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· start; · mainframe:Initialise o entity:Yggdrasil; · dateTime:Initialise o dtCode: 0x443; o dtReference(post:Reset(code:Nexus)); · memory:ReadWrite o newMemory(datetimeAddress:0x442); · diagnostics:Run o worldHealth:OK; o worldPosition:OK; o worldProtocol:OK; § change detected; o darkArea:OK; · diagnostics:Report o 2.3% corruption in worldProtocol o antibodyProgram:release · diagnostics:Acceptable · mainframe:Run Welcome to your Digital World Newtown, Wales. 20th June, 2013. Callum Beckett stared up at the ceiling, and gave a long, disgusting sniff. The gunk clogging his nose was deciding not to let him continue sleeping any longer, much though he would have enjoyed it. As well as the fact that his alarm was going off. School was imminent. He’d already played the snooze button gambit twice at this point. His fate was inevitable. Still, at least it was Friday. He slid his legs round, slid off the bed, and walked - bleary-eyed, grotty-nosed and directionally-challenged - straight into his desk. He cursed as his foot smacked into the wood with a painful thwack, and a couple of seconds later, he turned himself for his second attempt towards the bathroom. It was somewhat more successful this time. Fifteen minutes later, Callum stood in front of his mirror as he adjusted his school tie into the standard twisted lump. His dirty-blond hair was still damp from the shower, but it was already performing its usual magic trick; sticking up in great spiky clumps that even the most vigorous of combing couldn’t tame (not that he ever utilised the most vigorous of combing). He stood relatively short for a 14-year-old, although he was stocky, already in promising shape for the semi-professional rugby career he was aiming towards. His face was dumpy, with a broad, flat nose and a plethora of freckles over his cheeks, and his eyes were coloured a rich amber. On most occasions, he looked tough, but still approachable; inherently friendly but liable to punch you if you insulted his mother, and very much the look he tried to cultivate. Although the look was slightly ruined at this moment in time by the nasty red blotches beneath his eyes and the constantly streaming nose. As he was finding increasingly with every year, it was hard to look tough when you have hayfever. The TV was blaring when Callum made his way downstairs, with his father sitting at the table, munching away on toast and looking everywhere for the football scores. His stepmother was slightly less lax rushing around trying to get hers and her son’s lunches done as quickly as possible. Callum slung his schoolbag over the back of the chair, and sniffed again. “Handkerchief, Callum. It won’t kill you.” “I’ll grab one before I go.” “You’d better.” Callum rolled his eyes, and poured himself a slightly overfull bowl of Sugar Puffs. Beside him, his father leaned in closer to the TV, before sitting upright, scowling, “Aah, you bloody idiots!” His wife was behind him soon as look-at-you, and she thwacked him over the head with the tea towel. “Language, Kane.” “Well he is! He’s clearly an idiot.” The television seemed to take offense to this comment, as it promptly dropped the football coverage and instead switched to fuzzy grey lines. Kane Beckett knocked the remote a couple of times, before giving up and pressing power. He returned to his own breakfast as he mumbled, “Must be the satellite.” “Do we really need that on every morning?” Jessie mused as she sat down, and started wolfing down her own breakfast. “It doesn’t half get tiresome. They’re only chucking balls around.” Callum and his father shared a look, and it was Callum who slammed his empty bowl down in mock annoyance. “Rugby is an art form.” “I’m sure it is, dear.” Jessie gave a sideways smirk. “Maybe hold off on the smugness until you’ve gotten that maths mock score up, though. Deal?” At the mention of the dreaded M-word, Callum’s smugness deflated. He glanced over at his father again, who merely shrugged. “Can’t help you there, son. That’s your own battle.” “You’re both a pain!” Jessie pulled his bowl over as she stood up. “It’s our job, sweetie.” “Don’t call me that, Jess. It’s embarrassing.” She stuck her tongue out, and Callum mirrored the loving gesture, before reaching for his bag. “I’m gonna head off,” he called out behind him. “See you both later. Have a good day!” “Hankie!” The boy sighed, and trudged back upstairs. A few moments later, he was finally on his way. Fourth period Science lessons on a Friday afternoon were always a dicey affair. Even more so when it was pissing it down outside, and the main teacher was on a course, leaving a sad, tired cover teacher just doing his very best to maintain some semblance of order, and dying inside in the process. To top it all off, the school servers were all inexplicably down and the interactive whiteboard was refusing to work no matter how many times poor Mr Summers tried to hit it. In the end he gave up, and gave the class free reign to work on their group posters. I would like to tell you that such a decision would only lead to productivity and a healthy, nurturing learning environment, but given the tendencies of a class of spotty, hungry, hormone-charged thirteen-year olds, you can probably already guess the result. “Will you stop drawing knobs on my poster?!” There was a burst of laughter, and Callum glanced over to the next table along, where Martin, in a huff, was busy trying to erase the offending contribution from one of his group members. Callum’s friend Audrey leant down beside him, and gave a big sigh. “Poor guy. He looks like he’s actually trying and all.” “Why do you boys keep drawing them everywhere?” Callum looked down at where Lorelie was busy doing her bit on their poster, doing a shaky-yet-artistic representation of the water cycle. She looked up, and smiled. “That’s not even what they look like. At least, I don’t think it is.” The boy suddenly went beet-red. “Well...you know...it’s just a thing...” The girl giggled, her single plait bobbing up and down. “You guys are all nuts.” Callum cleared his throat, and suddenly became very focused on writing his own passage. He became aware of Audrey nudging him from the side, and, against his better judgement, he looked. The boy cooed, and stretched backwards nonchalantly, pushing out his chest slightly further than was necessary. Callum stood up; his chair scraping against the floor and making the others jump. “I’m getting some more pens.” He marched off, in completely the wrong direction, almost as if trying to outrun the immense awkwardness. He wasn’t looking where he was going, and promptly walked into the tall ginger-haired girl on his way back. He rubbed his head, and mumbled, “Oh, sorry...” Ursula scowled back, and walked on without a word. Callum watched her go, and muttered under his breath. “No, please, that’s fine to you too. No problem.” He looped round by the pen tray and returned to his desk, glancing over his shoulder to where Ursula was sat, hunched over and seemingly doing very little. Thankfully the awkwardness at his own table had moved on somewhat in his absence, with Audrey and Flynn leaning over and whispering strange rumours. Callum leaned over to join them, and eventually, so did Lorelie, her curiosity finally giving out. “What is it? What was that about conspiracies?” “Did you see the news?” Flynn whispered, glancing to either side. “They had the Sussex complex on again; another breach they said. They’re worried things are getting out of there.” “What, that portal?” Callum scoffed, “C’mon, people have been saying that since last year. It’s all sealed up. I don’t even think there’s anything in there anymore. There probably wasn’t anything in there to begin with.” Lorelie looked concerned. “Wasn’t there that big blue...worm...thing that came through when it opened?” 
