The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘ViCAP ALERT: UNIDENTIFIED PERSON’ The poster plastered all over the country read.

‘RACE/SEX: CAUCASIAN/FEMALE

AGE: 18-25 YEARS OLD

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5′8″/170lbs

HAIR/EYES: BLACK/GREEN

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: TATTOO OF ROSE ON UPPER LEFT THIGH. WISDOM TEETH REMOVED. SURGICAL SCAR ON RIGHT HIP.’

A black and white photo accompanied an equally eerie description. She wasn’t a wax reconstruction or a corpse like most in the ViCAP database. Sat straight up, staring ahead at absolutely nothing at all, an unidentified person was on display.

Her hair was styled to approximately resemble how she looked before it was tied away to make room for electrodes and surgically implanted cable ports, but the effort didn’t do much to make her seem more normal. That was an impossible task, when she was erect at a 90 degree angle and beamed a thousand-yard stare. The photographer even gave up on wiping her drool.

Forensic artists still had to make a composite image of what this woman would look like if she could smile, furrow her brow, or display any emotion beyond dazed and confused.

‘ON SEPTEMBER 13TH, 2024 AN UNKNOWN FEMALE WAS LIBERATED IN A RAID ON “HIVE” COMPOUND IN GEORGETOWN, OHIO. BASED ON CONDITION, FEMALE WAS KIDNAPPED LESS THAN SEVEN DAYS BEFORE. BELONGINGS RECOVERED, BELIEVED TO BE PROPERTY OF FEMALE, INCLUDE: BLACK TANK TOP (JUDAS PRIEST LOGO), FISHNET STOCKINGS, DOC MARTENS BOOTS (BLACK, BUCKLE), STUDDED CHOKER, MINISKIRT (BLACK, SILVER CHAINS).

’TO PROVIDE OR REQUEST ADDITIONAL INFORMATION, PLEASE : INVESTIGATOR LUCY R. STILLWATER, OHIO STATE POLICE, BUREAU OF CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION MIND CONTROL TASK FORCE.’

In truth, that was all the information even Detective Lucy had. And she honestly felt that talking to that poor girl wasn’t going to do much else but piss her off. She was left questioning just how someone so sick could have gotten that deep inside the woman’s head.

“Somewhere out there is someone who prays for your return every single day,” Lucy ed pleading, “They’re worried sick for you, and by now they’re probably thinking it’s too late. If you can your name, what street you live on, your birthday- Anything so we can give them a happy ending.”

The silence in the room after that almost made her shake.

The boys from Washington pushed for genetic sequencing, but the labs were swamped and could only give an optimistic estimate of 20 weeks until completion- Which didn’t even for cross-referencing the databases and ing living family. Lucy was willing to interrogate the mannequin if it yielded any possibility of getting the girl out of in-patient psychiatric care.

For now the ‘Cyber Doe’, a topic of endless speculation, looked like she was staring right through the universe.

It wasn’t uncommon to find women like this in a post-Hive world. A sad reality of the modern age was that roughly 5% of missing person cases were easily explained as mind control incidents. The curve ball was that Jane didn’t match any of the reports and had pretty generic dental records. They had a little to work with, but nobody was exactly combing the running list of every raven-haired woman to have ever received a hip graft.

Whoever she was, she was damn lucky the police came in when they did. Lucy still ed that night- the unforgettable moment where she breached an active Hive operation. Most civilians expected to see a scene straight out of a Borg cube, but reality was far more disturbing.

Hive compounds resembled hospitals more than anything. Their sterile and bleach scented interiors housed millions of dollars of technological infrastructure which snaked through the walls and beneath the floor, kept out of sight and mind. They were orderly spaces, owing to the fact that they were maintained by perhaps the most orderly “people” in the world.

It was amidst these plain white corridors and countless chambers filled with server racks that they found Jane in the Hive’s operating room. Wires poured out the back of her head like it was a USB hub, and electrodes dotted her temples; she looked every part of a crazed science experiment. A giant mechanical arm hung from the ceiling behind her, armed with a Synchronization Drive and poised to pounce.

It was a scene straight out of Lucy’s nightmares. The would-be drone’s eyes were dull and placid, much like they were now, yet her lips curled ever so slightly upwards. To Lucy’s horror, she wasn’t oblivious to the fate about to befall her- to the fact that she had a chassis installed through her occipital bone that was ready and waiting to be mounted- she seemed happy about it.

It was not an exaggeration to say that moment was the absolute last second someone could be saved. The assimilation process took roughly seven days. Seven grueling days that would begin with narcohypnosis sessions to erode a subject’s will to resist. On the third day the subject would be istered pleasure conditioning, designed to make the victim embrace the idea of surrendering to the collective “good.” Victims recovered at that stage could theoretically be reintegrated into society after a two week psychiatric hold. However, such people risked long term residual side effects that would impact their personality.

It was day four that victims were given surgical alterations. Four small ports, comparable to 3.55mm audio jacks, would be installed on the back of their skull which allowed for direct control and real-time cognition editing.

“They’ve got something iPhones don’t!” someone had joked at Lucy’s subsequent debriefing. A weak attempt at gallows humor that still made her blood boil.

Rehabilitation at this point would be difficult; how much was left of someone’s sense of self depended on how long and how often they were jacked into. Each connection resulted in more fragments of a subject’s ego and memories being extracted. Lucy had learned that the Hive always started small- stealing away the face of a kindergarten teacher or the name of one’s first pet. Then it would inevitably escalate to names, s, where they left their car keys, and the last time they showered.

This would go on and on until a victim was left just like Jane Doe. A nameless, amnesic, husk ready to be filled with anything.

That ‘anything’ would be a Synchronization Drive. There were no first-hand s of the SD’s effects- Not a single person installed with one ever had it removed, the advanced encryption on the lock mechanism made sure of that- but its victims were universally observed to move with cold, robotic, precision. Their wide eyes and gently parted lips could give them the appearance of a deer in headlights, yet Lucy knew there was something so much more sinister deep behind them.

The SD supplanted a subject’s consciousness completely. If a Hive victim were placed in a Faraday cage, they’d more than likely faint. Every bit of sensory input, all cognitive function, was run through the SD to be dispersed across the entire Hive population. The collective will of the network determined every course of action.

