A very nice story. Sounds a little bit like the Matrix, so I want too see what you can do\that keeps it different.

I know where I'd like to take it... But can't quite work out how to do it... And when I couldn't make progress with this one, I started another story... And am likewise locked up with that one. Might post it up a bit later too. Tristan ;-)

"[i]A hallucination is merciful. I wish I had it; I want mine back[/i]." A nice read :)

Amazing job Tristan, I especially like how you've set it in a real life situation and you've built it up into an amazingly intricate Story, do you have any plans for continuing it? [Edited on 06.16.2008 4:04 AM PDT]

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] squirrel dude This looks interesting just because it seems to be well written, and planned out. *plans to check out later*[/quote] Cheers. I had a fair idea of where I was going to begin with... But I got to this stage about a year ago and haven't been able to write anything else for it since :( Tristan ;-)

This looks interesting just because it seems to be well written, and planned out. *plans to check out later*

what the hell i'm not a robot you jerk

"Tell us what you know…" Mikka looked up again in abject horror at the thing that sat before her, fighting the rising bile in her throat as she examined the piecemeal cables and tubes piercing his body. Her eyes were growing more accustomed to the unnatural darkness of the interview room. Utter disbelief at what she was now seeing had stripped words from her mind, and bar her screams she had not voiced anything since the veil, so to speak, had been lifted from her eyes. The interviewer was growing irritated by her non-complacence. Again he began the line of questioning from the top, in his grating, computerised tones. "Tell us of Callum… of the Configuration… of your part in this terrorism…" The last word struck a chord in Mikka's mind. Everything these days was terrorism. Bombs blowing up schools overseas. Troops leaving for foreign policing duties. Economic crises due to global fear. All of these things were common to her, having been broadcast all over the media for the past few years. In recent months they'd even started conducting drills at her school, preparing them for bomb threats, shooters in the school, and even some martial arts classes to help with personal defence. "Tell us!" The discordant tones of the computerised voice seemed to strip her of any defences she had, laying bare her soul to this mechanical tormentor. Mikka trembled as she realised her mouth was moving, and words issuing forth, against her conscious will. The voice had control of her. "I don't know who Callum is. I only saw him a few hours ago during the incident. I'm not a terrorist! I don't even know what this thing is," her voice choked off as she desperately tried to regain control of her own body. The interviewers gaze intensified, and Mikka heard the scratching of some kind of radio frequency in her head. Then all resistance failed as she formed words she didn't know, replying in compliance to questions he hadn't even voiced. "Unit designation Mikka reports no prior dealings with terrorist suspect. Device does not register with any know Configuration equipment. Unit still unaware of Configuration operations past questions raised during interview." Air ceased entering her lungs as she tried to comprehend what she'd just done. Mikka had heard her own voice, but had no control over her own speech or over what was said. Dumbly, she gazed up into the interviewer's eye looking for answers. His features moved into what could only be assumed to be a look of satisfaction, and he relaxed back into the chair. "Unit designation Mikka," he spoke aloud this time, "wipe all memory pertaining to current events. Insert file 240b memory replacement, and reinitialise at home." The overwhelming fear and confusion of the present situation started to drain away from Mikka. She felt as though she were sliding into a warm bath, falling asleep as though her surroundings were familiar. She had to fight, something was wrong. The power this man seemed to have had to be fought, and defeated, if she were to remain as she was. Mikka had no idea why she knew this, but something inside her made her believe this was her last chance. Seconds passed and the man's look of pleasure slowly drained from his face. "Designation Mikka, comply with command." He leaned forward as though expecting her to answer again, but somehow she'd broken his hold. Something had clicked deep inside that prevented him from using her as he had before. With every ounce of her strength she focused her gaze directly into his eye, channelling her terror into blind hatred. "I will not -blam!- comply!" Just as the mechanical man started swelling his chest in fury the dark room erupted into sound and light. Orange lights, previously hidden in the dark recesses of the room, now cast shadows of their own as they spun. From somewhere in the room an alert frequency was issuing, so loud that Mikka moved her hands to her ears trying to shut out the noise. However the lights and sound faded into irrelevance as her fingers contacted her head and she realised why this dark new environment was so cold to her. Her fingers knocked her skull and she heard… The chi-nking sound of metal on metal… Tristan ;-) [Edited on 06.15.2008 7:53 PM PDT]

