve ever seen before. The right side of their face is normal—bright green eyes, blonde hair with blue highlights—but the left side is…steel. Literally steel. Think terminator skeleton. Just a grinning, metal skull. There’s no clear seam going down the middle, where flesh and metal fuse. They are seamlessly melded together—honestly, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where the metal ends and the flesh begins. Then, from the neck down, their flesh looks normal on both sides. They wear a leather jacket, zipped up, and fingerless gloves. The fingers protruding from the right glove are human, but the left looks like bony steel. They wear jeans and combat boots, with two knives tucked into their belt as well.
I catch myself gawking, and quickly turn my gaze back to the bearded man. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here. Am I supposed to say anything?
Thankfully, the bearded man speaks before I say anything to embarrass myself. “You got a name?” His voice is deep. Rich, with a subtle southern twang.
“River,” I croak, wincing at the sound of my own voice. It sounds hoarse, as though I haven’t spoken in weeks. It also sounds deep—masculine. I sound like a man, which I hate. Not even an intimidating man—just an awkward, geeky sort of man; the kind of man you’d probably bully the shit out of in highschool. If I hated someone, this is the voice I’d give them. “My friends call me Riv.” I have no idea why I said that.
“We ain’t friends, River,” replies the man coldly. “I’m Chris.”
“Avery,” says the person with the metal face. It is fascinating, how both halves of their mouth move simultaneously as they speak. The human side forms words with its lips, and the steel skeleton side just opens and closes its mouth. The voice sounds pretty normal–it doesn’t sound artificial, like I’d expect. Although I guess to be fair, I have no idea what to expect. “Anyway, with introductions out of the way–-we’re going to ask you some questions. You’re going to answer. Understood?”
Well–Avery certainly doesn’t fuck around. I nod, feeling a twinge of fear on top of the panic that has already made a home in my gut. These people are going to hurt me. This is it. I’m dead.
“You got any useful skills?” asks Chris.
“Uh–I’m good at calculus, and I know how to program,” I reply lamely. I am a math and computer science double major, so that seems like a reasonable claim. Chris’s eyebrows furrow.
“Programming?” Avery asks, raising their eyebrows. Well—eyebrow, I guess. The one on their flesh side. You know what I mean.
“Yeah,” I reply. Is this my chance to not die? I decide to milk it, to make myself seem as competent a programmer as possible. Maybe if these people have a use for me, they won’t kill me. “I know Java, C++, Python, and R.” Avery looks unimpressed, although I guess it’s hard to tell. Chris just looks confused. Hurriedly, I continue: “I can learn any programming language if you give me a little time.”
“Not useful,” Avery deadpans. “You got any practical skills?”
“Like what?”
“Can you fight? Are you strong? Can you build anything? Can you cook?”
“I can fight,” I reply unconvincingly.
Chris looks doubtful, and Avery’s expression remains unreadable. “Look,” Chris begins, “No offense, but—you’re a bit on the skinny side for that, ain’t ya?” I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he just wants to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately—if it’s the latter, it’s working.
Despite everything, I chuckle. “Uncuff me then,” I say with an unreasonable amount of confidence. The truth is, I can fight, sort of—but at the moment my brain is fried with fear, and my whole body is so full of adrenaline that I can barely think. Fuck it, I tell myself. We ball.
Chris laughs. “Alright, alright—calm down, girl. I’ll uncuff you in a second, if you promise not to do anything stupid. I believe you—you got the eyes of a killer.”
I frown, looking away. Suddenly, I don’t feel so confident. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with a surge of emotion so powerful that I want to throw up. “You don’t know anything,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
Chris looks confused at my sudden change in demeanor, but he just shrugs it off. Avery cocks their head and just looks at me with that piercing, half-human gaze. They’re looking at me the way I’d look at a bug on my hand, watching it crawl around for a bit before crushing it to death. Those eyes just aren’t right.
“You on any drugs?” Avery asks.
I frown. “What?”
Avery produces a syringe, although I’m not entirely sure from where—and honestly, I think it’s best that I don’t know. Noticing my panicked expression, Avery smiles. I think it’s a smile, anyway. It’s hard to tell with only half a face.
“This isn’t supposed to kill you,” Avery says. “But if you’re on anything, it might. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you on any drugs?”
The syringe needle glints in the light, and I feel my breathing quicken. I cannot have a panic attack right now, I tell myself. Like that’s going to help.
I start talking. Buying time. Maybe somehow, an idea will magically form in my mind that will save me from…whatever the fuck is happening. “Uhh—Zoloft, Vyvanse, Wellbutrin, Estradiol, uh…fuck, I don’t know. Some thyroid medication? Levothyroxine I think? I’m blanking. Don’t inject me with that shit, please. Avery, come on. Hey, come on. Look—”
The human half of Avery’s face curls into a sinister grin, and my protests are cut off as the syringe is slammed into my thigh. I swear I can feel the needle hit the bone. For a second, I don’t feel anything—but then the pain hits, and I scream.
Chris grimaces, closing his eyes—but Avery just laughs.
It’s like a million white-hot needles moving through my body, starting at my thigh and making their way through my entire body. Every piece of my body, every cell is screaming in agony, and I can feel my vision dimming as I start to lose consciousness. I fight to remain conscious—to survive—but I fail miserably. Gripped by terror, I start struggling, convulsing in place…anything to move, to get away—from what, I’m not sure—but just away. I fall flat on my face, since my arms and ankles are still cuffed. I try to maneuver myself into a sitting position, but I feel my whole body shutting down, distancing itself from the pain.
