Program 12 Read Free Page A

followed closely with each step I took. “I’ll call you when I get home.” I turned around on the last step and smiled at him once more, still trying to force myself to leave. That was when the phone started buzzing again.
    "I’m coming," I whispered, turning towards the dark street in front of me.
    I began walking down the sidewalk, headed for an alleyway near my house. The streetlights were out, just like they were every night. Were they ever going to get those fixed? I wondered. Probably not. Fixing the streetlights did not seem like a priority. After all, they had been out for months now.
    I looked down at the uneven and cracked sidewalk, my hands in my coat pocket. The hood hid my blond hair from view. The world around me was quiet as everyone sought sleep. There were no children outside and no lights on in the houses lining the street. It was pitch black outside, peaceful even.
    The stillness crumbled as an engine roared to life behind me. Headlights flickered on, illuminating my surroundings. I could feel my heart pounding with fear. Walk faster , I told myself, just get the hell out of here .
    The alleyway was right in front of me; I decided to make a run for it hoping to avoid the car. But as I approached the alley, the car began to speed up. I kept running, my breath becoming more erratic with each movement. My chest was beginning to tighten. I was out of shape and I felt as though I was about to hurl. I stopped to rest, unable to go any farther.
    That was the worst thing I could have done.
    The second I stopped, the car plowed into me, knocking my body to the ground. I could feel the warm blood pooling around me. "No!" I tried to cry out, but my words got lost in my throat. My eyes began to blur; my eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. I tried lifting myself up, hoping to find help, but I was unable to move.
    Footsteps approached me followed by bits of laughter. Fighting to look, I saw two men stop beside me. Both were thin and pale. One looked older than the other, his face masked with wrinkles. The dark-haired one bent down to look at me, his lips turned up into a smile. “Perfect,” he whispered. The man took to his feet, making his way back to the black sedan.
    I could hear the trunk open, but I was not sure what they were doing. Why had they followed me? Were they going to leave me here to die? The two men were whispering. I tried to listen, but their voices were too low. Unable to fight any longer, I closed my eyes and lay in the blood pooling below my body. It was only then that I knew I was not getting out of here alive.

 
1 NOT A HUMAN
     
     
    The leather straps constricted my wrists forcing me to endure the electric current soaring through my body. With each jolt of energy, the wires beneath my skin buzzed, sending a shrill throughout my core. Programmed to respond to pain, my body flung forward involuntarily.
    “Pain is a natural reaction,” they told us. “It’s a part of being human. It is something you will better understand once your human identity is finally installed.”
    But no matter how much I might look human, I was not.
    I was a Program, a machine built to appear human.
    The straps dug into my skin, tearing it slightly. I could feel the cold brushing against the metal surrounding the wires beneath the break. The tearing didn’t hurt, but my Program reacted as though it did. The scientists wanted to see how we react to pain. They wanted to believe we were capable of acting human.
    This body, this skin, it was a cover for what I truly was.
    “They do not have enough experience with your kind,” the White Coats said. “We just want to make sure you are safe out there. This is your world, too.”
    At least, that was what they told me.
    “Program Thirteen,” a harsh voice called from behind the glass. I could faintly make out a shadow of the man as he held his clipboard in his hand, carefully checking each box indicating I’d passed my daily inspection. I was making excellent