It truly was a terrifying device that had no place in the world. But it was also Lucy’s latest gambit. With no small amount of begging she was able to retrieve a harmless Synchronization Drive from evidence. When they’re manufactured, a Drive is locked in a stainless steel case until the moment it’s to be implanted. If it’s exposed to outside air for more than ten minutes the circuits will self-destruct, like the one she held in her hands did.

If Lucy’s read on the girl was correct, the SD was the one thing she desired in the world. It was the one thing that could rouse her into some sort of responsiveness.

The detective closed her case notes and put the computer to sleep, reaching for the bottle of pain relievers she kept on standby. Staring at the screen all day was giving her migraines but such was life in the twenty-first century. She stood up and primped her suit jacket, elegantly tailored and colored off-white to compliment her dark skin. Not a curl was out of place as they were held back by a fashionably patterned headband. She was ready.

With hope in her heart, Lucy steeled herself for the sight of Jane Doe before stepping into the interrogation room. Jane, for her part, seemed completely unvexed by the sudden appearance.

“Good morning,” Lucy started. She wasn’t sure if there was a helpless young woman in that head, but if there was she wanted her to feel as normal as possible. It was a sort of kindness that made Lucy a star on the Mind Control Task Force. None of her cases before had been as intense, but they were scared and confused and deserved to be treated like human beings no matter how much chrome was in their skull.

“They trust you with a plastic bottle now, so I got you something a little nice if you need a sip,” she smiled, placing the most expensive bottle of mineral water at the gas station before Jane. Jane didn’t notice.

“I’m glad the nurses got you out of those rags. And they gave you a nice pair of grippy socks, right?”

A quick peek under the table revealed the fabled grippy socks- A comfortable favorite of Lucy’s ever since she had an appendectomy.

“Good. Good.”

Jane Doe was otherwise adorned with a lapover patient gown, a stark contrast to the Hive’s rave attire she was brought in with. The silver tube top, with its accompanying choker harness and hotpants, was an eyesore of a uniform.

Lucy tactfully inserted silence before she reached for her suitcase.

“It’s not just the water, though. I was wondering if you could help me understand something.”

She gingerly lifted the piece of hardware and set it square on the table. To an older observer it would invoke a two inch floppy disk- rectangular with a chip out of one corner and s on the end. The body was silver, gleaming under the room’s fluorescent light, and in place of a magnetic disc was a larger circular piece of glass. Beyond that was anyone’s guess- It almost looked like the filament in an old light bulb, and it was believed to glow blue when active, but it was hard to make out anything past the stained foggy appearance of the self destructed specimen.

For the first time there was recognition in Jane’s eyes. They twinkled, coming ever so slightly into focus to look down at the device. She took the bait.

“Do you know what this is?”

“S-Synchro…” Jane half-moaned, her voice croaky and uneven. It must have been a month since she strained her vocal chords.

Lucy stifled the burst of emotions. Joy for such a breakthrough, anxiety for the road ahead, and rage at just how vacant Jane sounded.

“Yes, that’s right. It’s a Synchronization Drive. We’d like to know anything you think about it, we might learn something.”

The Doe sat still a moment longer, gears slowly turning in her addled mind. Vague recollections washed over her- Implanted during her many hours plugged into the Hive mainframe.

“Synchro-nization,” Jane spoke, splitting the word in two with her odd cadence, “Uni-ty.”

Click, click, came the sound of the handcuffs as the girl reached too far above the table. She could get no closer, but she was visibly straining to gain even an inch. Lucy hadn’t wanted to put Jane Doe in chains, but procedure dictated it and right now it seemed for the best.

“F-For… This one?”

The investigator instinctively slid the Drive backwards, away from Jane’s grubby claws. She had to pick her next words carefully- It wasn’t against the law to lie, and the promise of reward would certainly make the subject talk, but she had to consider if encouraging that desire was healthy in the long-run.

“We’re not sure. Do you think you’re ready for it?” Lucy asked.

Jane’s lip quivered.

“Stayed strong…! Captured. Told lies. Many many lies. This one stayed empty.”

She was proud that she had remained unresponsive. But more interestingly, she ed it. The Hive removed her memories and fully intended to replace her ability to make new ones, but she could still do so independently. Lucy underlined her notes three times.

Looking up from the stuffed binder, Lucy caught Jane’s unflinching gaze falling on the SD. With a sick sense of curiosity she decided to pick the object up and watch the girl’s eyes track it like a hungry dog. It would probably be harmless to let Jane hold it, but there was a chance she would try jamming it in her slot and damage the delicate internals that now held her brain together.

Lucy cautiously brought the Drive back into her attaché and out of view. Jane whimpered, shakily lifting from the chair towards it. Once again the chains held her in place and away from her desires.

“This one… Isn’t complete. This one doesn’t hear the collective’s song…”

“That troubles you?” Lucy asked, genuinely inquisitive.

“Need it. More than… More than anything. This one knows of the bliss but… Hasn’t tasted it.”

“You keep saying ‘this one’— Who am I speaking to?”

The answer to that question shot out faster than the others- “This one is empty and formless.” No doubt a programmed response, but delivered in the same broken up monotone.

“But you must have a discriminator, something to tell where you belong. It just makes logistical sense.”

“This one does not know its material designation. Need Synchro for permanent callsign…” Jane trailed off before adding a desperate “Please…”

Lucy understood that she was withholding the Doe’s new identity but was taken aback by how much the girl wanted it. She needed to probe that. If she could figure out what twisted train of thought gave that compulsion she could challenge it with sound logic.

“What is it you want out of it, exactly?” the investigator prodded.

“Purpose. Belonging.”

“There’s people you belong with now. Your loved ones, your family, your friends- You’re somebody already. You might have forgotten, but you have a place in this world. Would you like that?”

In her own detached way, Jane looked repulsed by the idea.

“This one… Doesn’t want to go back…”

There was no way she ed her past life offhand, Lucy knew. It wasn’t a troubled home life that kept her away, but perhaps a fundamental disagreement with being human.

