The Imn
-Day 1264, Tower 508 log:
It has only been a little over three years since I came to tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering… tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job-
“To fight against…” to fight against…
I pause, my mind going blank; it feels wrong, but I can’t remember why. With a twinge of worry, I leave my daily log and hurry over to the radio. Has forgetfulness been one of the symptoms of the infection? Or was it just being stuck in a tiny tin can that was making me forget?
The levers and knobs of the radio are like old friends, and I quickly dial up Enya, my handler.
“Tower to Handler, are you there?”
Her reply is instant. Her deep throaty acceptance of my call has been the only other human voice I had heard since I entered the tin can.
“Handler to the tower I’m here, you're up early!”
Was I? I couldn’t remember.
-Day 1264, Tower 508 log:
It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering… tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job-
“To fight against…The Imn!... Yes, that’s right.”
The evil nanobot-like hive race that came to Earth 10 years ago. They infected everything they touched and turned living flesh into robotic circuitry. The towers were the last defense above ground. The remnants of untouched humanity burrowing deep beneath the earth.
The sound of claws scrabbling across the roof of my tin can catch my attention. It sounds like a bird, though I hadn’t heard one in months. I gently tiptoe to the bio scanner across from the radio. The machine wears to life at the flick of a switch, and I hold my breath hoping the bird didn’t hear.
The screen flashes red, and I confirm the action the computer recommends. With a sense of hopelessness, I make my way to the radio to report my findings. The bird will eventually fly away, on its journey to infect more living creatures. At least now it will be infecting them with the antivirus.
A tingle of hope still holds deep within me, but I’m afraid we are fighting a losing battle.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
-Day 1264, Tower 508 log:
It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering… tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job to fight against the Imn. Though like Rapunzel I am incredibly bored.
The screen light dims as I move away from it, leaving my journal to go dark. Instead, I take stock of my inventory as I do every day. There’s nothing concerning to report other than the strange amount of dust on my food rations. I don’t remember them being so dusty yesterday, but then I don’t really remember eating yesterday. I don’t think it’s worth mentioning to Enya.
-Day 1264, Tower 508 log:
It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering… tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job to fight against the Imn. Though like Rapunzel I am incredibly bored.
The screen light dims as I move away from it, leaving my journal to go dark. My foot catches on something, and I tumble to the floor with a loud clang that seems to shake the tower. Standing I find the culprit, a rusty bolt. It lies between me and the door. The door has been sealed since I took my position at Tower 508, but something seems wrong with it.
It's open!
Panic fills me as I hurry over to it. It’s not all the way open, the latch is still firmly in place, but shafts of sunlight stream through cracks that should be welded in place.
-Day 1264, Tower 508 log:
There is a man in my tin can. He is restrained by what looks to be homemade rope and gagged with a blue bandana. His eyes are hidden by a pair of glasses that look like they belong in an ’80s sci-fi movie, and he’s dressed for winter even though it’s the middle of August. Someone left him here like this, but who? I am going to remove his gage, but I have to admit I’m scared.
He flinches away from me as I reach toward him and remove the blue bandana from his mouth. It’s wet with his saliva, and I drop it immediately wondering if I have been infected.
“Listen to me. I know I attacked you last night, but I thought you were one of them. Well, I mean can you blame me, just look at you.” His words tumble out fast as he attempts to scoot away from me.
I open my mouth to ask what that’s supposed to mean but he doesn’t give me a chance.
“Look, just take my glasses and you’ll see that I’m human. The eyes always go first with the virus, yeah?”
Hesitantly I remove his glasses revealing the brownest eyes I had ever seen. He smiles at me, seeming satisfied with my reaction.
“Now put them on and take a look around.”
I do as he asks.
My surroundings, my tin can change before my eyes. Rust-stained walls… and the radio I had used just the other day-- broken and disemboweled. The only thing that looked to be working was my sleep pod and the bio scanner. Both are heavily corrupted by the Inm virus.
“Yeah, they get you in there, in the head but sometimes it doesn’t completely work, and some-- things get left behind.”
I hear him talking but nothing he says makes sense. I had only been here three years… hadn’t I?
“Now I don’t want to freak you out even more, but you should look at your hands.”
I look down. My fingers splay out in front of me, but they aren’t mine, not the ones I was born with. They had been replaced; I was an Imn.