"You're desensitised… The world isn't how it used to be, nor as you think it to be…" Mikka contemplated what the man had told her, but not all of what he said made sense to her. She reached into her pocket, checking the device was still snug and safe. For now she just had to stay obscure, unknown. Can't be too difficult, she thought. The line leading was getting shorter. She judged about 20 minutes before the suits invited her into their interrogation room. Mikka's family were in front of her, but each of them was more interested in what was about to happen than what she had stashed in her pockets. Several people in the line ahead were discussing the events that had unfolded earlier, as though trying to get their story straight. A good way to avoid notice. As she searched the expressions of those around her, Mikka grew more and more distracted. As she searched the face of each person around her, something moved in the corner of her vision. It wasn't the movement of anything in her surroundings, but rather the surroundings themselves, as though the floor and walls hid their true nature when gazed at directly. She had to fight the urge to search out these fluctuations in her vision, because any nervous behaviour would attract attention. The more she fought the urge to look, the more her vision seemed taunt her. A dark, metallic colour was seeping into the white walls and cream coloured tiles of the shopping centre. A chill ran down her spine, and she felt goose bumps on her arms. "Nor as you think it to be…" Mikka shut her eyes, wrapped her coat tighter about her body, and tried to shut out the cold. There were no vents near her, and the shopping centre was normally heated at this time of year to keep out the winter cold. She opened her eyes to see the line before her gone; she would be the next one they talked to. Fear welled up from somewhere deep inside, knotting her stomach and making her feel ill. There was a harsh shout from somewhere behind the door in front of her and the nearest suit stepped forward and grabbed her arm. She winced again. Cold seemed to radiate from him hand, piercing straight to the bone. "Your time has come." There were four suits stand around the room, and another sitting at the table in front of her. The one sitting across from her was different. His expression was awkward, as though he had no control over his facial muscles. His pallid skin hung loosely from his skull and his dark eyes seemed to retreat back into his head. In fact, he seemed to radiate an inhuman aura. It was as though he was something else, some kind of creature, wearing a human-shaped costume. "Your name?" "Mikka… Mikka Tiernan." "Well Miss Tiernan… I'd like you to tell me what you know about the incident today." His voice was calm but had an eerie air to it. Mikka felt his dark eyes studying her as she gathered her thoughts. Felt the eyes staring into her, trying to find a weakness. "I don't really know anything. I mean, I saw what happened but it's not like I know who he was or anything." "Who?" "Well… The guy you were chasing of course," she suddenly felt as though she was revealing something without realising. "Is there a reason my parents aren't here? I'm supposed to have a guardian with me aren't I? I'm only 16." "There is no need for a guardian here. All of these meetings are conducted one on one to prevent you… altering… your story." As the man spoke his hands reached below the table, pulling something from the floor. A large black laptop with some kind of camera was now between her and the interrogator. He busied himself with the keyboard for a few minutes, adjusted the lens of the camera, and began to speak again. "Miss Tiernan, tell me what you know of Callum." "Who?" "Well… The man we pursued this afternoon of course." The corners of the man's mouth twitched a little, pulling up and out across his face. A smile, or at least a parody of one, now stretched across his face. The cold burrowed deeper into her body as she stared into his eyes. Once again Mikka caught movement in the corner of her eye. Before she could stop herself her eyes shot left and lost track of whatever had changed. She turned back toward the man before her and blinked, but when her eyes opened she was not looking at the man, or the table, or even the room she was sitting in. Images assaulted her vision, flashing images that she couldn't register. She fought to close her eyes, but something in her mind wouldn't let her, something was happening to her. As fast as the images had appeared, they were gone and she was once again sitting in the room, facing her interrogator. He hadn't moved. The same inhuman smile was stretched across his face, the same piercing dark eyes. The man leaned forward in his chair, shadows extending down his face. "Now," he sneered at her in a low tone, "we'd like for you to cooperate with our investigation, Miss Tiernan." Her gaze was fixed on the abyss of his eyes, and the longer she stared the more the world seemed to fall apart around her. Where previously she had seen brief glimpses of colour and movement at the edge of her vision, now she saw definite shapes, and it was expanding. The pastel colours of the room in the shopping centre were being torn away by the dark metal colour she'd seen before. The bright room she had been sitting in was now akin to a dungeon or cellar, dank and rusted. Instead of bright halogen globes, there were fluorescent bars across the ceiling, which seemed to accentuate the darkness that was building in the corners of the room. As she continued to stare at the man, he too began to deteriorate. His suit peeled away and was replaced by some form of plating, like an armoured suit with a dark red emblem over his heart. His skin grew paler, and she noticed various small pipes and wires piercing exposed areas of his skin. Finally the shadows around his face melted away. She was no longer staring at a face, but a mask. Where his lower jaw had been, there was now a large pipe connecting to a dark face plate which seemed to cover most of his head. His left eye was a red lens, which spun backward and forward, focussing on her face which was now torn between horror and disgust. Only his right eye remained. Still buried far back in his head. Still just as dark, just as piercing. It sparkled slightly, as though he was amused by her reaction to his appearance. One of his gauntleted hands slammed down on the table, denting the metal slightly. "Now Miss Tiernan," he spoke in a muffled, almost computerised voice, "I want you to tell me about Callum… About the device in your pocket… And everything he's told you about the Configuration…" Somewhere in her thoughts she heard Callum's voice... "You're desensitised... The world isn't how it used to be, nor as you think it to be..." Tristan ;-)