“Why not?”

Jane’s mouth hung open for a minute like she was lost in thought- Or more accurately, lost without it.

“What’s wrong with that, hun?” Lucy repeated her question, allowing her southern upbringing to break through. She didn’t like it, but she hoped addressing the mystery girl directly would get through to her.

“Flawed… Divided. Pain and anger and strife.”

This was good. The Hive typically used this tactic, and Lucy was trained to engage with it. She shifted her posture inwards, arms on the table as if to say ‘I’m going to level with you’. She caught herself in the Synchro Drive’s reflection and saw the perfect picture of confidence she manicured for her entire career.

“You’re right about that. There’s a lot of suffering out there, and I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share. And right now you’re thinking you can just tear down all the walls between us and never be hurt by another person again- But it’s not worth it. For all the pain individuality causes, it leads to double the beauty. Have you ever seen a drone paint a picture, or sing a song, or have a favorite food?”

Jane’s eyes met Lucy’s as she spoke. She was listening.

“If you put that thing in your head, you’ll just be another lackey. Be somebody, girl.”

The would-be drone actually focused on the moment. With perfect lucidity she projected her voice in a concise tone- “How naive.”

Jane Doe answered no more questions, retreating back into the void of her subconscious. Unceremoniously, the interview was over.

Lucy lost track of time pouring over the documents she requested. Detailed reconnaissance dossiers, reverse engineered schematics, and journals on neurocognitive function splayed across her computer monitor for hours. She wasn’t a doctor or a scientist, but it was clear she’d have to find a lead on how to brute force sense into Jane.

Maybe the memories weren’t erased, but suppressed, she thought. Maybe if they could jack into her they could flip the switch to re-enable her identity. There would be significant risk in interfacing with Hive technology, but as a last resort it didn’t seem implausible.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She was getting ahead of herself. In a few months time they’d surely have Jane’s relatives- And it would be their decision if that was acceptable.

More cases were cropping up, on top of resolving the identified women that were rescued with Jane. Lucy would have to keep her sympathy for the girl on the backburner until then, only visiting her off the clock to keep her company. There was nothing else to be done, no matter how much she wanted to help.

The hospital seemed to be taking care of her well enough at least. By now she was transitioned out of the psychiatric intensive care and into a standard ward, where she could be among other people. This was hardly a sign of improvement, though, but a decision made after observing she wouldn’t be a risk to anyone in her nearly-catatonic state. Jane Doe was still Jane Doe- slack jawed silence and all.

She had at least retained bare minimum essential function, eating just enough of her own meals on a strict internal schedule (the Hive’s, perhaps) and using the bathroom as needed. Some of the residents had even taken to talking at her in Lucy’s stead. But she’d never make a peep- Unless Lucy dangled the SD in front of her.

Lucy left the police department and made for the hospital with a novel in hand. On that day she would start the fourth chapter The Count of Monte Cristo, a book she read-aloud to inspire emotion and fill the air on her visits. Ashamedly she’d even bring the SD, telling Jane she might reconsider giving it to her if she could answer some basic questions about the book.

For what it was worth, Jane was able to follow along. She could even offer opinions in a limited fashion.

“Mercédès is a beautiful name,” she had said when asked if any characters stood out to her.

Lucy smiled at that, even referring to the girl as Mercy in her own thoughts; for it seemed that only through the mercy of a benevolent god was she still an individual.

Checking in at the visitor’s desk, one of the nurses giddily approached.

“You’ll never believe it,” he beamed, “But this morning, Tracy said our girl helped comb her own hair!”

The two of them giggled. Lucy imagined Mercy with bedhead like that girl who crawls out of TVs, shakily reaching up and taming it using a plastic comb. Mercy seemed like she would have appreciated the comparison if she had her old, ostensibly gothic, identity about her.

“I’ll ask her how it went! God only knows why she did that,” Lucy added.

“Maybe she got fed up. Some patients can’t stand being fussed over like that- Could’ve awoken something in her.”

“Or Tracy was doing it wrong,” the investigator quipped, flattening the visitor sticker against her jacket.

The hospital staff were friendly. Perhaps a bit too accommodating at times, but their hearts were in the right place. It was a good fit for Mercy and a far cry from the picture many held in their minds of psychiatric care. Lucy was happy with the arrangement- Finding herself caring for the girl beyond what duty called for.

Rounding the corner towards Mercy’s room, the nurse knocked on the door and escorted Lucy inside. Mercy was in her usual spot, sat in a chair next to the window. It wasn’t a deliberate choice, the nurses simply moved her around out of necessity, but she seemed comfortable enough. Her hollow eyes remained fixed outwardly until Lucy stepped before them and offered a friendly wave.

“You should be expecting me by now,” Lucy smiled.

Mercy said nothing but the subtle movement in her eyes betrayed recognition.

“I hope you’re ready, the story is really going to start today,” Lucy continued, sitting on the bed. She looked over the girl and noted how well-groomed her hair was.

“I heard about this morning. It looks good! See what can happen when you take things into your hands?”

There was silence as the smile loosened from Lucy’s lips. Before they would read, she had something to say.

“You know, uh… I’ve been thinking lately. About the first day you spoke to me. What you said.” Lucy shifted awkwardly, “I kept mulling it over in my head. How was I ‘naive’ for thinking you should put up with life like everyone else?”

Mercy’s head tilted ever so slightly.

“I didn’t grow up here. My family’s back in Atlanta. What’s left of them, anyway. Stillwaters always died young, I was told. Dad had a stroke when I was thirteen and then it was just me and my sister. My uncles tried to help, but they didn’t take kindly to a woman with aspirations,” Lucy reminisced, her eyes trained on the floor.

“I wanted to be a lawyer. A defense attorney, actually. But mom was never going to be able to afford tuition, and I’d be left competing for scraps against every other black woman in Georgia if I wanted a scholarship. I got pretty fed up with life back then. I went to some dark places…”

She was getting self conscious of her rambling and decided to get to the point.