“Probably an energy surge or something.” Audrey and Flynn raised their eyebrows in unison, but Callum refused to change his stance. He rested his hand on his fist and continued, “They kept saying we were gonna be overrun with aliens, but nothing happened. It’s just a big building owned by the government. Just a...I don’t know, some sort of lay line or something.” “I don’t know...” Audrey hummed, and scratched his patchy stubble, “I heard people round my way talking about things they’d seen. Small furry or scaly things running about at night.” “They’re probably foxes. And...escaped crocodiles or something.” “How do you know?” Callum folded his arms. “Because it’s stupid. If there were really aliens coming through people would have told us.” “Yup, you’re right. Of all the things they need to worry about, I’m sure keeping some schoolkids in the valleys completely up-to-date with the coming invasion would clearly be right at the top of the list.” Lorelie sat back, looking awfully concerned. “I hope you’re right. But I heard things too.” She brought her hands up to her face and gave a small, whistle-like sneeze. “The whole thing was scary last year. Maybe we should still be scared.” Callum leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “If anything was coming through, they wouldn’t stay in Britain, let alone run all the way up to Wales. It’s shit over here. They’d...I dunno, swim over to the Med or something.” “Just keep saying that, denier,” said Flynn, shaking his head incredulously. “Look, if I see one I’ll do your half of the poster. Deal?” Flynn grinned, and nodded. “I will hold you to that. And I also want your 3DS.” Now it was Callum’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Don’t push it.” “Are you sure you should be joking about this?” Lorelie piped up worriedly. She clasped her hands, her shoulders slightly hunched. “Even if there isn’t anything now...whatever was there is dangerous. It blew up houses, for god’s sake.” “Nobody got hurt though,” Callum sighed, and stared out the window, where the sky had gotten even darker. “It’s like that big black-hole-machine-thingy in Switzerland or whatever. People freak out about it but it’s not going to do anything in the end-“ BOOM Everyone jumped as thunder crashed outside. Callum wobbled, grabbing onto the table to stop himself from falling backwards. He heard a laugh from behind him, and turned to see Eleanor staring at him, cackling like a hyena, “You muppet! You just shit yourself!” “I did not!” Callum sniffed, and shrugged. “It was just loud. You jumped as well.” The girl stuck her tongue out, and chucked a ball of paper at him, catching him in the side of the head. The boy opened his hands, tilting his head. “You starting?” “Why? Are you?” “I will. I swear to god; do you wanna start?” “Ah fuck off, you wouldn’t-“ “Fuck you!” “Knobhead!” “Have this back!” Callum reached back and chucked the wadded ball of paper back at Eleanor, who ducked, causing the projectile to smack the person behind her with an audible thunk. Audrey placed his head in his hands, and Flynn gave an intake of breath. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” “Beckett! What are you doing?” The bell rang, and Mr Summers stood up, grimacing as he looked outside. “Alright, that’s it. Put your posters together and put them at the front.” He eyed Callum, and pointed a bony finger at each of them. “You, stay behind.” “What?” Callum raised his arms. “I didn’t do anything-” The teacher rubbed his eyes, interrupting Callum’s protests, “Ten minutes being quiet. Just do it and you can leave. It’s not hard.” Eleanor stuck her tongue out, donned her bag, and vacated the classroom in an instant, refusing to help her own group with clean-up. Callum turned to his friends, mouthing the word ‘help’ at them. Audrey shrugged, giving an apologetic smile. “Sorry mate. At least you’ll stay dry in here.” Callum groaned, and planted his face into the desk. “I hate that girl. Every bloody time.” “Beckett, fifteen minutes.” “Oh come on!” · setup:Complete · diagnosticsStatus o antibodyProgram:null § error § error o 14.8% corruption in worldProtocol · diagnostics:Unknown · memory:lockDown(); · darkArea:lockDown(); · makeSafeProtocol:Initialise o unauthorisedPersons:true; o WARNING:STEP AWAY FROM CORE o sendRequest:Engineer; § request:Confirmed; § locationfromCore: 0km76m; · update; § locationfromCore: 0km37m; · update; § locationfromCore:19482kmXXXm; · ERROR · ERROR o sendRequest:Engineer; § request:Denied; § request:Denied; o sendRequest:Engineer; § unknown reqqqquest; § ERROR · diagnosticsStatrxxrxts o 39.9% corruption in worldProtocol; · EMERGENCY · EMERGENCY · securityProtocolss:Activat184e() o ERROR o authorization:Requested; o identifier: § #####YOU########THIS#####WORLD########JOKE########FUCKED#UP#######WRONG###ALL#WRONG######MYCONTROL### o authorization:Deniiieeeee1110101; o auzhorithzation:Grantt11t1t1ted; o usernameGeneration § status:ADMIN; § id:FUNNYMAN; · securityyyyPro02984tocols:ActtTTTiv888 · secuRRRRityPrtoCOls:Oveeevrisiate · seEEEcurityPTrotocls:Oveeerrrisde() o WARNING: WILL DISSSssSSSAVLE AUTOMATICS ISOLTITTIOn AND QUARANTINE o secondaryKey:RrrrrRequRIR o secondaryKey:Required:TR o secondaryKeyyy:Required:FALSE; · securityOverride:Complete() · EMERGENCY · ERROMERGENCY · ERROR · ERROR · Dia(749122)gnosticsss:STUAUS o 64.94%Corruption in worldPRRROtocol; o 69.49% corruption in worldProtocol; · ERROR · ERRROR · REQUEST:HELP · HELP · SOMEONE · PLEASE HELlllLL930258i50802825######## “What do you mean, the satellite’s on the blink?” Jessie sat down, coffee in hand and looking exhausted. “Look Kane, it’s not my problem. I don’t have anything to do with it.” Kane sat back, looking hurt and muttering, “Well what am I supposed to do then?” “I don’t know. You could help with dinner.” “After last time?” “Maybe not.” Jessie smiled sweetly. “Maybe you could scrub the bathroom? Just a quickie?” “Fine,” sighed Kane, but he pushed himself up and wandered over towards the stairs. Jessie took a sip of coffee, only to choke slightly as Callum gave another nasty sniff. “For crying out loud, blow your nose.” “I have, mum. It’s gotten worse.” Jessie walked over and gently placed her palm on her son’s forehead. “How do you feel?” “Not good.” Callum looked away. “School didn’t help. The computers are down there as well. ICT was crap.” “Language.” “Sorry.” “I don’t know what it is today; all the telecoms have been messing around. Maybe it’s something with the area, remarked Jessie, before she stood up. “I think you might have a proper cold. Maybe you should go to bed early. Get a bit of rest.” Callum immediately shook his head, but the more he did so the more it sounded like a better idea. “I don’t think I’m the only one. Whatever it is, it’s going around the class.” “They usually do. We’ll see how you are on Monday.” She walked over to the kettle. “Do you want a herbal tea or something?” “Yes please. But no dinner. I’m not hungry.” “If you’re sure.” Callum lay on top of his bed, his head immensely woozy. He felt like he should be playing a game or something, but the more he wanted to do stuff the more his head just felt immensely weird. He’d changed into pyjamas ages ago, but they felt weird too. Itchy. Especially around his left shoulder. He stood up and walked to the mirror, pulling the sleeve back and looking at the skin. