Alex sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress firm and unyielding beneath him. The room was barebones, a stark contrast to the lively dining hall they'd just left.
Dinner had been good, more than good, but it still felt unreal, like a distant memory. What stuck with him was the decision made at the table: He would join Royce and Evie in training for the Crucible's next exam period.
The Crucible. It had been mentioned in passing before, but now, with Royce's casual grin and Evie's nervous smile, it became a reality. They were preparing for a huge part of his life, and if Alex played his cards right, it might actually be all he needed to break free.
He glanced around the small room. There was nothing much here except a single wooden chair in the corner and a small wardrobe.
A thin layer of dust lined the window sills, and the faint hum of wind outside was the only sound, aside from his own breathing.
Royce's parting words echoed in his mind: "Training starts at dawn. Be ready." It was said with the usual nonchalance, but there had been a weight behind those words. It wasn't just some training session.
Royce tried to hide it behind his usual nonchalance, but Alex could see the sweat drip down his forehead.
The Crucible.
Alex leaned back, closing his eyes. A sense of unease crept over him. It wasn't the training that bothered him. No, it was something else—something triggered by Darian's salute.
That half-salute, half-mockery had stirred something deep in him. It had been so casual, so... familiar. And yet, it shouldn't have been.
He shifted in the bed, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. But the more he tried to shake it off, the stronger it grew. His thoughts became muddled, swirling between the present and something far older.
Suddenly, the memory broke through, sharp and clear
He was eight again.
The institute loomed cold and sterile around him. The other children, all no older than him, were scattered around a dull grey kitchen, laughing, saluting each other in between cooking.
Tiny stoves, pots, and pans seemed like toys in their small hands, but they were all under the scold detached, unfeeling eyes of the guards. This was not a game, nor a carefree moment. No this was something far more precious.
This was a rare privilege, one they seized with a mixture of joy and fear. They weren't allowed much time to be carefree and laugh. I f anything, one would think joy was against institute rules.
But Alex—no, X—stood apart. His arms folded, back straight, as the others bustled about. He just sat against the wall cross-legged.
This is wrong.
"Come on, X! You gonna stand there like a statue all day?" A boy with wild hair flashed him a crooked grin before snapping a crisp, exaggerated salute. "Yes, sir, robot X, sir!"
The other children giggled, the sound eerie in the sterile atmosphere. They weren't scared. Why would they be? They'd never known anything else. Captivity, experiments—this was their world, the only world.
This is wrong.
X didn't answer, didn't move. He'd always been quiet. Especially since that procedure. The one that made the letters 'real.' They all had letters, not names.
Just designations. His was X. He didn't know what it stood for, didn't care. The others, they had become happier, kids. Not him. He started to understand, What was happening here was twisted, inhumane, and wrong on so many levels.
Nothing about this is right!
"Hey, look!" a girl's voice piped up, and X turned slightly. M. She was one of the lively ones, always smiling, always chattering. She was holding up a pan, her grin wide. "I made something!" She beamed as if she'd just conquered the world, her delight palpable.
"It's probably terrible," one of the others laughed, but the teasing was gentle, kind, like family ribbing each other.
M skipped over to X, her braid swinging with each step. "Robot X, want some?" she asked, holding out a spoonful of the mystery concoction she'd created.
Pain shot through X. How can someone do all this? Why does it have to be me who knows all this?
Inwardly X's heart twisted with pain and pity. But outwardly he kept himself stoic.
He shook his head, still silent. He couldn't join them. The camaraderie, the laughter—it felt distant. He just couldn't stomach all of this. He wanted to throw up.
M's face scrunched up in mock offense. "Aw, come on! One little bite won't make you malfunction."
The others giggled again, and she added, "What are you, made of metal? You're always so stiff. Loosen up, X!" She gave him a light poke in the ribs, as if that could crack the shell around him.
But X didn't laugh. He didn't protest. He simply stood there, staring at the others, wondering why they could still smile, why they could still laugh, why they weren't broken inside like he was.
The guards, watching them, didn't care about their small joys. As long as the children obeyed, nothing else mattered.
M eventually shrugged and scampered back to the others, but not before throwing one last teasing jab. "Someday, I'll make you smile, X. You'll see!"
X watched her go, her words echoing faintly in his mind.
And he also made a promise.
One day, I'll get you out of here. One day, I'll laugh along with all of you.
Alex jolted awake, his pulse racing. His room in the hostel was quiet. The air was different, cleaner. He wasn't there anymore, in that cold, sterile kitchen.
But the feeling lingered—the camaraderie, the forced smiles, the subtle horror behind it all.
He sat up, heaving, tears streaming down his cheeks. What had happened? The salute. The salute had triggered it. But why?
For a moment, he thought of M, of the others in that institute, wondering what had become of them. And for the first time since arriving at the hostel, Alex felt...lonely. Like a stranger in his own skin.
There was no-one, no-one he could talk to about this. For a while, Alex just hunched over forward and allowed the tears to flow down his face.
Just a dream, he told himself, though it was anything but. The past had a funny way of sneaking up on him, whether he was ready or not.
He lay back down, pulling the covers over himself. Tomorrow, training would begin. Maybe that would keep his mind busy.
For now, though, sleep felt far away.