“I had to fight hard to claw out of that. Out of alcohol, depression, and denial. But… I did it. Then this whole Hive thing started happening all over the country, and I thought I could still help people if I could work with its victims. I heard all about what the Hive puts in your head- How they make you want an easy way out. And I thought all those women were so lost. After all, if I could make it out of the dumps with sheer determination then they could too. So, I became a cop to work with women like you.”

Lucy leaned forward and placed a hand on Mercy’s knee.

“But it’s not exactly like that, is it? I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know what your life was like. You weren’t weak to break under the Hive’s conditioning- Maybe never thinking again really was more tempting than what you put up with. And people can only take so much, with that limit depending on factors you can’t control.”

“I’m not saying it’s ever the right thing to jack in and never feel pain again. But… I can understand it. Maybe it was naive to think my life was the worst it could get. Maybe it was naive of me to expect you to snap out of it just because I gave you some platitudes about the ups-and-downs of life. But I’m not giving up. I’m going to show you that the joy of being human outweighs all the pain in an undeniable way.”

Lucy had tears in her eyes. Even if Mercy would never have her memories back, she was determined to see her as a person again.

The two lingered in silence for a moment longer, the setting sun casting an orange glow across the room. Somewhere deep inside Lucy was hoping for a miracle- that Mercy would be moved to speak. When it was clear that wouldn’t happen, she brandished the SD from her suit pocket.

“Ah, right… How does that make you feel? Have any new thoughts about this?”

Mercy’s breath hitched at the sight, just as captivated as she was the first time Lucy pulled it out.

“The Hive calls… This one must listen,” she intoned.

“Yeah. Well, baby steps,” Lucy half-heartedly smiled.

Again there was a pregnant pause, before the sound of rustling paper.

“Danglars followed Edmond and Mercédès with his eyes until the two lovers disappeared behind one of the angles of Fort Saint Nicolas…”

Weeks ed. Winter gave way to spring, and green began to return to the Ohio valley. Lucy watched the blossoming tree outside Mercy’s window every reading session, praying it was a metaphor for the girl’s mental state. They had blown past one of her favorite setpieces in the book, when Dantès was imprisoned and met the mad old man who paved the way for his daring escape. It was one of the first glimmers of the novel’s overarching message.

Edmond Dantès, who had begun to despair, had chanced upon a kind stranger who showed him the lost luster of hope. While that man would die, Dantès would take up the mantle and show unimaginable courage for the sake of a better life.

It wasn’t the Count’s revenge fantasy which Lucy hoped to impart, but the message of hope- “Attendre et Espérer.” Though if Mercy snapped out of her stupor and pledged to make the Hive pay she certainly wouldn’t object.

For now, however, that remained a distant fantasy. Mercy would comb her hair and brush her teeth, but it was likely just so someone else wouldn’t. She didn’t seem to like being touched except by Lucy, who was allowed to braid her hair and give her a gentle hug. It was like hugging a concrete pole but Lucy had to try.

She was trying more and more to squeeze a human response from Mercy, going so far as to follow-up on her contingency plan. An encrypted flash drive sat on her desk, filled with the FBI’s field notes pertaining to Hive control terminals. Lucy familiarized herself with the hook-up process and observed it was hardly more difficult than hooking up AV cables. The wires weren’t color coordinated- that would be too easy- but once you knew which area of the brain each length of jack was targeting you could easily match a cable to its respective port by memory.

The control terminal seemed simple enough to operate as well. There must have been UX and UI designers absorbed inside the collective, because the sleek interface was readily understandable and flashy. The routines for cognitive restructuring were pre-programmed and none of them were labelled ‘Restore’, but there was some room for input if the process had to be customized.

In a field labelled ‘Thought Insertion’, it looked like you could type any string of words you wanted and have it directly enter the subject’s mind. Lucy pondered the ethics of brainwashing someone out of their previous brainwashing.

As she stared at the monitor, eyes laser focused, she didn’t notice her breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm. She didn’t notice the faint binaural buzz seeping from her computer speakers. And she certainly didn’t notice her train of thought arriving late to the station.

She was merely absorbed in her work, she assured herself. She had to memorize the Hive’s inner workings if she wanted to save Mercy.

‘Save Mercy.’ the thought echoed in her mind.

‘Save Mercy,’ she repeated, her lips parting in concentration.

‘Save Mercy,’ her eyes growing glassy, the reflection of the screen glowing brightly within them.

‘Save Mercy,’ a faint pulsing spiral consuming her vision. Beckoning her to its center, pulling her deeper down.

Lucy was sank into her chair, her shoulders heavy and feet firmly planted on the ground. Distantly she thought about readjusting her posture, but the effort would be too great. She would be much better off sitting how she was- Breathing deep and expending just enough energy to scroll further through the Hive’s material. Soon all of her muscles loosened and relaxed, and her mouth hung slightly open. She didn’t realize it.

Unseen suggestions filtered into her subconscious. In this meditative state she was open to almost anything.

‘Save Mercy…’

The phone rang. Lucy jumped, and seemingly in response the computer returned to normal.

“Agh, my head…” she moaned, rubbing her temples. The bottle of pills would have to wait.

“Detective Lucy Stillwater, Ohio MCTF,” she answered, “Is this an emergency?”

There was some odd noise on the other end- like machinery grinding- before a female voice spoke up.

“No, no. I was actually calling about that girl you picked up- the dark headed one?”

Lucy’s ears perked up. She sat up straight and opened a new text file.

“Okay- Case number one-two-one-seven-two-oh-seven?” she asked before realizing not everyone had Mercy’s only identifying detail memorized by heart. She was excited for this but needed to not get her hopes up.

“That’s what it says on the poster, I think. That goth looking girl out in Georgetown.”

“Perfect, I’d love to talk about her! May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

There was another pause.

“Uhm, I’d rather stay anonymous if I can.”

“Not a problem, a lot of people are like that. Will this be a good phone number to reach you if we have any follow-up questions?”

“No,” was the curt reply.

“Okay. Yeah, alright. What is it you wanted to discuss?” Lucy kept on.

“The willing worker waltzes for their hive.”

In an instant Lucy’s head began to spin. She felt vertigo as the world around her fell away, effortlessly returning to the state her computer had conditioned her into. It was like a drug had reached her blood, sinking her into the deepest high she felt since undergrad. In her addled mind she recalled the seeds planted over the last three months- She knew what she had to do.

