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Melissa is huddled in the corner of her cell, praying that she is left alone today. Her favourite times are when she isn’t needed, when she is left alone for days on end. When you don’t need a weapon, you leave it locked away. And she would rather be locked away than be forced out to be useful.
But today she has no such luck. “Come on, cyborg.” Savannah beckons her to follow. Melissa doesn’t bother to resist anymore. She used to fight, rail and struggle and make things as difficult as possible for her captors. But it has been a long time. And all fighting did was get her hurt. Not fighting stops her from getting hurt. But it gets other people hurt.
An exhibition, over two days. Stand next to a stall, occasionally march around the room. Let people poke and prod and smack at her. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except…
“I’ve got an event during the night, it will be guarding me during that.” Verliezer continues.
Melissa blinks. The timeline doesn’t add up. And it apparently doesn’t for her handlers either. “Sir, can you confirm this schedule for me? When will she be eating, sleeping and such?”
Verliezer looks genuinely surprised. Melissa’s stomach boils. He forgets that she is human, that she has needs. “She can eat now, in the hour between the exhibition and the event, and before the second day of the exhibition. Sleep… she could snap in the hour between as well. She doesn’t need that much.”
Melissa stares at him. Cutting off her limbs and sticking metal on in their place didn’t take way her need for sleep!
“Sir, I don’t think that is a good idea.” Brick says. “Lack of sleep could lead to sloppy behaviour.”
“She has been trained better than that.” Verliezer says. “She knows the consequences of sloppiness.”
“We can’t train her out of tiredness.” Savannah tries.
“I wasn’t looking for feedback. Remember your place, you two have no room to argue with me.” He stands. “You know the schedule, make sure that you follow it. Dismissed.” He walks out, slamming the door behind him. Melissa hides her wince.
“That man-“ Savannah cuts herself off, but Melissa can see her clenched fist. Her frustration, frustration that she can’t voice. No one can argue with Verliezer. “Come on, cyborg.”
———
Melissa has spent all day at the exhibition. She hates them. She stands still, letting people poke and prod at her. She follows orders, and fulfils requests, doing whatever she is told. Treated like a doll, like a robot.
The worst part is that she knows she won’t be going back to her cell afterwards, put away like a doll on the shelf to be played with another day. She will be forced to play all night, then all day tomorrow. No break.
She is already exhausted as she marches after her handlers out of the room. She sees herself in a mirror as she passes it. She sees her bowed head, her dull eyes. She sees the V-Cyborg.
She vowed that she would never become Verliezer’s weapon. She broke that vow.
The hour after the exhibition isn’t a break. It is more being a doll, this time a doll being cleaned and dressed up. Prepared. She sits still as V-Tech employees fuss around her, cleaning and polishing her metal parts. They aren’t gentle. Not cruel deliberately, but they grab her arms and legs and move them however they need.
Someone shoves a plate of… something at her. Probably very healthy and nutritious, perfect for someone who should be strong and healthy. It looks like mud, and doesn’t taste much better.
Her weapon is screwed back on, then covered over until she needs it. They will never quite trust her enough to leave it on. She doesn’t really mind, the claw-like hand they put on in its place is much more useful, although still definitely unwieldy and annoying. But it is a reminder that they all see her as dangerous, something that needs to be disarmed and made safe.
And once all of that is done, there is only ten minutes before the event. She sits in the corner, just part of the scenery. She yawns.
Brick knocks on her arm. “Don’t you do that when you’re around Verliezer, he’s in a bad mood.”
He’s always in a bad mood. But Melissa doesn’t say that out loud. They won’t hesitate to tase her for the disrespect, even though she is supposed to be guarding all night.
She stifles her next yawn. She didn’t sleep well the night before, nursing the after effects of a stupid mistake. She wants to just curl up and fall asleep, but people bustle around her and the lights are bright.
She really hates any mission where she has to be around Verliezer. Every tiny slip up is like a car crash to him. She shifts her foot, and he looks up at her. A clear threat. She isn’t supposed to move.