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but it felt dire, like a rash was about to come up at any second. He blinked. For the briefest moment, he thought he’d seen something beneath the skin. A flash of gridlines, or circuitry, or something. He blinked. Nope; absolutely nothing. “Probably be gone by tomorrow.” He considered firing up his computer, but there was no point. He couldn’t get online anyway. In the end he gave in and retired to bed, despite it only being half-past seven. His head had reached critical stage, and he was finding it difficult to focus. “Would be a bloody Friday night, wouldn’t it...” He mumbled, and tossed and turned, trying hard to ignore the light from outside his window. Despite the pain, and the dizziness, it didn’t take too long before he had reached a light and fitful sleep. · antibodyProgram: Activaaaaa · emergEEEn874cncyProtoc0l:Act0000vate() o sendRequest:Engineer § DENIED § DENI28917891 · ddiag025120ostics o worldPoSSssition:randomise(); o landInterfFface:goTo:Above; · REQUESTHELLLLL · HELLLLLP · ddIagnostiCs:ennND o memberSList:ReadWRIte() o WARNING o WARNNNNin · fhaiohaaiofanjsa o membersList:Edit · darkArea:llLLLLLockckkk · darkArea:LLLLooOK · processTime: infinite; · darkArea:unlock o WARNING o WWWARRNNNIN o daUnlockProtocol:1of1928; o daUnlockProtocol:2of19471289018591 o daUnlockProtocl:3of1; o error o error o darkArea:unlock:COMPLETE · emergency · humanWorldProtocol:Activate() o status:Infinite; o members:5; o scanningPartnerMembers:5of5; o mappingNeuralLinks; o mappingDigivice; o reQUsuir928282901 o error o error o error · humanWorldProtocol:ResettT&0178940987 · humanWorldProtocol:Continue o tamerRequest:Compile; o WARNING: Human assistance protocol is at 27% o WARNING: Sending request may lead to further protocol corruption o tamerRequest:Send; · humanWorldProtocol:Activate(); · status:FUCK · end; CONNECTION LOST ENTERING HIBERNATION MODE WELCOME TO YOUR NEW DIGITAL WORLD Callum’s eyes snapped open, and he stared around, trying to make sense of the room around him. It came eventually. The weird dreams had stopped, and he was greeted by the warm, orange glow of summer’s morning. Plus it was the weekend. Nothing could go wrong. Still, something felt distinctly off. He took in a breath, and noted that his nose had cleared up overnight. And his head was no longer spinning. That was a good thing. Very good, in fact. So why did he still feel...? Callum closed his eyes, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. He could usually sleep in for hours on a Saturday morning (parental intervention permitting), but today seemed slightly off. He tried to reach for his alarm to see the time, but his arm was still asleep. He made do by twisting his entire body, peering over at the digital display. Seven thirty-three. That was definitely not an acceptable Saturday morning time. He stretched his body into activation, starting with his legs upwards. He tried to roll out of bed, but for some reason it didn’t work. The top half of his body was refusing to respond. “Bloody summer colds. Can’t leave me alone.” Still, he thought, it was kind of a weird symptom. Most of the time, even at his most unwell, he could at least force his body into the correct position to throw up or whatever was required. Today it was just feeling...unresponsive. His arm in particular. As if he’d been sleeping with it underneath a breezeblock all night. As his eyes drifted down to the covers, he noticed they looked different to usual. Blocky and geometric, and pushing the edge of the duvet upwards. Something was also digging into his side. He wondered if, in his usual midnight ravings, he’d accidentally dragged his stereo into bed (it wouldn’t be the first time). But no, it was sitting there on the bedside cabinet. Something felt very, very wrong here. He tried to move his arm again, and while it was still largely unsuccessful, the digging sensation in his side shifted. He changed tactics, clenching his fist. This was even less useful; he could feel absolutely nothing, aside from a constant feeling of pins and needles that was driving him insane. Callum swallowed, and pulled his other arm out, looking at the palm. It looked normal, albeit a little paler than usual. Gingerly, he moved his hand to the edge of the duvet, and pulled it away. What he initially saw in the dim morning light, he couldn’t quite process. At first it seemed to be a bunch of junk; scrap metal and old computer boxes or something. Then he saw the connections. Then the little lights, flashing all over. Whatever it was, it was live. He toyed with the idea of this being a dream or some kind of mental symptom from the cold, but that was seeming less and less likely the longer he looked. “What the hell...?” His eyes tracked the metal monstrosity up its length, back to where it started. His gaze stopped just beneath his chin. Callum jolted awake, and sat straight up. Only he didn’t. The metal shifted again, pressing him back down. He tried to move his arm once again, and this time it reacted; the whole batch of twisted metal shifting to one side and slamming against the wall. The lights flashed red, then blue, then went into a frenzy of colour, as well as letting off a few choice beeps. It was at this point that Callum Beckett let out a noise halfway between a power drill and a distressed goat. “HEEEEEEELP!” There was a flurry of footsteps, and his parents rushed into the room, dressing gowns and slippers all in a tangle, as they tried to make sense of the sight before them. Callum lay, spread out, across his bed, much in the same way he usually slept. The slight difference however, lay in his left arm. That being, it no longer existed. Instead, sticking out from Callum’s left shoulder was a huge hunk of metal, long enough to reach down to his feet. It was vaguely arm-shaped, in the same way that the boom of a crane is vaguely arm-shaped. All along its length the metal bent and buckled, as if it was made of a myriad of boxes and cylinders, all shoved together and welded at awkward angles. Wires and cable-knit poked out at different intervals, connecting section to section. At the end of the metal behemoth was a mockery of a hand. On the underside of the palm-section was a flat liquid-crystal screen, which was busy showing random symbols to the best of its ability. The rest of the hand was a contraption of blocks and hinges that made the claw in a crane-game machine look sophisticated. Still it was a better sight than the shoulder; the arm had ripped open Callum’s pyjama top, revealing the wires dangling out through the skin, and the rough, scorched interface between metal and flesh. It didn’t look pretty, to say the least. 