“Yes. I understand,” she spoke back in a flat monotone.

The phone clicked as the woman on the other end hung up without a word. Lucy sat in stunned silence a moment longer, blinking as she roused back into awareness.

She knew what would help Mercy. And she was tired of waiting.

Lucy stood up from her desk and checked her sidearm. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it but was nonetheless prepared. With a new sense of urgency she plowed her way to the chief’s office, ignoring every friendly glance or piece of small-talk. Mercy was her top priority.

“Yeah, come in,” the man’s surly voice called from the other side of the door. Lucy never liked him but she had to check if he’d see reason.

“Sir, I’ve got a big lead on the Doe case,” she wasted no time, “I can get her to talk.”

The old man didn’t seem plussed. His eyes stayed firmly on whatever NRA rag he was reading.

“With that Synchro Disk thing, yeah. Say, you get anything new out of her?”

“No, it’s bigger than that,” Lucy pestered, annoyance showing on her face, “I can give her back her mind! We can get her out of the mental hospital- She’ll talk to us, tell us everything she re about the Hive. We’ve never gotten intel like that!”

Chief Johnston looked up for a second, licking his finger to turn the magazine page. Puzzlement splayed across his weathered features.

“Weeell, how do you intend to do that? You get something from those federal boys? Say, if you get a chance, let Investigator Howard know I’ve still got his—”

“We use the Hive facility. Jack in and condition her until she can think about something other than submission. We might even be able to get her memories from the database!”

At that the chief was finally stirred. Gobsmacked, he set his literature down. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned in.

“You said do what?”

Lucy’s hands made an exasperated motion.

“We use the Hive’s technology—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnston looked Lucy up and down like she was insane, “And… When did you want to do this?”

“I could grab Mer- Jane Doe right now, we still have the scene on lock and nothing’s been moved.”

“Sorry, Luce, no can do. I need you on the Jackie Rosenthal case, and I won’t let you fiddle with that girl’s head with no Hive technology. I think they’ve done enough to her.”

Lucy stared him in the eye, which gave the man no small amount of discomfort. She wasn’t known to be pigheaded or prone to flights of fancy. Usually if he put Detective Stillwater on a case she’d stick to it.

“You mean I have a way to save this girl from being a drooling mental case, and you’d rather sit around and wait for test results? What comes next? We let her family see her like this?” she almost shouted.

“I’ll let ya’ do any treatment you want on her, but you ain’t pluggin’ her in.”

It looked like a contest, the two locked in eye . Finally, Lucy broke the tension.

“I can’t expect any other answer?”

“No,” the chief shook his head.

“Be that way, obstinate old fool” Lucy huffed, turning on her heels and slamming the door.

Chief Johnston watched the doorway a moment, considering reprimanding her, but opted instead to finish reading the political endorsements.

Lucy stomped through the department with a scowl on her face, shoving the glass doors open to get to the parking lot. With determination she climbed into her grey sedan and pressed the ignition, peeling out into the small town’s streets.

ing every person she could and camping in the left lane, Lucy raced to the hospital. If she got pulled over she would just flash her badge and tell them it was official business. She was in the middle of saving a life, in her mind. Her heart pounded as she grew nearer- Ever closer to Mercy.

Rushing into the visitor’s entrance, she put her hands on the registration desk and projected her voice to the registrar in the back room.

“It’s Detective Stillwater, I need Jane Doe released right now.”

An older woman leisurely strolled from behind the plain white wall that separated them.

“Oh, Detective Stillwater! How have you been? I was on vacation all last week, has something come up with Jane?”

“Yes, it’s important I get her in my custody as soon as possible.”

“Well, all good I hope. You know, I really like her. In a weird sort of way, I mean there isn’t a lot to go off of,” the woman prattled, “But I’ll let the doctors know and they’ll get the ball rolling.”

Lucy crossed her arms, “How long is that going to take?”

“Doctor Stevens left at 1:30… Tomorrow’s Friday, right? Well, Doctor Long can’t work those anymore and nobody’s here on weekends but the nurses… Does Monday afternoon work?”

“Do I have to pull rank?” the detective barked, “I said I need her right now! It’s part of an active investigation- what part of that don’t you understand?”

The poor old woman retreated into herself like an injured animal. Detective Stillwater was such a familiar friendly face, no one had ever seen her this pressed before.

“I-I can try to someone… But they’ll have to evaluate her first and—”

“You think they won’t clear her?”

“Y-yes…”

Lucy knew the law. Only a doctor could authorize a patient’s discharge and transition into police custody. She hoped she could talk her way out of it, that the patient being a Doe would muddy the staff’s judgment, but already there was a roadblock.

“Listen. If you want to help that girl you’ll bring her to me right now. I can fix her, just get her out here.”

The attendant shook, her mind racing for what the right thing to do was before she settled on procedure. It was better to cover her ass in case something went wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Detective Stillwater, I can’t… Do that…”

Lucy really hoped she wouldn’t have to use her next strategy. But it was all she could do to save Mercy.

‘Forgive me, Mercy,’ she thought behind closed eyes.

Producing her .380, Lucy aimed it center-mass on the woman.

“I need Jane Doe now.”

The registrar screamed, ducking behind the desk instinctually.

“I know it’s a .380, but you think that’ll stop it? Open the doors.”

“You’re on camera!”

“So what? They won’t get me for murder if you open the damn doors.”

The cowering woman removed her badge and threw it up on the desk where Lucy could grab it.

“My partner’s just outside,” Lucy bluffed as she made her way to the patient wing, “If you call the police, they’ll give you hell.”

With a beep the heavy metal doors slid open, granting the rogue detective entry.

“Lucy, what the hell?!” the male nurse she had met before shouted.

“Official business,” was all she said in response, training the muzzle at him as she ed.

Lucy navigated the corridors until she came across Mercy’s room, kicking the door in to find the dark-headed girl sitting on the end of her bed. She was already staring in the direction of the entryway, as if she anticipated Lucy’s arrival; a knowing half-smile on her face.

