Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“For epithelial cell collection. Open!” the droid demanded.
Feeling horribly vulnerable, Sylvie did as it said, parting her lips and sticking out her tongue.
The droid hovered closer to her head and a new arm protruded from its silver belly. This one seemed to have something like a spoon at its end. Before she could see it very well, the droid jammed it between her lips and into her mouth.
The spoon-like instrument scraped painfully against the inside of Sylvie’s cheek. Then it withdrew and disappeared back into the droid.
This time she was sure it was over…but the worst was yet to come.
“On your back,” the droid demanded. “Spread your legs.”
“What?” Sylvie backed away from it. “I don’t think so!”
“You’d better do it,” Hersha warned. “It’s no fun but it doesn’t take long.”
“What…what is it going to do to me, though?” Sylvie demanded.
“Take samples from between your legs, of course. What else?” the other woman said dryly. “Come lie on one of the cots—it’s easier that way,” she added.
Feeling sick and horrified, Sylvie shook her head.
“No! I won’t do it!”
“You’ll be sorry if you don’t,” Hersha warned and the other women murmured ascent.
But Sylvie simply couldn’t make herself do what the droid was demanding. It would be like being complicit in her own rape, she thought. She wasn’t going to make it easier for that bastard Dr. Barbarous!
“You refuse to comply?” the droid asked in its mechanical voice.
“That’s right—you can fuck off!” Sylvie told it in a shaking voice.
She was afraid the silver droid would shock her or poke her with needles again to make her obey but instead it simply hovered in front of her for a long moment.
“You will regret this disobedience,” it said at last.
Then it turned and hovered back into the hole it had come from, which irised shut behind it, leaving what looked like a smooth, wooden wall.
“Oh, you’re going to be sorry for that,” Hersha remarked. “I’m surprised it didn’t shock you.” But she and everyone else in the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Sylvie could almost read their minds.
‘At least it wasn’t me’—that’s what they’re all thinking.
But what would happen to her now that she’d refused to let the droid collect all of the “samples” it wanted?
She didn’t know and she was afraid to find out.
9
SYLVIE
About an hour after the collection droid had made its appearance, another of Dr. Barbarous’s “treetures” came into the small, dim room. He was pushing a cart with five metal bowls and he also had an armful of clothing. He shoved the clothes at Sylvie.
“Change now. Dr. Barbarous says.”
Sylvie thought about telling him to fuck off, like she’d told the droid. But she was probably already in trouble for that little piece of noncompliance.
Unhappily, she slipped out of her protective white coverall. She was wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and panties under it. But when she tried to leave them on, the treeture shook a long, branch-like finger at her and growled,
“All off! All off!”
Very unwillingly, Sylvie took off the rest of her clothes and quickly slipped into the garment he had brought her. It turned out to be the same kind of shift, made of tan plant fibers, the other women were wearing. The fibers were silky if you stroked with the grain but extremely rough and scratchy if she ran her fingers up the dress instead of down it. Sylvie felt incredibly vulnerable in it.
The treeture took away her clothes and boots and handed out the silver bowls. Then he pushed the cart out of the small room and shut the door behind him, locking them in again.
Dinner was some kind of protein mush served cold. It tasted as bland as cardboard and Sylvie didn’t really want it. But when she offered her portion to Lorna, the goat-girl’s slotted eyes went wide.
“Oh, no—you can’t give it away. You have to eat it,” she said earnestly, shoving the offered bowl away.
“But what if I’m not hungry?” Sylvie protested. She usually never skipped meals, but recent events had completely robbed her of her appetite. She felt like she might actually be sick if she tried to eat the bland protein mush.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not—you have to eat every bite they give you,” Hersha lectured. “If you don’t want to end up like Grolla, over there.”
She nodded at the girl with long green and yellow hair who had been rocking and keening on the far bed when Sylvie first came in. Her skin was pasty pale though Sylvie couldn’t tell if it was her normal coloring or the pallor of long captivity. She was eating her own bowl of mush slowly but steadily, though her big green eyes were filled with tears that kept dripping down her cheeks and landing in the bowl. It was a pitiful sight and Sylvie wished she could help the girl, though she had no idea how.