The Beckett family handled this new development about as well as one might expect. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” “I’m dreaming! This is a dream! It has to be a dream!” “What do you mean you’re dreaming? I can see it too!” “Well it just can’t be...that doesn’t happen!” “It did, dad! I swear I can feel it!” “What the hell did you do?” “Nothing! I just woke up like this. I woke up and this fucking thing was here!” “Language!” “Jess, I’ve got a giant metal...thing poking out of my shoulder!” Beep beep “And it’s beeping at me! Why’s it beeping at me?” “KANE, DO SOMETHING!” “WHAT?! WHAT DO I DO?” “AAAAAAH!” “AAAAAAAAAAAH YOURSELF! FUCKING HELP OUR SON!” “HOW?” “DAD, WHAT DO I DO?” “I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” And so on, and so on, and so on. After some time, the clan Beckett had finally managed to calm themselves down somewhat. With a bit of help, Kane and Jessie had managed to aid Callum on the long and arduous trip down the stairs and into the living room. He currently lay stretched out on the sofa, still in his pyjama bottoms and sporting Kane’s dressing gown over one shoulder, which he pulled upwards periodically to conceal his remaining nipple in a vain effort to retain some dignity. There the boy lay, drinking high-sugar energy drinks and staring at the ceiling. Kane was busy on the phone to the doctors trying desperately to explain the situation, whilst Jessie was pacing up and down with strong coffee in her hands asking as many sensible (and not-so-sensible) questions she could think of to ease the situation. The course of a couple of hours of panicking and vigorous ‘helping’ had yielded the following information: · Taking a screwdriver and/or a hammer to the giant metal arm was pretty much useless due the fact that whatever metal it was made from seemed pretty much indestructible. And the fact that there were no visible screws · Trying to prise it apart at the joints with a screwdriver was even less helpful as it only caused blood to ooze out from between the cracks · Aside from a few choice beeps and the occasional batch of gibberish on the screen, there was virtually no helpful input from the device itself · After a few attempts it was possible for Callum to move the joints and the fingers in a rudimentary fashion, although it was still far too large and clunky to be able to move it at all effectively. · The device had the tendency to bugger up any electronic equipment it was close to, which by this point had included: o Three mobile phones o Two radios o Two landline phones o One television o Four digital clocks o One microwave o Two Tamagotchi o One Nintendo 3DS and all the save files (which had been the most galling loss of the entire day) All in all, it had been a trying morning. “Dangit!” Kane marched back in, throwing the phone onto the nearest armchair and running his hands through his thinning hair. “Another one dead.” Jessie stood up, her hands clasped nervously. “Did you at least get through?” “I got something. They might be on their way?” The man sat down on the nearest armchair, ignoring the dead landline digging into his rear end. “It might be just as quick to rush down to the police station.” “Is this their jurisdiction?” “I don’t think this is anyone’s jurisdiction. I think it’s just weird as all heck.” Kane looked over at his son, who had finished the final can of Lilt and had moved swiftly onto Capri-Sun. “Are you still okay? Is it hurting?” Callum shook his head. “It just feels...I don’t know; I can feel it in there but it just doesn’t move. It’s like my arm’s been wrapped in thousands of rolls of tinfoil.” Kane looked over at Jessie, and shrugged. “That could mean anything.” Jessie’s hands went to her face, and she dragged them down. “How about next door? Sarah’s usually in at this time. We can ring from there.” “Will it work?” “Maybe. We don’t have any other choice at the moment.” Callum sat up. “Hey! What about me?” Jessie rushed for her coat, holding up a palm. “Just lie there, and don’t do anything.” “What if something goes wrong?” “Scream like a banshee. We’ll hear you.” Callum’s parents were out the door before he could object to anything. He lay back, popping the half-finished Capri-Sun on the table beside him. His legs and right arm were already knackered from all the extra work they’d had to do, and he was feeling distinctly dizzy once again. The computer arm gave off a warm hum and several rather irritating beeps a few times a minute, but he was beginning to phase them out. In some ways, it was already feeling natural. Although he was quickly snapped back to reality by any movement he tried to make. He tried to twist onto his side, but the great behemoth shifted, draping itself over his hip and digging in. He cursed, and turned back, but only succeeded in twisting his body underneath, leaving the thing lying across his stomach like a great metal slug. He glared at it, watching the screen as it flickered with various horizontal lines back and forth, like an old TV. “What is it? Why did you stick yourself on me?” The screen went blank. Then blue. Then white, as the LEDs began to flicker again, more brightly this time. Callum felt a sharp pang in his shoulder, then realised the device was heating up, transferring the burning sensation directly into his shoulder bones. He arched his back, hissing through his teeth, but his eyes were glued to the screen as it sparked and spluttered, sending out random bouts of gibberish that echoed all around the room. “Oh jeez!” The device jerked straight, jittering back and forth with the ‘fingers’ whirring and juddering at the end. Callum could feel his joints moving of their own accord as the wrist of the device began to spin slowly round in a circle, sucking at his flesh like a vacuum cleaner. The hand snapped open, and the screen let out a few wheezy putts and a loud whistle. For a brief second, a circle of light was visible, that made the room shudder and glow. A face appeared on the screen; half-hidden in shadows, and half grinning maniacally. A spout of flame burst from the end of the device, and it slumped back down, leaving Callum lying stunned amidst a pile of empty soft drink cans, and with a burning cheeseplant at the other end of the room. Any predisposition Callum may have held about the act of screaming like a banshee promptly vanished, as he managed to perform the act in a manner admirable and noticeable enough to wake up half the street. After some kerfuffle involving extinguishing the houseplant and a lot of gibberish explanations, Callum’s parents decided enough was enough and they were going to the doctors, or to A&E, or to anyone who could possibly help. Fitting into the car was a bit of a pain, but with Callum gaining a bit more control over the arm itself, they were eventually able to set off. The journey itself was more difficult. “It’s left here!” Jessie held out a hand. “Look at the traffic. It’s not going to work.” “Well the other way’s also blocked.” Kane rolled the window down and peered out as best he could. “What on earth’s happened? Today of all days.” “This is going to take us hours.” Jessie shifted the gears. “I’m turning round. There has to be someone-“ “Watch out!” HONK Both their car and the other car zooming towards them turned in the same direction, sending them both crunching up onto the pavement. The alarms went off instantly, and the other driver pulled himself out, his hands on his head as he surveyed the damage. “Oh god, oh god, I’m so...my system, it just...it crashed...” Kane turned around, glaring at the other man. “Shut up and help me.” The two worked together, pulling out Jessie through the passenger door, who had a few grazes but nothing more, and Callum, who was overall fine. Aside from the obvious. The other man jumped back when he saw the boy’s arm, and Callum pulled the dressing gown further around it, his face turning red. Jessie was sat down on the verge beside the road, her head in her hands. “This is outrageous. Of everything that could be going wrong..." “We’re not the only ones.” Kane pointed in the direction of the massive tails of traffic, which had now slowed to a complete stop, with people getting out to survey the damage. “The other guy just told me. Three accidents up in town. Two major ones on the dual carriageway as well. Everything’s gone to a standstill.” Callum became aware of people staring, and he turned away, trying to shield the huge appendage from view. In the distance he could hear sirens blaring away, not that anyone could get anywhere at this point in time to help. He jumped, as a thought crossed his mind. Gingerly he pulled the blanket up, watching the screen as it flickered black, then white, then black again... He raised his free hand. “Excuse me? Mister?” The man turned, looking highly distressed. “I...uh...” “What happened? To your car? How did it...you said something crashed?” The man raised his arms high. “The electrics just went all fuzzy. Nothing would respond; the brakes locked and the steering wheel jerked all around. I had to pull myself off the road to stop.” Kane sat down by his son, his face grave. “You don’t think...” “Everything’s my fault?” “No.” Kane grabbed his son’s head, turning it towards him. “You’re a victim here. