First Fleet (P3)

First Fleet (P3)

Taylor woke up. She couldn't move her arms or legs and had difficulty focusing her eyes. She stared straight ahead, trying to make the shapes look like objects once more. All she could feel was the stale still cool air around her darkened cell. As soon as she tried to move, a sudden bolt of electricity rushed through every neve in her body, almost causing her to yell. She couldn't move her mouth and could hardly breathe.

"Wake up!" someone growled from the back of her. Her breath was going in short sharp gusts now, hoping that she wouldn't be punished by her invisible captors for the crime of being alive. She shivered as one of them moved closer to inspect their catch. They silently hovered over her, shining a big black torch in her eyes. Taylor jumped back, her eyes still not used to light. The sudden movement of her head activated the collar around her neck and sent another judder through her body. She yowled and cowered beneath the shadows.

"Another common thief". Wouldn't it be better to kill 'em all off? Let God deal wi' 'em." The first man yelled. Taylor was trying to figure out his accent. Probably from one of the southern states of the Commonwealth. They took another inspection of her, turned away and locked the door. The frightened woman sat down in her cell. Chances are they'd just leave her there and rot, a cheap and effective way of getting rid of the great unwashed. A few more hours passed and Taylor just lay there. A few plastic cups were shoved through a hole and she moved her trembling arms, savouring every drop of the precious liquid. The beggar could feel her strength starting to return. Still, she dared not risk movement. There would be sensors and monitors galore in this cell, reading every single movement in her body. The moment that she even thought about escaping, she'd drown in a sea of robots, lasers and guards.

Meanwhile…on the other side of town, Flick had pulled outside her home. It was a classical style mansion, full of faux Gothic towers on the outskirts of the city, overlooking a very rare patch of green grass. The fields that surrounded the mansion were Flick's favourite place, a place where lone could forget about the world and just lie back and imagine how things once were. She was by herself for precious few moments each day and she valued privacy. "FELICITY! HOMEWORK!" came the shrill cry of her mother. She flinched. Oh how she hated the name Felicity. It made her think of doilies and seemed to be an old-fashioned name.

"Coming!" she sighed, as she trudged back to her house, the size intimidating her. She was a small girl, and one who liked cosy spots to curl up in. Even though she was wearing her computer on her wrist, her parents still wanted her to sit in her study and stare at blank wall for hours on end to improve herself. So, she sat there, hour in and hour out, making notes about past wrongs and how the world was now a happy place full of sunshine, that formulae made up the known universe and the importance of speaking ones thoughts into a little plastic tube to announce one's position on a given topic. But you could never speak your mind with those things, could you? Ever since the beginning of time, those free-wheeling essays where you express yourself fully, knowing the answers they want, parroting their answers down to a fine art, making sure that you knew what they wanted to know before putting mind before screen.

Several hours later, Flick was tired. There were only so many times that you could repeat the same answers over and over again until you got quite tired of repeating yourself. Flick was not fond of school, with its regimented ideas and we know best ideas of the teachers. A quick call to dinner from downstairs interrupted Flick's thought train. She swept down the stairs, looking out of place in her old t-shirt, against the wooden panels and marble staircase. Both her parents were smiling around the table, as the automated cooks sped off silently, their robotic arms drawing back within them. If there was one thing in this world that was guaranteed to bring Flick downstairs quickly, it was food. As she munched through her chicken roast (perfect as always), her father tried to strike up talk about school. Flick muttered assurances that she was fine as she tried to eat. No need to tell him about all the –other- things that she got up to during her time at school.

Flick couldn't help but notice the tension at the table. Her parents were shifting glances at each other all the time, turning their faces away from her at every possible moment. Well, if they knew she was setting up a protest movement on the Net during school time, they'd have even more to worry about, so she didn't give away a sign that anything was up. She excused herself without finishing her food, and ran back up to her room, trying to ignore the clatter of the dishes being taken away.



