A beautiful morning.
Deon lay peacefully in bed, a smile upon his face. Thin strips of sunlight slipped through the half-closed curtains, falling across the cluttered room: discarded clothes, empty cups, and yesterday's academy uniform hanging from the back of a chair.
High up in his apartment, golden light warmed his face while a gentle, subtle breeze provided a pleasant contrast. Deon loved mild, sunny days.
Today was one such bright and breezy morning.
"Wake up. The time is 8:48," whispered the almost-mechanical voice from somewhere near the ceiling. Its tone was calm and emotionless amid the dim light of dawn.
"Oh, shut up," Deon mumbled as he rolled over, dragging the blanket with him. The mattress groaned beneath him, while the pillow released a faint sigh of air escaping through its pores.
"Your university requires your presence at 11:00 a.m. sharp."
"Mmm... okay," Deon murmured lazily.
Still half-asleep, Deon made no attempt to move. He was already late for his big day, but the bed was warm, the breeze was just right, and the morning light felt fresh against his skin. Consciousness was an unpleasant obligation. For the moment, nothing else mattered.
"Failure to comply within the next thirty seconds will result in forceful measures."
"Unnngh."
The whispers stopped.
At least for the moment, there was peace. The room fell silent. Somewhere within the walls, however, a faint mechanical hum began to vibrate, blending with the sound of the wind.
And just as Deon's breathing slowed and he began slipping back toward sleep...
*Zrrrrrap.*
"GAAAH!"
Deon jolted awake.
The momentary shock to his system did more than knock him conscious. It sent his cortisol levels soaring — so high that he could no longer tell whether his heart was racing because he was afraid, or whether he was afraid because his heart was racing.
The electric current had awakened him, but it had also awakened something else: realization. There was a psychological explanation for his physical symptoms, and his mind was beginning to catch up. One little reminder...One little epiphany at a time.
Sweating profusely and panting for breath, Deon remembered the enormous problem he had so conveniently forgotten amid the chaos of the past two days.
He was outside the grid. He was a criminal. And then there was all that mechanical whirring he belived he misheard.
*Was he haunted?* The thought had crossed his mind for only a second before a crucial memory struck him like a cannonball — fired with precise timing.
And so it was that the memory played itself out in his mind. Like broken unedited footage.
He was back on the day he had awakened from the pod, feeling weak and frail while the Ashers raged around him.
"...It's almost as though they're alive."
"...It's almost as though they're alive."
"...It's almost as though they're alive."
"...It's almost as though they're alive." "...It's almost as though they're alive." "...It's almost as though they're alive."
...It's almost as though they're alive." "It's fascinating."
"...Trying to keep you alive."
"Keep you alive."
"It's fascinating." "Keep you alive." "It's fascinating."
"...It's almost as though they're alive."
"Oh, goooooooooood!" Deon screamed, his voice rising into a high-pitched shriek of a scared sissy. It was loud, frightened, Unmanly, and quite undignified — the sort of cry one might expect from someone undergoing gruesome torture. "Get it out of meeeee! Aaaahhhhh!"
"Waaaahhhhhhhhh!" he screamed, utterly unsure of what to do.
Had he been wearing clothes, he probably would have torn them apart in an attempt to "get it out of him." Given his state of extreme horror and confusion, however, he had settled for the blanket instead.
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
The cinematic, over-the-top screams echoing from the apartment next door made Sidra deeply concerned. One would usually hear cries like those only in a theatre, where tragic, wailing female ghosts produced them — either out of fear of the hell they were soon to visit or with the help of their victims, who would happily scream on their behalf without so much as a plea from the ghost.
Sidra, who was next door and much unlike our lazy protagonist who could not be bothered to wake, had already exited the bathroom and was in the midst of getting ready for university, just as she was putting on her uniform. Suddenly disturbed and concerned by the cries, she rushed toward his apartment.
An apartment that was, rather inconveniently, locked.
With a sense of urgency, she grabbed the handle and pulled. To the end of failure, however, she changed course.
And *Wham!*
The door swung open a full 180 degrees, slammed into the wall, rebounded, and swung shut again. Somehow, the lock clicked into place once more — that of course only after Sidra had already stepped inside.
Why did the lock still work despite the obvious break-in? Well, that was a question for the previous tenant.
Deon, meanwhile, far too busy to notice who had entered, had already torn apart even his underwear and was thrashing across the bed, doing who knew what...Glute bridges? The cat-cow pose? Beating his chest like a gorilla? Flailing like an infant?
"Sidra! It's inside me! Please, help!" he begged. At once having taken notice of her as she approached him with an intent to help. His face starting to blue with fear.
"Alright, Deon, calm down. It's fine—we can fix this. What did you put up your ass this time? More Hot Wheels?" Sidra spoke, genuinely scared as to what might be wrong with him to have him produce such fearful screeches. For a hot moment she trembled standing across him, both her hands suspended in thin air just shy of reaching for him.