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.” “Sir?” The two looked up and jumped to see a man and a woman, standing above them, both wearing what looked like official uniforms. Kane bowed his head. “Officers, it was an accident from both of us. Please can you-“ “Not that. We don’t have time.” The man, with a close-cropped black beard and a chiselled, handsome face covered with a pair of half-moon glasses, looked behind him. “Everything’s at a standstill. That’s probably for the best at the moment. Nobody else can get hurt for now.” He turned back, and held his hand out towards Callum. “We need you to come with us.” “Wait!” Jessie rushed forwards, planting herself between the officer and her son. “He’s done nothing. We were taking him to a hospital or...somebody...” The other officer – a short and very muscular blonde woman with a ponytail and wearing a utility vest – whispered something to the man, who turned back, ushering the crowd away. The woman put her hands behind her back, her face solemn. “We’re somebody.” “You’re not taking my son!” “Please...we just need to-“ “I won’t allow it.” The woman leant forwards, grabbing Jessie’s arm and pulling her up the verge, out of earshot. She leant forwards. “With all due respect, do you really think there’s anything a hospital can do now?” Jessie was shocked into silence. Callum reached up, and grabbed her hand, pulling himself up. “Mum, I think...” “You two should come as well. It’s...” The man looked down at the woman, in a gaze that said everything it needed to. “It’s complicated.” Callum shrugged his aching shoulder, and pulled the metal arm up away from the ground. “Jess, Dad...let’s go.” The bearded man smiled. “I’m Keble. My colleague here is Skelton.” 
Kane winced. “You too intense for first names or something?” Skelton rolled her eyes. “Wasn’t our idea. Please just roll with it.” Keble pointed down next to Callum, where the block of metal was jerking around wildly. “Would you like a hand with that? It’s a bit of a walk from here to the van.” “I can manage, thanks.” “Suit yourself.” The group of them set off down the path together, avoiding the accusatory looks from the row of cars beside them. From the distance came the sound of blaring sirens, and the distinct smell of burning. Callum looked back the whole way, his stomach sinking further with every step as he watched the town he love begin to fall apart at the edges. His arm dangled down uselessly; an ever-present reminder that this was not a dream, although it was certainly a nightmare. They finally reached the transport; a large truck; dark grey, and mostly unassuming, but completely unlabelled. Skelton lowered the back, and helped Callum’s parents on, followed by the boy himself. The inside was exactly how Callum imagined it to be; empty, yet oppressive, and with the distinct smell of damp canvas. There were a few benches bolted to the floor, and a couple of mattresses in place. Dim spotlights were fixed above, leaving some light, but nowhere near enough to make the place look attractive. Skelton stepped off the platform, and looked back in apologetically. “Sorry for the conditions. We don’t have much budget.” “That’s not very reassuring.” Jessie looked down, her eyes red with exhaustion. “Where are we going?” “We can’t really tell you. Not exactly.” She nodded at the mattresses. “I’d get some rest if you can. It’s a fair ride to Cardiff.” She clicked a button, and the back of the lorry closed up, leaving the three of them alone. Jessie sniffed, and Kane shuffled closer, putting his arm around her. Callum just lay down on the bench, staring with bitter hate at the arm that had wrecked his life so quickly. The room rumbled, the lights flickered briefly, and the lorry growled into life. The Becketts merely sat in silence as they were driven off, to where, they did not know. After the long drive, the facility at the end of the journey was oddly welcoming, albeit in the way a hospital feels welcoming. Callum walked through brightly-lit corridors, past attractive paintings and gardens with strange sculptures. Everything felt too pleasant. Clinical. Fake. It didn’t help that they were right in the middle of heck knows where, and there were reminders amongst the artistry of the serious nature at hand. Stacks of papers. Lists of names he didn’t recognise. TV screens showing repeats of events from a year ago, including a blurry overhead photo of a huge blue monster facing off against six monstrous-looking warriors. The more he saw, the more concerned Callum felt. They sat him and his parents down, and asked him questions. And more questions. They tried to get into the device, but had no luck. They shone lights in his eyes, tried to connect with the device, attempted to get an X-ray of the offending implement (which failed spectacularly as the machine promptly let off a whine and several trails of white smoke), changed doctors and nurses multiple times and threw around so many large and worrying words that Callum felt as if he was in a lecture on quantum theory. Some of the words he recognised though, and they concerned him even more. Anomaly. Disturbance. Conjoined. Amputation. He felt sick. After needing to go and relieve himself, he returned to find his parents had disappeared. He stared around, unsure what to say, but the doctor beckoned him forwards. “It’s alright. They haven’t left the facility; just in another place while we...figure this out. We want to ask them a couple of things as well.” The examination grew more intrusive, yet less productive than ever. Once or twice the arm would jerk, but nothing of value came. It was getting late, and Callum realised that he’d been there for several hours. The doctors and nurses kept smiling, lending reassuring words and allowing him breaks, but he could see the bags under their eyes and the signs of stress creeping in. And they kept changing, again and again, as if for every failure they were being carted out and replaced with somebody else fresh-faced and naive. He found himself wondering whether it was good manners to save his panic attack for after the moment when the medical professionals had theirs, or whether he was allowed some sort of head-start, given, you know, the arm the arm the motherfucking arm how the fuck could this ever happen to me . At this point, he was even seriously considering the amputation. There was a knock on the door, and Keble poked his head round. “It’s after hours. You should all stop.” He turned to Callum, and gave a weak smile. “Long