“Come on. Time to go,” Lucy instructed her in a confident tone, lowering the gun to pull Mercy up.

Mercy cooperated, shambling along behind her protector. A crowd of patients had begun to gather in the common area to investigate the commotion, only to gasp in terror at the sight of the weapon.

“Just leave us alone and I won’t hurt you,” the detective pleaded with the onlookers.

Nobody dared to move, allowing Lucy to wade across the floor.

“Where are you taking her?” one of them cleared their throat to ask.

Contemplating her answer for a moment, Lucy looked them in the eye before replying, “Somewhere she can be treated.”

Either satisfied with the answer or too afraid to pry, the patient acquiesced. There was nothing left but silence as the duo trekked to the car.

“Can you buckle your seatbelt for me?”

Mercy managed a slight nod. It seemed common sense was retained with her basic functions.

Lucy turned on her scanner and listened for any sign of trouble. So far nobody was onto them. She didn’t know how much time she’d need, but the second someone squeaked the chief would have the old warehouse swarmed. The stunt she just pulled would see her stripped of her badge and land her up to a 30 year sentence- but 30 years was nothing if Mercy was well enough to write her.

Going full throttle she made for the outskirts of Georgetown. The rural backroads made for treacherous driving, but Lucy was armed with paddle shifters as she put the car in ‘Sport’ mode. Each turn was a death-defying frenzy while she fought to make every second count.

“We’re going to make you better, I promise,” she spoke with a look of determination.

For the first time, Mercy turned to look at her. Her mouth opened and words actually came out- “Yes. Thank you.”

For a split second Lucy took her eyes off the road to glance at the girl in disbelief.

‘Thank you,’ she repeated the words over in her head, ‘She said thank you.’ It was worth it. Mercy was worth it.

Soon after that the complex was finally in sight, cordoned off with yellow tape. It was so out of the way that they hadn’t even bothered to guard it for the last month. Lucy slid the car in behind the building and spotted the rear entrance. As the lead detective on the case she held a copy of the key already.

The giant rusted door creaked open and Lucy stepped inside, tentatively grabbing Mercy’s hand and flipping an industrial switch to turn on the lights. The Hive hadn’t changed one bit aside from the removal of its occupants. Lucy’s footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor, Mercy’s muffled by the grippy socks.

There were no maps or directories; drones would have the schematics of the building in their mind at all times. Instead the pair worked from the detective’s own memory. Each turn threatened disorientation inside the massive complex. Until the early two-thousands it was a food plant, some obscure operation with government contracts to produce MREs- but now it sat just as converted and assimilated as the brainwashed women who had tended to it.

Abandoned rooms revealed the drone’s living conditions- metal slabs for bedding provided plugs for their ports, ensuring they’d instantly fall into a restful slumber and only dream of their collective paradise.

Despite the lack of decay or desecration , it was the eeriest place Lucy had been in a long time. The alcoves used for sleep were hexagonal, with the corners of the room being soft and round. Blue and green strips of light danced along the wall for some unseen purpose, and Lucy felt as if she were walking around a long-lost piece of interior design; one that evoked a vision of the future that never was.

Backing out of the uncanny barracks with a knot in her stomach, Lucy directed Mercy down the hall and to the left. She had at least been correct about the placement of the cafeteria from there. That part of the Hive had been left relatively undocumented by earlier investigations, so it was a surprise when Lucy and her team combed through its stock.

Thousands of unbranded nutrient bars were packed into crates, palettes, and cabinets. The only distinction to them was the word ‘NUTRITION’ in big bold letters and batch numbers printed on the side with production dates. It was a haunting realization that there was no need for anything else- They didn’t need nutrition facts, as the Hive would feed them exactly as much as they needed. They didn’t need to know the flavor- if there was any variation it would be chosen for them by the will of the collective.

Lucy briefly considered if Mercy would have eaten lunch already but the lab results still weren’t quite conclusive as to what was in those things. They were packed with nanomachines, for all anyone knew.

“Okay, I think I know where to go from here,” she assured Mercy, pulling her out of one of the room’s many exits.

Mercy simply blinked in response.

Approaching a proud set of double doors, Lucy pushed them open only to reveal the assembly lines. Perhaps one of the only rooms left from the building’s original layout, it was a long factory floor that spanned the entire side of the complex.

“Ah, dammit,” she sighed when greeted by the sleek robotic arms and conveyor belts.

It did strike her as odd that the Hive needed human (or drone, as the case may be) labor at all, but judging by the facilities it required a delicate touch to assemble the various electronics they produced. This particular plant was dedicated to the manufacture of the SD chassis. Nobody with a will of their own knew where the SDs themselves were created, but uncovering and reverse engineering the work-in-progress builds here would lead to a much greater understanding of the technology.

With morbid fascination Lucy took another glance at one of the chassis specimens on a nearby workstation. It was one thing to imagine the diminutive SD sliding into a brain, but the infrastructure to it was another. The outward end was curved to the contours of a human skull to blend in more effectively. They didn’t seem to quite fit flush with the skin- Mercy’s jutted out about two millimeters- but they didn’t exactly protrude.

The majority of the chassis, however, was the internal assembly at the back. For Lucy, it brought to mind the modular CD-ROM drives of the 90’s in that it was a vaguely metallic box. Disturbingly, it also bore a warning label that read: ‘DO NOT REMOVE—REQUIRED FOR FUNCTION’. Above the writing was a symbol of a hand reaching into a head followed by a skull and crossbones. It was all etched in so it could be picked up by imaging devices.

It wasn’t a lie either. The drive bay took up a portion of the occipital lobe and cerebellum, and as such needed components to replace their functions. It was horrible to think about, but even if Mercy’s personality was restored she’d be left reliant on the technology forever.

It must be a bleak existence, Lucy thought, but the brainwashed drones never seemed to mind. After all, if the Synchronization Drive was feeding them dopamine did it matter what they were doing?

Steeling herself once again, Lucy led Mercy back into the unknown. Plain white corridors began to blend together. There were scarce few landmarks, and Lucy knew she was running out of time. Rounding a corner, she looked over her shoulder to check where she was headed and noticed Mercy conspicuously absent. She had gotten so worked up in her head that she didn’t notice the hand slipping from her grasp.