"NO HOT WHEELS! NO ANUS! THE MACHINES—THOSE TINY MACHINES—ARE INSIDE ME! THEY ELECTROCUTE!" Deon replied, loudly enough to create several possible misunderstandings among the neighbors.
"Relax, Deon. Just calm down a little. I'll call an ambulance righ—" Sidra continued or tried to in her practiced calm that quickly gave out as Deon's panic and confution began to strike her the same. She wanted to help. She did not know how much Deon in that moment. And as she resorted to her phone-
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
"Moshi moshi. FBI desu. Haitte mo īdesu ka?"
"Wha—what? No... no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—NO! NOOOOOOO! NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GOD! NO!" And so yet again, subject to the situation for the second time now in the past 2 days deon craved the floor. Deon had lost his mind.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
"FBI! Open up!"
"Gyyyaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"
*Wham!*
The door burst open.
Sidra dropped her phone, while Deon jumped to his feet, his legs already tensing as he prepared to make a break for the window.
The police, at least, were not nearly incompetent enough to repeat Sidra's performance. This time, the door was smashed completely off its hinges and sent crashing flat onto the floor before the officers entered in typical SWAT-team fashion, guns raised and riot shields positioned.
There was one important detail to note. Before being dragged into this situation, Sidra had been getting dressed. Naturally, when someone is getting dressed, one must infer that they are not yet dressed.
And sure enough, the first thing law enforcement saw after breaking down the door was a nude man preparing to make a run for it. And not just any nude man, but a rough-neck with bright red hair dye, standing beside a girl who was kneeling on the floor, half-naked, wearing little more than underwear and half a uniform. A student uniform.
And so it happened that the captain of this ragtag SWAT team had been on the line when the complaint was filed with the emergency operator. As he stood in the apartment, a small memory replayed in his mind. And it went on to look something like this:
Distress Caller(Female): "Moshi moshi, is this the crime helpline?"
Operator: "Hai, crime helpline desu. How can we help you?"
Distress Caller(Female): "Yes, there is a crazed man who lives next door, and we can hear a woman screaming from inside. Can you send someone? My daughter and I are very scared."
Operator: "Hai! We will send someone over right away!"
*End of flashback*
"Goddamn you, disgusting pervert! Hands where I can see them!" Captain Daiki shouted, his gun pointed directly at Deon's head.
Deon stood frozen, trembling violently. He stared back at the captain, too frightened to move.
At that moment, another memory played in the captain's mind. This one had occurred while he was already on his way to the reported crime scene. And this one had gone something like so:
Operator(With Radio blur): {*Buzz* Hello, Captain Daiki. Another caller from the same location has reported the incident. I'm connecting you now for a better understanding of the situation. Please keep in mind that this particular caller has been identified as an ex-convict and frequent troublemaker. People have described him as eccentric and... goddamn weeb.}
Distress Caller(Male): "Hello, is this the police? Watashi... uh... crime... reporto... uh... josei no heimi—"
Captain Daiki: "Hello, Mr... Whoever you are, could you please speak in English? This seems to be a critical situation."
Distress Caller(Male): "Yesu, yesu... ah! Scary man lives next door! I know that scream from somewhere. It happens when big hot metal rod inserted! I know, I know — from famous healer show!"
Captain Daiki(To himself as he drives faster cutting thru traffic): "Oh my God. Even an ex-convict is scared of him... And a hot metal rod? What sickness? Kuso."
*End of Flashback*
"Come on, you sick fuck! This is your last warning! Hands and metal rods where I can see them! Right now! Otherwise, we will open fire! I repeat: we will open fire!"
But far from the last, there was but another memory still that was yet to flash through Captain Daiki's mind. During this commute, for another report had been in. This one had gone something like so:
{*Buzz*. Hello, Captain. Another report has just come in. Connecting you now.}
Distressed Caller(Male): "Mamma mia, polizia! Scary perverted guy upstairs! Very, very loud — I go deaf! He is mad. I've been to his house once. You open the door and see a bed. Who puts a bed in the living room, right in front of the door? You hear this?... Now he's screaming about Hot Wheels, an anus, and electricity! Mamma mia, so scary!"
Captain Daiki: "Oh my God. Hot Wheels up the anus... electricity? That sick scum. Merda!"
*End of flash*
"Come on, move, you deviant! On the floor NOW!"Captain Daiki shouted. Disgusted and enraged, his grip on the gun so tight the handle began to dent.
"Wait!" Sidra shouted. Her voice cutting through the chaos. Both hands raised, back on her feet.
"This is a misunderstanding, guys! My friend here isn't a criminal. He's not a criminal! He accidentally shoved some Hot Wheels up his anus, and they clearly broke or malfunctioned and are now electrocuting him! He's in a lot of pain, and we would appreciate an ambulance!"
"Oh my God," one of the officers said, wincing sympathetically. "That sounds miserable."
"What bullshit!" Captain Daiki snapped. Not having any of it. "Multiple reports state that a woman was screaming! You don't have to defend this piece of shit scum you are safe!"
"Er... that was my friend here, sir," Sidra replied. "The screaming, I mean"
"....."
"..."
To Be Continued==>