Mikka was not extraordinary. In fact, she was usually lost in the crowd, just another face almost identical to the next. If you saw her walking past you'd probably get a slight feeling of recognition, like she was someone you knew, but that would pass. She was nothing special. Compounding this fact of Mikka's dull, ordinary existence was the fact that she was one of 4 children, or rather, 4 girls. She was not the oldest, was not the youngest. She didn't have her older sisters silver tongue for getting out of trouble, nor did she have her younger, twin sisters' ability to blame their copy. Wedged here in the middle, she was fairly plain. What was not ordinary, however, was the events unfolding around her. A man, seemingly no more special than she was, raced past with incredible speed and just enough agility to avoid colliding with an older couple. His jacket streamed behind him like a cape, his expression a look of distress. It was not the man who really excited Mikka, but the men in suits who were pursuing. They were the kind of men you saw in movies, the kind who were FBI or secret service. Each one with a black suit, white shirt, black tie, black glasses, earpiece, and a gun. Now the gun is what really made Mikka stare. She'd never seen a gun up close before, and it scared her. As the men approached she cowered in fear, awaiting the noise and the death that was likely to follow, hoping that none of it was directed at her. Her discomfort lessened slightly as the men continued past her and ran towards the escalators, towards the man. "Freeze!" Why are they yelling that? she puzzled, her mind still racing with the thought of the weapons, He doesn't want to be near you, especially with those guns! The man now caught her attention. In fact, there probably wasn't anything that could have drawn her attention off him at that very moment. A marching band comprised entirely of animals, Santa, the Grim Reaper... Nothing was equal to what she now beheld. The man had spun around and was holding a small, rectangular item. It was large enough to be a reomte control for something, but oddly enough didn't look menacing at all, which was probably the amazing thing. Time almost froze for Mikka as she tried to comprehend how this man could turn and face so many guns with something as trivial as a remote. Mikka's family had joined the panicked mob, and now fled the scene as fast as their legs and belongings would allow. People scrambled in every direction, provided it led away from the man. An old lady fell and was trampled. A child, probably not older than about 4, was left crying by a pay phone. Mikka stood perfectly still. This atmosphere of fear and terror no longer had any effect on her. She was tranquil. This feeling which now overwhelmed her sense was not because of the device, nor the men in suits, and not even the guns which scared her. She was rooted to the spot because she could not tear her eyes from his. The man, whoever he was, now stared at her from his vantage point on the escalator. His look of distress was now gone, replaced with a warm smile. Time had stood still for Mikka as she stared into his eyes, an hour could have passed in that brief instant and she would not have known. The instant ended however as the man pulled his remote infront of his face, infront of the eyes she was so drawn to. There was no lead up, no sound, no fancy cominbation or action. Green light exploded from the device, consuming him. And then he was gone. Mikka knew he had gone long before she had finished blinking the flash out of her eyes. Somehow she had felt it, as though his eyes had applied a physical pressure to her and were now gone. A loneliness she could not describe with mere words now rose in her. Tears came to her eyes and her mouth went dry. She had lost him, without even knowing who he was. The suits scrambled around the shopping centre for several hours after he'd gone. People were detained for questioning, and items seized as evidence. Once again Mikka stood with her family, each of them complaining about what they'd witnessed, about the treatment they now recieved. Mikka just kept staring toward the escalators. As the line moved slowly toward the questioning room Mikka sighed. She wrapped her coat around her, fastened the buttons, and dropped her hands into her pockets. She froze. Her right hand met something that was not supposed to be there. Her pockets had been empty, but now something filled the void. Slowly she drew the item from her pocket. In her hand was a small, black, rectangular object. It was not unlike a remote you might use for a television or a stereo. It had several small buttons, a speaker, and a screen. As she stared, shocked at how this thing had come to be on her person, the item activated. The screen lit up. Gazing back at her through the device was the man. The one who had run past, who was being chased by them men with guns, who had stared at her and made her feel important. "Hello Mikka. I have a task for you..." What was said next was for Mikka, and for Mikka alone, because she was not extraordinary. In fact, you would lose her in a crowd or mistake her for someone else. She was nothing special. But now she had a purpose... Tristan ;-)