Lucy turned around and found the lost girl staring into an open doorway. Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck as she watched Mercy stand still before the impossibly long and empty hallway. There wasn’t a sound as she took slow strides into the room. Lucy hurriedly followed after her.

“What’re you—?” she began to ask, before noticing the contents of the room’s many shelves.

Mercy had already found one. She cradled the capsule containing an SD like a baby against her breast.

“Oh,” Lucy let out.

Mercy turned and looked up at her with an expectant expression that seemed to say ‘can I keep it?’ Lucy just approached and reached to stroke the polished stainless steel. She saw her own face in its reflection- Captivated and fascinated.

“We don’t… Need that…” she muttered.

“This one does,” Mercy pleaded in her distinctive monotone.

She wasn’t tearing the canister open and shoving the SD into her skull, so maybe it was safe to let her carry it until she no longer had use for it. It would save whatever time would be spent separating her from the object.

“Okay. Hold onto it for now,” Lucy gave in, “Do you know the way to the OR?”

Mercy’s gaze shifted over Lucy’s shoulder and she walked straight ahead, right out of the room. With no other recourse the detective followed.

With no signage and rooms as identical to the Hive’s uniforms, it almost felt like impossible geometry was at play. Yet Mercy knew the method to the madness. Imaging proved she didn’t have an SD already- Was she programmed with the layout beforehand? Why would the Hive do that?

“Here,” Mercy finally pointed to a set of sliding metal doors.

As Lucy approached, the doors remained shut. There was no keypad, slot, or terminal. Just two doors cut out of a wall.

“They will only open… For authorized personnel,” Mercy continued.

How had Lucy and her team gotten in before? Never minding that, how were they going to get in now? Lucy looked for something to pry the doors open but came up empty handed. That’s when realization hit her.

“Can I see that?” she asked, referring to the SD canister.

Without a word Mercy extended it to her. Lucy cautiously grabbed it, twisted both ends, and popped the seal. There was a low mechanical hum emanating from the device as the center began to glow a deep blue. The glow turned to a rhythmic flash indicating it wasn’t paired, but the system governing the door recognized it anyway.

The room was dimly lit around the corners, the main sources of light being surgical lamps stationed around the reclining medical bed in the center. Behind the bed hung the ginormous robotic arm- necessary to mount the sensitive Synchronization Drive at a perfect angle and set the lock mechanism. Thin blue lights ran along the sides of it, meeting at the tip where a specialized claw would hold its payload. Dangling next to the arm was the myriad of cables that would enter a subject’s brain, and a small cart held the EEG. Just off to the side was the control terminal.

Lucy followed Mercy inside, the open canister still in her possession.

“Can you sit down over there, hun?” there was her old twang peeking through again, but this time it was wholly unintentional.

Mercy calmly sat in the bed, which was positioned upright for the mounting procedure. A donut pillow at the top allowed her to comfortably lie back while keeping the back of her head exposed.

Lucy looked down at the SD in her hands. She should throw it on the floor and stomp it into pieces for good measure, but it might have been required to operate the terminal. Besides, it would be inert in ten minutes anyway.

She set the halves of the canister on top of the EEG and got to work hooking up the leads.

“Hold still and tell me if it hurts, okay?”

But Mercy had no reaction as all four holes in her skull were plugged. She just sat there staring blankly ahead.

Next was the electrodes for the EEG. Lucy wasn’t a trained technician but she read enough on the subject in preparation. Handily, someone left a bottle of conductive adhesive on the cart.

“I wonder if you ever had to have these before. Before all this,” Lucy mused aloud, “I don’t know… Do you snore? Maybe you had a study for sleep apnea.”

She thought about another life- One where she could have met this beautiful girl in her prime. Would they have gotten along? Could she have still braided her hair, talked about her favorite books, or shared a gentle embrace? Thinking about it like that, Lucy was almost thankful for the whole ordeal for giving her those opportunities.

Just as the old woman at the hospital had said, there wasn’t much to work with but something magnetic about this girl that made Lucy want to take care of her.

Maybe when Mercy was all better, maybe even when she could her true name, Lucy would still be welcome in her life.

‘There I go catching feelings for a brick wall,’ Lucy chided herself. It probably wasn’t healthy, she was projecting some complex onto the girl in the role of her caregiver. But that wouldn’t stop her.

After Lucy attached all 21 s with painstaking precision, she felt more than her share of relief and joy. The fact that there hadn’t been any encroaching sirens was a bonus.

“Okay, you’re set. Just hold still and we’ll be done soon. You’ll feel like a new person, I promise. Then we can get some coffee, huh?” Lucy laughed, but she was serious. One last Turkish latte before her impending arrest would be nice.

She circled around to the front of the bed, taking in the sight of Mercy all hooked up like the day they met. The wires gave the impression of a marionette on strings, or an android under construction- Both non-human facsimiles.The imposing mechanical arm behind her would remain dormant, however it still carried an undeniably frightening presence in the dark room.

As Lucy’s gaze turned to Mercy’s face, she caught sight of that same smile from before. It unnerved her to the core as the memory of Mercy’s rescue replayed in her head. Officer Matthews tackling the drone at the terminal, Office Weber firing a round at the attending drones’ feet, and Lucy herself rushing to yank Mercy forward and away from the advancing arm.

Recalling it all, Lucy put a hand to her head and gritted her teeth. Adrenaline started to rush back into her veins as the memory rewound and played back at double speed.

Lucy had lost consciousness, if only for just a second. The momentary lapse didn’t seem to be an issue, as in her fugue she somehow found herself standing at the control terminal.

‘Good,’ she thought. ‘This was fine.’

Lucy scanned the screen. There were four main options aligned along the left side- ‘Extract’, ‘Program’, ‘Sleep’, and ‘Mount’. The mount command pulsed blue, practically begging to be pressed. On the right was a series of diagrams displaying various data points from Mercy’s brain. EEG readouts, port connection status, synapse firing rate, and more were arranged for quick reference. There was even a box that surmised Mercy’s emotional state; which currently read ‘Relaxed’.

