Origins (Book 4 of Alfireán age)

Making Things Right

"Scan complete. Serum absorption rate at one hundred percent. Fever abating forty-eight hours ahead of schedule," a monotone male voice said as the blurry world around Alf came back into focus.

"Wake up dose injected," the voice continued as if reading off a checklist. "Subject, please raise your right arm."

Alf frowned. It appeared he was still in Mr. Brockovich's office, but he was no longer on the floor where he had collapsed. Instead, he now lay in a medical bed attached to the right wall. Transparent tubes ran the length of his arms, and sweat-drenched his silk clothes. His body ached as if he had run a hundred-mile marathon, and his mouth felt dry and parched as a desert rock.

"Subject, please raise your right arm," the voice prompted again.

Alf glanced to his right, where the voice originated from, expecting to see a face, but all he saw was a pair of sleek, silver, mechanical arms attached to the bed.

"Subject, please raise your right arm," the mechanical voice repeated a third time.

Alf blinked hard and used his right hand to rub his eyes.

"Consciousness confirmed," the voice declared and a strap over his chest released and zipped back into the bed.

"Subject, please sit up," the monotone voice told him.

Alf winced and squinted his eyes at the mechanical arms.

"Subject, please sit up," the talking arms persisted.

Rubbing his eyes once more, he slowly sat up and moaned. He hadn't felt this bad since Vackzilian had hit him with that orange lightning bolt. A clinking sound drew his attention to his chest where the crystal amulet, now hanging from his neck, bounced against his family's medallion.

"Running final scan," the voice alerted him. The talking arms whirred as they placed one of their silver hands behind Alf's back and one in front of his chest.

Green light briefly flashed from the metal palms. Then the arms lowered, and the voice exclaimed, "No anomalies detected. Project Inheritance complete. Initiating self-destruct," the voice declared chipperly.

"Wait, what!?" Alf exclaimed.

"Self-destruct initiated. Fifteen minutes to annihilation. Subject is advised to evacuate the facility immediately," the machine replied as the tubes in Alf's arms pulled away and zipped back into the metal framework in the wall.

"You can't be serious," Alf blurted, still feeling drowsy and dizzy from whatever the serum had done to him.

"Self-destruct initiated. Fifteen minutes to destruction. All employees must evacuate now," a recorded female voice declared loudly from overhead. "I repeat, self-destruct initiated. Fifteen minutes to destruction. All employees must evacuate now."

Suddenly, the bed dropped Alf onto the floor, and a whirring sound filled the room as it disappeared back into the wall.

Alf pushed himself to his feet and shook his pounding head. His forefather was certainly not one for niceties, he thought as he stumbled towards the office door.

Thankfully, with every step he took, he felt his strength returning, and by the time Alf reached the hallway, he broke into a jog.

Alf dashed down the dimly lit corridors, his heart pounding, fearful he might not remember the way out. But as he hurtled past the peeling paint, his memory kicked in, and he knew exactly where to turn. "Now that would've been a horrible tragedy," he muttered to himself, as a countdown began overhead, and an ear-piercing alarm blared through the hallways.