She feels a yawn rising in her. She manages to stifle it, and it probably goes unnoticed by everyone else. But Verliezer? He taps her on the leg. Just once. It is hardly noticeable, since her leg is metal. But she knows exactly what it means.
It’s not fair . None of this is fair.
The room is loud, many of the partygoers are drunk. Music fills the room, which is hot and stifling. She follows Verliezer, stiff and professional, a threatening shadow in case anyone has any ideas about hurting Verliezer. Her eyes burn, her metal arms feel like they are weighing her down. But she has to ignore her exhaustion. She won’t get to sleep for a long time yet.
When Verliezer leaves, and she follows him out, the sun is up again. He is, like she expected, displeased. And he takes it out on her. “You useless piece of scrap metal! All I expect is for you to act properly, is that too much to ask?”
She stands stock still, knowing better than to try and avoid his rage. “No, sir.”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Another blow. She lowers her head and shakes it. “That’s what I thought. God, you’re lucky I don’t throw you out and get a cyborg that can actually do what it’s told.”
She takes the insults and cruelty with a lowered head. It’s not as bad as being hurt. But the words worm into her head, trying to chase away her own thoughts. Over time, they have become harder and harder to ignore. Easier and easier to accept as true.
He thrusts her towards her handlers, who have watched the whole display silently. “Sort her out. I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted.”
Something snaps in Melissa. He’s exhausted? She was up all day, and all night! And she will be up all day again! She is barely staying awake, and has been hurt and screamed at for yawning. And he gets to complain, while she doesn’t. She hates him. She hates him so much.
She opens her mouth, the anger bubbling in her ready to spill out onto the person she hates most in the world. But something stops her. She used to get angry before. She used to scream and yell at Verliezer. But what did that lead to? Nothing good.
She shuts her mouth.
———
The second day of the exhibition is even worse. Her eyes burn, her body desperately tries to sag even as she holds it up.
All of the little annoyances get even worse due to her exhaustion. Kids poking at her feel like knives stabbed into her. Someone tugs on her arm, and due to her tiredness she stumbles. She wobbles a bit as she marches around the room. Bashes into a table.
Oh, she is going to be in so much trouble.
She sits down, when she is ordered to. She sits stiffly, watching people flow around her. Listening to the noise. It is loud and bright. But she is so, so tired.
Her head droops backwards. Her eyes force themselves shut. And for a few seconds, a few precious seconds, she drifts off.
Savannah grabs her arm and yanks her to her feet. “Don’t you dare, you stupid cyborg.” She hisses. “Not right now, for gods sake.”
Horror hits Melissa. No. No, she didn’t do that.
She manages to stay awake for the rest of the exhibition, to behave according to expectations. But fear has frozen her stomach. All of the annoyances and exhaustion seem minor compared to her terror. Because Verliezer is going to be furious.
———
Verliezer is waiting when she gets back to her cell. He glares at her, coldly furious. She gulps, lowering her head even further than it already was. “Are you stupid? Do you not understand my orders? You’re pathetic. You’re a failure. Scrap metal.”
She just stands there and takes it, prepared for pain. Agony. A punishment that will last for days. “Say that. You’re scrap metal. Say it.”
The part of her that wants to fight tells her to say exactly that. Call him scrap metal. It would almost be worth it. Almost.
She doesn’t want to say it. But she has no choice. She never has choices anymore. So, head bowed, arms stiff by her side, she says it. “I’m scrap metal, sir.”
He nods. “Exactly. Now, this is how we’re going to deal with it. It is…” He checks his V-watch. “… 10pm. You will not be sleeping until 8pm tomorrow. Your handlers will ensure that you don’t.” His cruel tone chills her. The order chills her more.
She is locked in her cell. But not alone. Her handlers join her. The lights are brighter than normal. They are loud. And every time she starts nodding off, they prod at her. Jab at her with their tasers. She trembles in the corner, in pain and exhausted and frightened.
Her handlers leave after a few hours, replaced by mechanics who do the same job. She huddles away from them, trying her best to stay awake so they won’t hurt her.
At 8pm, they leave. She curls up on her bed with her blanket. Finally allowed to sleep.
But fear still keeps her awake for a while yet.