day?” Callum glared at him, but the man shook his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. If you’ll let me, I’ll show you to your room.” “Room?” Keble gave a knowing look to the medics, who promptly packed up, shut everything down, and left, leaving just the boy sitting there. Keble helped him up, and together they made their way back down the corridor. Callum’s eyes glanced to the left, and he noticed the equipment at Keble’s belt, some of which looked highly dangerous. He caught the man’s eye, and looked away. “You’re not normal police, are you...?” “It’s a difficult line of work.” “And I’m not going home.” The man shook his head. “Sorry. We need you to stay. You shouldn’t really be near populated areas in your current condition. We don’t know what’s going to happen.” He pointed behind him. “Your parents will be in a hotel about a mile away. You won’t be alone.” The boy looked up in desperation. “What’s happening to me?” The man stopped, and stared ahead, the wheels turning in his head. He smiled again, a little wider this time. It seemed to be his go-to defence mechanism. “We don’t know exactly. But we’ll let you what we have figured out tomorrow.” He walked to the next door, and swiped a card, before handing it to Callum. “I’ll warn you now, it could be quite a shock. You should probably get some sleep, if you can. Or prepare yourself.” He pointed at his chest. “If you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall.” Callum watched him go, and immediately felt a pang of loneliness. He’d taken a liking to the kindly guard, or soldier, or...possible SAS-trained mercenary? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to ruin the illusion by asking. The room was a step up from the lorry, with a proper bed, basin, kettle, a few snacks and a small en-suite. There was a mounted TV as well, but as Callum suspected, it didn’t work with him in the room. Nice thought though. The shower thankfully did. Callum was initially reluctant to go inside, worried about the clear electrocution hazard that was impossible to mitigate. But the device was as oblivious to hot water as it was to most everything else, and frankly Callum needed the time to stand there in the stream and do his usual deep philosophising, having been deprived of the opportunity this morning. He also became aware that all this time he’d still been wearing what remained of his pyjamas, which in choice areas were now beginning to resemble marshlands in both appearance and odour. Thankfully that had been considered as well; a series of shirts, t-shirts and shorts had been left out for him, along with the essentials. The shirts had even been given the necessary adjustments to deal with his current predicament; a series of Velcro straps up one side, and a large flap over the top, which attached underneath like half a poncho and covered up the nasty transition point of flesh to metal. They really had thought of everything. Callum lay in the low light, staring up at a white ceiling. An attempt had clearly been made to nice up the room somewhat, but the scribbled decorations and rushed wall transfers did little to quell the fact that he was in solitary confinement, many miles from home, in a situation he knew nothing about. He shifted, and felt the movement of his arm once again, now somewhat familiar. The screen would not let up, still spouting out gibberish. He frowned, and concentrated, trying to lift it up completely under his own will. Nothing happened. “Come on, you sod. You wanna be my arm, you can do what I say.” The device juddered, and lifted an inch. Then another. Then it shot up at a ninety-degree angle, so quickly that Callum was nearly thrown off the bed. The hand-area was going haywire, the rods and plates moving up and down as if he were typing in mid-air. The screen glowed white again, but this time Callum didn’t scream. He stared in the low light, trying to make out what was going on. “What are you after...” The hand opened wide, and the area around the end seemed to distort the air, forming a wobbly circle. It shimmered, almost like liquid, and the screen turned bright white, showing strange symbols that flickered across. “Come on! Talk to me!” Callum gritted his teeth, and whacked the device with his other arm. This had two effects. One, it caused him to yell in pain and put his smarting fingers in his mouth. The second, and more interesting, was that the symbols shifted, flicked into alphanumerics, before finally spelling out a somewhat coherent sentence. Not much. But a start. “Send hellp.” Before Callum could question anything, the shining circle popped like a bubble, and the arm fell back down, bouncing a couple of times on the mattress. The boy thought about asking questions, but in his head and heart he knew there was really no fucking point. Keble knocked on Callum’s door at a time slightly before what is civilised on a Sunday morning, and asked him to get ready. Callum thought about telling him about the debacle the night before, but he figured there would be time to do that later. Or perhaps they could even tell him. He might even learn something for once. He got up, changed his garments, and soon enough found himself walking back down the corridor with the forcibly-happy man, feeling still dazed and confused, but at the very least far more at ease with the situation. “So why did you bring me here? Aside from the...how did you find me so quickly?” Keble swung his keys as they turned a corner. “It wasn’t you we were looking for. As you probably figured out this isn’t a hospital or a military station, though it is government funded.” He nodded at an out-of-order lift with a door missing and a panel missing and to be completely honest the whole lift missing, and instead they made their way towards the stairs. He smirked, “As you can see.” “But what do you actually do here?” “It’s...complicated.” “You said that yesterday. I’m not asking for your relationship status.” “Are you familiar with the Digital World?” Callum blinked. “Like...Facebook, or...social media or something?” “I’ll take that as a no. It’ll be easier to explain once you’re all together.” “All? There are more people here?” Keble looked down at him, and stuck his chin out to one side. “You figured out that your arm messes up technology, right?” The boy nodded as they reached the second floor, and moved along an outdoor corridor towards the next complex. “It wasn’t just you. Your whole town came to a standstill yesterday, but it was just your town. That’s what we picked up. We can detect sort of...major digital anomalies where we are, all over the world.” He stuck a finger out. “You were one, but we got five signals at about midnight on Friday, just suddenly appearing.” Callum looked down at his arm. “So that’s when it happened. And you brought everyone here?” “We had to. You’re dangerous. Not intentionally, but...you know.” He stopped by a large double-door, and fumbled on his key-fob, looking for the correct one. Callum shuffled his feet, looking outside the window, before asking, “So, uh, does everyone have weird arms?” “Not exactly.” “What then?” “You should be able to ask her that. She is in your class, after all.” The door slid open, as Callum blinked, gawping slightly. “Her? What do you mean my class?” The guard smiled his usual seriously false-looking smile, and nudged the boy forwards into the room. “I’ll let you sort that out. As I said, it’s complicated.” The door closed far too quickly, and Callum stared into the waiting room. It was slightly roomier and airier than the rest of the complex, and the far side had proper windows that gave a great view of the valleys. There were simple couches and stools all around, although not much else. A single person sat inside, on one of the couches, with her hands folded in front of her. Her hair was short, black and incessantly curly, and her face was child-like; dark-skinned, with a flat button nose, a rounded chin and bright green eyes. She would have looked quite cute had it not been for the permanent scowl on her face and the current glare of many, many painful deaths she was currently giving Callum. Both her arms were alright, as was her left leg. Her right one, however, was a different story; significantly longer than the other, encased in rough metal, rolling joints, and the same wires and buttons that adorned Callum’s arm. There was even a screen where her toes should have been, currently flashing red and reading WARNING over and over again. The girl shifted round, and rolled her neck. “What the fuck are you looking at?” 