Meanwhile, Taylor was having a less than enjoyable time. She had just woken up, and was enjoying those few moments in the morning where you forget where you are. Then she remembers that she was in a prison, she hasn't seen the light in days, her food is placed through on lightweight plastic trays and she was wearing an electronic tag. Ah, such was the good life. As soon as she woke, a mechanical voice came over a hidden speaker, ordering her to stand. She struggled to stand, as her barely-used legs groaned underneath her body weight. She stood, while a small silver probe flew around her and inspected her body for any sign of hidden weapons. Satisfied that she wasn't hiding any weapon underneath her arms, it flew off. A series of locks clicked and a guard came to the door. A real guard this time, one with flesh and blood running through its veins instead of the usual automations that worked in this place.

"Get up." He grunted at her. Taylor tried to look up but was met by yet another spray of electricity from her neck. She hadn't noticed before but there was a metal collar around her neck. There was no doubt in her mind that it was giving her the electric shocks, to make sure that she knew how to obey. She moved down the hall. Her prison was a very old-fashioned one, with small stone cells connected by a steel walkway. She could see no one though the side of her eyes, but she was aware of a probe following every single move. It was almost as if she was being treated like a terrorist, but she had committed no violent crime. The prison echoed silently, but Taylor could feel the presence of other humans nearby.

One of the men pushed her head down low, so that she couldn't see anything else other than the floor, which was by now grey concrete. They were moving down a ramp now, and Taylor could feel dozens of invisible eyes set upon her. None of the guards had spoken to her, and her stomach was starting to feel like a raging storm. She swallowed to make sure that the bile stayed down where it belonged. After what seemed like a lifetime, she was led into a steel room. From her position, Taylor was unable to see that she was standing in front of a steel chair with shackles on the arms and legs, with several wires lying unused and dangling in the front. To older observers, it looked like one of the old-style electric chairs, but that was not the purpose of this one.

"Sit" a robotic voice commanded from a hidden speaker somewhere near the ceiling. Taylor looked up and saw the chair. Her legs turned to jelly as she tried to move herself forward before her hidden captors decided to give her a nice jolt of electric. She took her place as the shackles covered her legs and arms, and she started to scream. "Do not scream, Taylor Kiely." The voice droned. Taylor cried instead. Her fate would be decided by nothing but a computer. They'd ask a few questions, and decide if she was guilty on the spot. It took all the unnecessary emotion and expense of having actual humans decide the law.



"You are brought here under the charge of possessing private property that does not belong to you. Do you acknowledge this crime?" The voice repeated that statement in Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese. A guard came around and attached the electrodes to various points on Taylor 's body. His face and skin were covered, and he was wearing black gloves to take away any last remaining shreds of humanity. She flinched as the leather scraped across her skin, and the strange fibres of the electrodes were pressed firmly and attached to her skin.

"I do not accept." She whimpered as the man pulled her head down, forcing her to bend in front of an imaginary judge, jury and executioner.

"You were captured on our cameras with a foodstuff that was not purchased by yourself, nor that you had previous authorisation to use. Please answer a yes or no answer."

"Yes..But...I" Taylor stammered. She tried to argue her point but it was too late.



"We are now analysing your truthfulness. Please wait while your judgement is processed." Silence. Taylor could not see if there was a human presence watching over her, but she could feel it in her bones. Somewhere hidden above her was a camera, and she was nothing more but late night entertainment for some bored guard. Time passed slowly. She had no idea how long the computer took to decide simple matters. She started to sweat, her nervousness apparent to anyone watching over her.

"We have completed the judgement," the speaker said, in a surprisingly human emotion-free voice. "You are to be convicted of the crime of illegal possession of another entity's property. Do you wish to add to this judgement?"

Of course, Taylor wanted to add plenty to the computer's judgement, but there wasn't anything that she could say. They saw her with the food, the cameras recorded everything and there wasn't any chance to appeal. Computers simply did not lie. Taylor bit her lip, trying hard not to cry. Even as a guard took her away to her cell, she tried to look and stay strong.