Avery’s laughing face, half human and half grinning metal skull, is the last thing I see before the terrifying darkness takes me.
I wake up in a bed—and I can almost dismiss Avery and Chris as a fever dream, except that…this isn’t my apartment. This looks like a dorm room, and not one I’ve ever been in. The walls are blackened steel, and the bed frames are made of something I can’t even begin to comprehend. The material is an abomination of steel and dead, well-preserved flesh. The mattress seems normal though, so thank fuck for that.
There’s a window on the other side of the room, and through it I can see…my campus? But—also, not my campus. Look, I’ve been going to UNX (name changed for privacy reasons) for a while now…and I know the layout. What I’m seeing through this window is definitely the layout of a cluster of dorms on the north side of campus, but…it’s all wrong.
The buildings, usually made of red bricks, appear to be made of blackened steel. The walkways between the dorms, which are usually also paved with bricks, are paved with rectangles of the same blackened steel, with some lightly colored ones scattered randomly throughout. It might be a trick of the light, but the lighter bricks look to have an almost…fleshy texture, and I swear I can see them pulsing slightly. A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I screw my eyes shut. Please, let this just be a dream.
“Hey!” says an overly enthusiastic voice from behind me. “You’re awake!”
I spin around, looking at the speaker. A girl, probably around my age. She wears yoga pants and a tank top, like she’s about to head to the gym. Before I can say anything, she continues: “I’m Zoe! It’s great to meet you—River, right?” She smiles.
I scowl at her. “Yeah. Where are we?”
“Ah, yeah—about that.” Zoe gestures at the window behind me. “It’s UNX, but not UNX. I assume you’re a student?”
That is not an answer at all. I continue scowling. “How do you know that?”
Zoe shrugs. “Anyway—yeah, so it’s UNX…but not UNX. Don’t worry, it’ll make sense later.”
I highly doubt that, but I have other concerns to talk about. “How’d I get here?” I ask.
Zoe shrugs again. “Don’t know. Everyone just showed up here, and everyone who’s showed up here so far has been a student.”
“Are you a student?”
Zoe nods. “I am, yeah. I’m an English major, and I like to write.”
That’s crazy, but I didn’t ask, I almost say. But I think better of it. There’s no reason to take out my frustration at the situation on Zoe. After all, it’s not her fault I’m here. Is it?
I look at her more closely. At first glance, she looks…normal. Way more normal than Chris or Avery. If I say the words ‘white sorority girl,’ I guarantee that whatever image you have in your head is probably at least 80% accurate regarding Zoe. She looks like she should be out on the quad, handing out flyers and going “Hey, come check out Kappa Beta Ligma!” or whatever.
White, dirty blonde, very pretty—looks like she should be in line at a Starbucks. But as I look closer, I can see this look in her bright, green eyes (I think they’re green, anyway. I’m colorblind, so it’s mostly guesswork). Something intense that I can’t quite place my finger on. Something slightly unhinged. It scares me a little.
She has a thin frame, but it’s filled out with lean muscle. She looks like an athlete; she looks strong, and carries herself with the sort of confidence I’d expect from a fighter. Briefly, I wonder if she’s actually here to make sure I don’t try to run away. I wonder if she could stop me. Part of me wants to find out, just out of curiosity—but that would be a spectacularly bad idea.
Just then, an ear-splitting screech sounds in the distance. Startled, I turn back to the window—and I swear that just for a second, I can see something on the empty walkway between the dorms. A shadow, vague and indistinct—but somehow I know it’s looking up at us. At me.
Then I blink, and it’s gone. What the hell?
The screech splits the air again, and I cover my ears. It’s not human—of that, I’m certain. But it also sounds like no animal I’ve ever heard. When the screech dies down, I turn to Zoe. “Uh, what—”
“Don’t worry,” she cuts me off. “We’re safe here.”
I am quite worried. “What is that?”
Zoe just shakes her head, her eyes wide. “We’re safe here,” is all she says—but I can hear her voice shaking, and her smile looks plastered on. She’s lying.
I feel tendrils of dread creeping into my brain, and I force the panic down. What the fuck is this place?
“Zoe,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level, “what the fuck is going on?”
She stops smiling, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, her upbeat demeanor is gone, replaced by a very matter-of-fact tone. “The Machine,” she whispers. I frown. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Look, River—there’s a lot you don’t know about this place. I don’t have time to spoon-feed you answers. Just…this dorm complex is safe. If you go past any of the bus stops, you’re dead. Well—not really dead. Nothing ever really stays dead down here. Remember that. Don’t kill anything. It’ll come back, but worse.” She takes a deep breath, and continues quickly before I can ask any questions. “However you came here, that’s how you’re going to stay. Any drugs in your body are going to stay there. You can still eat and drink and starve to death—except you can’t permanently like, die here—and you still need to sleep…but whatever was in your system when you got here is staying. Anyway…stay here. Just—go to sleep or something. You’re a liability right now, and one that we can’t afford. I have to go. Bye!”
Before I can say anything, she’s out the door, slamming it shut behind her. I try to follow, but it’s locked. I still have a million questions, and no idea how to process anything Zoe just told me. Nothing really stays dead down here. What does that even mean?
The sound of something slamming into the window behind me snaps me out of my reverie. I turn—and immediately stumble backwards, choking on a scream. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I find myself hyperventilating. Terror grips my chest, freezing me in place. What the FUCK is that?
Shit, I think I’m out of time. If I get out of this, I’ll try to update. Otherwise…well, it’s been real, y’all.
-Riv