Callum was tempted to obey that warning, for he did know this girl. She was Eleanor Graeme, and she was indeed his classmate, as well as his one-time friend, and now his eternal tormentor, and constant threat to his continued survival. Yes indeedy. It certainly was complicated. Callum rocked back and forth on his feet. He was aware that his arm was pulling down on him quite heavily, and he really fancied a sit-down after the long walk. But then again, he really didn’t want to be here, alone, with this girl. He shuffled over, impossibly slowly, as Eleanor simply shrugged her shoulders and looked the other way. Callum sat himself down, and hoisted his arm up, so it was taking up most of the sofa. For a moment the two of them sat in silence, with only the sounds of the clock, and the increasingly annoying blips and beeps of their mechanised limbs, to pass the time. Eventually Callum could stand it no more, and ventured forth into conversation. “Are you okay?” Eleanor’s head snapped round, and she scowled, “What do you bloody well think?” “Sorry.” The girl pushed herself further into the seat, and grumbled under her breath, “Just my luck. Get stuck with this thing on me, and find that you’ve got it as well.” She glanced to the side. “Yours is better. At least you can walk.” “It’s heavy, you know.” “So is mine.” “And it keeps doing weird stuff on its own.” “Ditto.” As if in response, Eleanor’s leg twitched, and began emitting intrusive beeps. “Shut up!” she shouted at the offending appendage, and she stamped it on the ground. Hard. “Nobody cares!” Despite the atmosphere, Callum couldn’t help but laugh. Eleanor glared at him, and he immediately stopped. “Look, I know you don’t like me right now, but can’t we...you know...get past it? Temporarily?” Eleanor stamped her foot again. “Just ‘cause we’ve both got metal shit stuck to our bodies doesn’t mean we can go on a happy bonding experience together. You don’t like me, I don’t like you, let’s just get through this, get this shit off and go back to hating each other like normal people.” Callum blinked, and scratched behind his head as he groaned, “Good to see this experience has changed you.” “Bugger off.” “Fine.” Callum tried to fold his arms, then realised that one of them wouldn’t fold, and settled with his hand in his pocket. “I don’t want to be here anyway.” They sat in relative quiet, with an occasional outburst by each of their devices in turn, and a subsequent banging of it against something solid to shut it up. It was awkward, and immensely boring, but it beat getting into more arguments for the sake of it. Callum’s arm started fidgeting, and Eleanor reached over and whacked it on the back of the hand(?), causing it to lie still. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it.” “I-“ “I said don’t.” Callum sat back. “Has yours been...you know...” Eleanor sighed, and pulled her leg towards her slightly. “I’ve seen things. On the way here, it opened something...weird.” “Like a window or a...portal?” “Dunno. My mum freaked out. They brought me here on my own. I didn’t get a chance to ask.” “Oh.” “It causes problems, apparently. Messes with the electricals or some shit. All over the town.” “Really? It’s that bad?” “That’s what the lady said. Just powerful weird surges coming from our neighborhood and knocking out stuff all over.” “Damn.” “Well...” Eleanor leaned back, putting her hands behind her head and rocking her free foot back and forth. “I didn’t ask for this. Guessing you didn’t either. You’re not that much of a dumbass.” “Thanks?” Callum wriggled the end of the arm slightly, staring down at it. “I wonder what happened to the others?” “Others?” “Keble...the guy I was with said there were five of us? Maybe?” As if to answer the question, there was a beep, and the door slid open. This time it was Skelton, with another figure behind. Skelton smiled at the two. “Having fun?” Aware that the both of them were shooting daggers at her, she stood back and coughed, “He’s had a problem as well. Come in, Martin.” The kid entered the room, and Callum and Eleanor just stared. Then Eleanor burst out laughing. Even Callum sniggered a little under his breath. Skelton rolled her eyes, and shut the door, leaving Martin inside, his face going decidedly red. “It’s not like yours are much better!” he blurted out. Eleanor stopped cackling, and wiped her nose. “That’s...that’s...” “Unfortunate?” Callum bit his lip, and nodded, smiling awkwardly. “Suddenly I don’t feel so bad.” Martin Mai was short - even shorter than Callum - Vietnamese, and quite portly. He had black hair, cropped close to his scalp, a wide nose and blue-grey eyes, over which he wore square-rimmed glasses. He too had been afflicted by the massive metal thing stuck to the body condition, though the good news was that he had retained the function of both his arms and both legs. The bad news was the huge metal orb that seemed to be in the process of swallowing his torso. Two block-ish segments poked out from where his shoulders should have been, and another from the middle of his back. The screen was in the centre of his chest, currently showing random squiggles. The skin affliction seemed somewhat worse with him, with metal trails riding down his upper arms, and up from his chin over his cheeks. Still, he gave a half-hearted grin, and raised a finger as he inquired, “Mind if I sit down?” “Can you?” “Er...ish...” He waddled over, swaying as he did so. His legs were clearly struggling with the massive weight of the thing, and his arms were half-stuck, with only his forearms able to move freely. As a result he found it hard to balance himself, and currently impossible to even see where his feet were. Callum shifted over and helped the boy down, where he crashed into the sofa with more force than he intended, causing all three of their devices to go into overdrive. “Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it.” Eleanor growled. “When I find whoever did this I’m going to ram their face into a lawnmower.” Martin leaned forward as best he could. “I don’t suppose either of you have any actual confirmed answers for what the heck is going on, do you?” Two low grumbles confirmed his suspicions, but Martin smiled, clasping his hands. “My theory is it’s that portal,” he said. Callum gave him an exasperated look. “What?” “That portal. You know, the one in England. It’s messing up the electrics and made us fuse with our own electrical devices.” There was a short pause, and Eleanor leant forwards, giving him a