Snippet #1199323

Chiyen pushed forward, her fingertips trailing over the walls. In a normal building the room across from them would hold a common area where people could spend time. Instead, there was a storage area, cluttered with looming, heavy machinery that no one was sure the function of. The inhabitants of this building weren't supposed to associate with anyone, let alone with each other. The leaders of the system were constantly in fear of a mutiny, though they practically salivated over the power of their "private army".

"There are not many of us. Maybe twenty. They implant new ones in new mothers every four years or so, once the youngest ones have learned to behave and can control themselves enough not to hurt anyone. Or themselves. Our rooms are on this floor. The upper levels are for... for training." Training, experimentation, punishment. She stopped as her hand slid over the fourth door she had touched. This was her room. She had a sudden wave of shyness, a reluctance to show this stranger the pathetic room that was her living quarters, the only thing she could call her own. But, she shoved past it. The fear of losing this strange new feeling was much greater than any bit of shyness. So, she shoved the door open resolutely, blocked eyes turned toward him in quiet curiosity. What would he think of it?

Her living quarters were only one room, simple white walls and linoleum floors. There was a small, two-burner stove next to a sink closest to the door while the other side of the room was dominated by a bed, one chair, and a table with an old radio on it. It wasn't much of anything, that much was obvious. But it was hers and she walked in, determined not to be ashamed. She perched herself on the bed and gestured toward the chair. "Please, make yourself at home," she said, reaching up to undo the knot in her blindfold. ONe thing that she did like about the simplicity of her room, it made her condition easier. There was very little for her to become distracted by there.