They had put him in a fairly large white room. The lighting in the room was completely different from the dull room where he slept with the other slaves. In the middle of the room, there was a table and two chairs. Mike was sitting on one of them with his hands tied on top of the table.
Click.
The electronic sound of the door opening echoed behind him, and a man in a neat suit walked inside. He looked to be around forty, and though his appearance was proper and well-groomed, his eyes looked tired.
"You are Number 198?"
"Yes."
The man looked at the teenager sitting across from him. He was extremely thin, and he had black hair. Despite his age, he had worked more than a laborer who wasn't a slave. The man sighed. Mike saw something in his eyes, but he couldn't understand what it was.
"Sometimes they assign you to clean the supervisor's office, correct?"
"Yes."
Mike spoke in short answers because from a very young age he had been taught that this was how a slave should respond to his superiors.
"A file disappeared today from the supervisor's office. Do you know anything about that?"
Mike was afraid, but he tried to hide it. After a great effort to speak, he finally answered.
"No, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then what is this?"
The man took a tablet out of the bag he was holding and showed the video to Mike. The footage clearly showed Mike inside the office, taking the folder.
Mike began to tremble. He couldn't hide his fear anymore.
"I will ask you once, politely. Where is the folder?"
Mike didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Because of fear, he couldn't even think.
The man made a small gesture, and the guards grabbed Mike.
After that, Mike only remembered fragments—pain, blows, someone asking him again and again where the folder was. Then everything went black.