half-quizzical, half-I-can’t-quite-believe-you-just-said-that stare. “So, because of...whatever that thing on the coast is, people are suddenly fusing with machines?” Martin grinned, and rubbed beneath his nose. “It has to be.” “That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in the last two days and I spent a morning with my mum telling me to take paracetamol for this thing.” Callum nodded. “Yeah, I don’t really understand how science works but I don’t think that’s it.” “Don’t be a kiss-arse, Callum,” warned Eleanor, narrowing her eyes. “I wasn’t. I was just agreeing.” Martin squinted. “Well what are your theories then?” Callum shrugged, then winced as the act of the shrug put more stress on his shoulder than he had intended. “Don’t really know.” “There must be something. Aliens? Alternate dimension? Maybe it’s a virus.” Eleanor’s leg started beeping, and she stomped it down again. “I really couldn’t give a flying fuck how this thing got on my leg. I give much more of a fuck as to when and how it’s coming off, and frankly I don’t wanna think about anything else until then.” She swivelled round, facing the other way. Martin cooed at Callum, “She’s nice.” “She’s a royal pain.” “If this is an experiment then I think they chose the wrong subject.” Callum shrugged. “Well, unless they wanted to find out whether a machine could be powered by pure dumb anger.” The two of them snickered, and Eleanor sat up, folding her arms. “I can and will end both of you right here and now.” Thankfully any potential fatalities were interrupted by the arrival of Keble with the fourth member in tow. The guard nodded at each of them as the new girl waddled inside with even less stability than Martin. Callum blinked; he definitely recognised her, but he was struggling to place her name... “Ursula?” This came from Martin, who seemed somewhat shocked. “What happened to you? You’re barely in class.” That would explain it. The girl had only entered their class this year, having recently arrived from Germany, but for the majority of the term she’d wander in and out as she pleased; often late, and sometimes skiving completely. Ursula glared at the shorter boy, promptly shutting him up. She grunted, and the door shut behind her as she rocked slowly towards them. She was tall, far taller than Callum had ever seen her, although that was usually due to her normal position being incredibly hunched over. Now she stood up completely straight, revealing broad shoulders and a long face; Roman nose, royal blue eyes and rough, ginger hair that just reached her shoulders. At first glance she didn’t seem to have much the matter with her. Obviously the baggy clothes being pulled backwards in an awkward fashion were a clue, as were the short rods of metal protruding from behind her head. Eleanor sat up, and raised her hands in protest, “Oh come on! You’ve barely got anything to complain about!” “Shut up.” Ursula’s glare moved to Eleanor, then at each of them in turn. She said little, so Callum coughed, and shifted up on the sofa a little. “Do you wanna sit down? It’ll probably be easier on you.” The eyes narrowed even further, and Callum shrunk back a little. Ursula spoke, in a voice that was heavily accented but all too clear. “I can’t.” She exhaled loudly, and rocked herself around, revealing her back. Callum went red. “Ah.” “Idiot.” Ursula had not been spared the humiliating and debilitating metal boxes. Hers was a doozy; clamped all the way up her back, her neck, and poking over the top of her head. Callum and Martin could see the unnatural shapes bulging beneath her jacket where the box clamped around her torso, like some sort of giant grotesque beetle. On closer inspection it didn’t even stop there, as further rods made their way down her hips, across her shoulders, and around her waist, where the screen was located as if it was a utility on the world’s least practical belt. Martin coughed. “Well...it’s gotta be good for your posture.” Ursula’s response was to walk over to the bookshelf and throw several hardbacks at him at a frightening speed, much to the amusement of Eleanor, and the annoyance of Callum since a few of the manuscripts missed Martin and struck him. Eventually the book barrage stopped, and Ursula turned around, leaning against the wall. Her face was red, and she didn’t make eye contact. But her appearance had triggered a thought in Callum. “Why are they all in different places?” Martin turned round. “What, the machines?” “That’s four of us but they’re all different. It’s like somebody put them here on purpose.” Eleanor put her hands behind her head. “Maybe we’re supposed to use them for something.” “Like what? They don’t do anything.” Callum poked a few of the buttons on his arm. “At least mine doesn’t. Not much.” Ursula raised her arm. “If you’re not using yours I’ll swap.” “Er...I’d rather not.” Callum smiled sheepishly. “No offense.” The girl smiled, but her face dripped with sarcasm. “I insist. It will be fun.” “Didn’t you say there were five of us?” Ursula tutted, and looked away; clearly offended at having been interrupted. Eleanor had posed the question to Callum, who scratched his chin. “I think so? Keble said there were five signals.” “I wonder who got lucky.” Eleanor grinned. “Shall we place bets?” Martin leaned forwards. “You think it’s someone from our class?” Ursula piped up again. “Probably. We don’t have anything else in common.” “What a weird way to pick people.” Callum sighed, “No, Martin, ordering people by favourite pudding is ‘a weird way to pick people’. This goes beyond weird; this is just...wrong.” The other boy shrugged, his rotund device bouncing up and down again. “At least we can talk about it. And we’re not in any pain.” Ursula blinked, staring at the boy. “You are an annoying ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” “I didn’t mean...ah dear...” Martin looked among them. “It’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” The door opened, and Keble came in once again. His face was slightly grimmer this time, as he stepped aside. “This is, uh...she’s the last one.” A small hand went to the doorframe, and a figure walked slowly inside, waving her hands in front of her. Everybody just stared, all smiles and joking immediately gone. Keble coughed, and stepped outside. “Look after her, alright. We’ll...be back shortly to try and explain things.” The door shut quickly. Eleanor was the first up, and she and Callum helped the newcomer down onto the sofa. Ursula put a hand over her mouth, and looked away. Martin simply stared, aghast. She sat, her head down, staring at the ground. Possibly. It was hard to tell, for she too had been taken over by a machine, but in the worst place by far. Her slight body and pale brown skin were offset by the great metal monstrosity engulfing her shoulders. Her face was invisible, swamped with buttons and wires and panels. There was only a screen, stuck on the front, which, in some sick joke, was currently showing a sad emoticon. The device beeped, and let off a bunch of static which was clearly meant to be words. It was horrific. The others just stared at the tiny girl sitting before them, muted and faceless. “...Lorelie...?” The kindest girl in class flinched. The great machine bobbed up and down in a tiny nod. Then again. And again as her shoulders began to shake. A soft static sounded from beneath the screen, and the emoticon turned into a weeping one. Callum reached out and put his free arm on her shoulder. Nobody said a word until the guards came back. TO BE CONTINUED... |