A Lasting Memory

I have no memory of what happened. No memory of who I was before this, just that I know that I was a danger. I was marked on the middle of my left wrist, the marking of a clairvoyant ↭.They never told me what it meant, why I was so dangerous. I only remember waking up to the sky of the city, of the forest that surrounded me. I only remember being in a silver room, someone asking me questions.

A man, it was. A man asked me questions. The Network tried to take that memory from me to, they almost did. Everything was so quick, I don't know which one they took. They took my name from me. They didn't think that I was worthy of that either. That I was good enough to know anything.

They left me with a glass screen, a screen that repeated a code of numbers every first day of every month. I've concluded that much. It comes on for five minutes, then it shuts back off again. The set of numbers have always been the same. One, five, two, four, six, three, and one with the letters of what month it is.

This month is January. Today is the 22. I dont know the year. When I was first dropped here, I looked. I looked for more. More anything. People, life, anything or anyone. I was stupid for it.

I have nine more days until the code repeats itself. I've been here in New York City for more than three years, and I'm still looking for something. I don't know why I stay, but I do. There's something keeping me here. I've tried to leave, but everytime I do, something switches my mind.

I've been hiding from The Network for far too long, ever since I've been here. They let me keep the memory of the name too, for fear. For a reminder. For anguish.

Everyday there are drones that run the streets. Sweeping for anything it can find, anything it can destroy. They only sweep during the day.

The Hovercraft runs at night. It's the biggest drone The Network has. As far as I know. It's the only other machine that I've seen. It's night time now. The usual lights of the west wing are ringing off. I've never been to the west wing.

But I've tried once before, during the day. When I was almost there, I heard the beeping of the drones and quickly hid. It's not the scanning of the drones that made me hide, it was the gun in the center.

When I was hidden, I saw there were four times the amount of drones that roam the streets rather than in the east wing. I couldn't go back there, or I would be securing my own death.

My food supply is scarce. I've been fending off canned food. I haven't seen any animals. I'm not even sure what some look like anymore. I've only heard the chirping of birds, until there cut of by what would possibly be the drones.

Sometimes I wait off the hunger. I wait off the pain in my stomach by flipping the thin glass screen in between my fingers. I wait for it to turn on. I try to look for a button, but I know I'll never find it. I've look three years for it, why would I think there'd be a button now?

Other times I would scream. Scream in my head. Scream at the voices that loomed in my mind. I would tell them to go away. They'd scream back. I would cover my ears until they went away. But they never left fully. They were there the next day. After that, too. And the next.

I haven't heard my voice in months. I never spoke. Even the littlest sound would be picked up by the drones. The sound of the slightest branch cracking. I don't know how I'm still alive.

I sleep in a small, but big enough, ditch. I ripped off the vines from the buildings to cover the entire spot. They never found me. The only protection I had was a spear formed out of a stick. I go back to waiting and thinking about the nine days to come, yelling at the voices to stop.

***

Its nine days later. They seemed to go faster. The sun seemed to set earlier. The nights come quicker. The glass screen would come on soon. I couldn't wait to see it light up. I lay in the ditch, which matted my long brown hair. It was covered in mud.

It was also the day that I take my first shower in a month. It's the same as the screen. On the first day of every month is when the screen lights up and they allow for it to rain. I could feel that it was already starting to drizzle.

The glass screen lit up in my hands unexpectedly. I expected one, two, five, four, six, three, and one, like every other day of the month. Instead, the numbers received were four, two, four, six, three, and one. Both the one and the five were missing. I was so shocked by what I saw that I dropped the glass screen and it shattered onto the ground.

No wait, wait no. No it didn't shatter it couldn't have shatter! No, no, no... I scrambled to put the the shattered pieces back together. They wouldn't fit back. I tried to pick up some of the pieces when one of the pieces cut deeply into my skin. I picked up a piece of the glass screen, and threw it. I didn't care about the noise. The way it deepened into my skin and drew out blood.

I had to slowly press my hands over my ears again. I could hear them coming back. They were back. Fresh blood reaching my matted brown hair. The voices whispered.

You'll never get out. They'll kill you either way. Time doesn't matter. They'll get what they need soon. You are an abomination. Something dangerous. A clairvoyant. You were never worth it. Not even worthy of your own name.

I screamed in my mind. I dare not scream out loud. They were passing by at this very second. The beeping of the drones. I wanted out of New York. I wanted out now. They won't stop me. The voices won't. I won't let anything keep me back this time. I would run at night.