29 - Reconstruction

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What kind of name is Brink? It reminds me of a cliff, or ice, or something.

"Well Brink, are those roses for me?" I giggle involuntarily. I'm both nervous and excited. Perhaps if I remembered him things wouldn't seem so...off.

"Absolutely, they are for you. Do you like them?" Brink murmurs with a semi-smirk on his face. He partially bows before walking over to me, stopping once we're less than a foot apart. His eyes are even more captivating up close. They're as intricate as snowflakes.

I smile. "The roses are wonderful, and make the whole room smell amazing."

"They pale in comparison to you," he compliments me, and leans in to kiss my forehead. A shiver slips down my back and I lose my breath for a fraction of a second. "How are you feeling?" he asks me after he leans away.

"Good. Really good," I correct myself. But good isn't enough. "I'm elated," I breathe.

Brink takes my hand. "I am happy to hear that. Have you had your health supplement yet today?"

I purse my lips, thinking, but I can't recall a single thing from earlier. "Um...health supplement? Like food? I don't know. I...can't remember."

"Supplements are the injections you receive daily to supply you with nutrition. If you don't recall at this time when you last had yours, that's fine. Chances are, you haven't. Shall we get it out of the way now so that we can go visit the others?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my approval.

I have no idea who these "others" he's talking about are, but I shrug in compliance. "Yeah, I'll take it now."

Brink nods. "Alright. Where do you want the injection?"

I bite my lip. I'm not a big fan of needles, so I really want it nowhere, but I assume I've done this before, so it can't be that bad.

Since I'm completely covered in a suit, I'm left with little options for the injection site. My wrist and my neck seem to be my only choices. My hand might be more pain tolerant, but I figure the serum will course through me faster if it's inserted in my neck, so that's where I tell him to do it.

"Perfect. Tilt your head back, just slightly. Right there." He brushes his blue-gloved hand across my skin and instant goosebumps raise up. I blush again, but he doesn't appear to notice. "Ok, one...two...three." Prick. It was a tiny pinch, and didn't really hurt as much as I expected; it happened too quickly for the pain to linger. "You are good to go, Aurora."

Rejuvenation sweeps over me. I roll my neck around, already feeling genuinely better than before.

Brink reaches out and takes my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. He gives it a tight squeeze before leading me out of the room and into a white hallway. A million questions explode in my head as we enter an ocean of people dressed in suits similar to that of Brink's, only white. They nearly blend in with the walls.

"Who are these people?" I gasp when they all look at us with blank, identical faces.

"We call them Programmables," he informs me.

I keep close to him to avoid bumping into one. "Why?"

Brink sighs beside me and I figure it's because he's told me all of this before. I find it strange I can't recall anything from just fifteen minutes ago.

"Well, because we can program them to do whatever we want. After they are created, code is written and implanted into their microchips. They can hear, speak, do almost anything you ask, but only what they have been programmed to say."

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