Imprisoned for a crime she doesn't remember, she survives...
“Down, female, 7682R.”
The droid’s grating mechanical voice invaded the borders of my mind, setting my teeth hard against each other. A final blast of icy air from the suite’s jets meant to encourage me to move faster did the exact opposite.
The rebel in me itched to defy the automaton until a humanoid showed her face. However, the penalty wasn’t worth the temporary high of asserting my own will. My skin crawled at the memory of the waspmice. Dark pock-like scars still marred my legs from last time. I clamored out of the DS and padded barefoot across the slick floor to the cleansing stations on the far side of the room.
The android, a bulky P-73, stalked behind, whining through its exhaust hose. It probably worried I would throw another fit or fall into hysterics. I was allowed to remember a few bits from day to day, like incidents of rebellion and punishments. With drugs and therapy, they attempted to erase the rest.
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