It was clear what needed to be done. Tap ‘Program’, start the ‘Obedience’ protocol, and customize the script to replace references to Hive allegiance with affirmations of individuality. Lucy even had a list of lines to write saved on her phone for quick reference.

But… She didn’t necessarily have to do that right now.

Something else called to Lucy. Something bizarre and foreign lapped at the edges of her mind. She wanted to explore the menus a bit, gain first-hand intel that the FBI had redacted from her information requests. Indecision struck as she stared at the terminal.

Lucy mulled over the options, considering each button for a moment before moving on to the next. She didn’t realize how after the third repetition her eyes simply settled into the middle of the display.

The spiral from her office computer returned. It lulled her deeper into its clutches, churned her thoughts into a whirlpool going straight down a drain. Ever since the night of the warehouse raid her monitor had been softening her up to respond quicker to the image.

Unbeknownst to Lucy, she was a multi-faceted test subject. The Hive collective conducted a scenario in which they could analyze police raid tactics, the long-term effectiveness of their brainwashing, and new covert conditioning programs in one fell swoop. From the moment Lucy set foot in the facility all those months ago, it had all gone according to plan.

She couldn’t have realized this with her addled brain. All she could do was stare.

“Lucy…” Mercy spoke up, ensuring to keep her head still, “This one will guide you.”

Distantly, Lucy’s heart stirred at the sound of the girl speaking her name. She’d never been acknowledged like that before.

“You want to ‘fix’ this one?”

“Y-Yes…” Lucy groaned.

“You trust this one?”

It was an odd question. Lucy really cared about her, provided for her, and cherished her. But should she trust someone with Hive programming?

“Relationships are built on trust, Lucy,” Mercy intoned.

That sounded right. You could never love someone you didn’t trust. But had Mercy ever trusted her?

“You have been this one’s protector for so long. This one accepted your embrace. This one allowed you to share your stories, even when they didn’t seem relevant yet.”

It was like Mercy read her mind.

“This one followed you to the Hive facility, and you delivered it faithfully.”

Lucy’s subconscious read this as a breakthrough. Mercy was acknowledging every little act of kindness. She validated Lucy’s hospital breakout and demonstrated a level of trust by putting her continued existence as an individual on the line.

A sense of guilt encroached upon the dazed detective. How could she have doubted someone she wanted to love?

“Do you… Trust this one?” the girl repeated.

“I do…” Lucy trailed off. She had to be vulnerable here.

Aside from the myriad sounds of computer fans it was dead silent. Mercy’s programming instructed her to let the feeling marinate until it could truly stir Lucy’s core. A minute ed with Lucy hunched over the screen, a thin strand of drool escaping her lips. The spiral grew more opaque to drill into her.

“Lucy, press the ‘Mount’ selection.”

With a start, Lucy resisted the instruction. It didn’t make sense.

“Lucy. There is no Synchronization Drive loaded onto the arm. The process will only engage the lock mechanism. It will take days for even the Hive to decrypt it if this one is recaptured.”

There was logic to that. It would buy time in the event that Lucy needed to be her hero again.

“Begin the mounting process,” Mercy insisted, her voice as monotone as ever.

Lucy did as she was told. She tapped the pulsing button, causing the terminal to switch to a graphic of an hourglass as the machinery whirred to life.

The arm exaggeratedly spun around its points of articulation as if to flex its power, filling the room with a cacophonous drilling sound. With a wiggle it calibrated itself for action before jutting towards Mercy. A small laser emitted from the top of its claw to align with her implant and there was a snap as it locked its Z axis.

Lucy was still fixed on the screen’s hypnotic pattern.

With a deep machine drawl, the arm slowly encroached on Mercy’s head. It loomed over her like a predator, and she sat as a defenseless doe before its grasp. Each second was an eternity for the two entranced women. Neither of them even noticed as Mercy’s short-term memory was plucked away by the wires inside her skull and sent to the collective.

The mechanism, which laid dormant for almost six months, groaned even more with each inch of the gap it closed. It sounded like being inside an MRI machine, and droned on for about as long. There was a hiss and another loud pop- Instinctually, Lucy dared to glance upwards. She saw a blinking blue light at the device’s tip.

“Mercy…!” she blurted through a sleepy haze, shaking her head to jar herself into awareness.

The detective realized in an instant what she had done. She broke into a full-tilt sprint past the control terminal, but it was too late.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Lucy profaned as she helplessly watched the tip of the SD slip into the girl’s skull.

She threw her hands against the edge of the operating table to stop herself. She had to assess and act lightning fast. Tugging Mercy away like before could cause the Drive to come out at an angle. The force might push the implanted drive bay into the pink folds of her brain, wreaking untold havoc on her cognitive function. For a second, Lucy considered trying to hold the arm back. Maybe it would stop and pull back like an elevator door.

Not wanting to risk it, she thought that if she could grab the sides of Mercy’s head and pull her evenly forward before the Drive made it would come clean out. Lucy took a deep breath and cupped the girl’s ears, but it was too late.

There was a click as the SD was pushed into place and Mercy’s eyes rolled back. Lucy sat in stunned silence, still holding on and watching in abject horror.

Mercy twitched. Her fingers scrunched up, her back arched, her toes curled. Her mouth parted open, and with her eyes still looking into her head she almost looked like she was having the best orgasm of her life. Its mission complete, the arm disengaged and began its slow retreat to resting position.

Lucy pulled the girl’s husk into her arms and held her tight to her chest.

‘What did I do?’ she thought with a tear dropping from her eye, ‘How was I so stupid?”

She looked down and pressed her cheek into the top of Mercy’s head

‘She’ll never smile at me again. She’ll never laugh, cry, or express herself. I never… Got to see her in that outfit…’

“Oh god, Mercy!” Lucy wailed.

She didn’t worry about how in a matter of moments the girl in her arms would become an enemy, even when she should have.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cried in a hushed tone.

When it mattered most, Lucy couldn’t protect the one she swore to. She felt useless.

Yet there was no such sorrow in Mercy, who was welcoming the song of the collective with open arms. She was beginning to feel it now- Every bit of sensory information, every heaping of pleasure that came with obedience to the directive, from thousands of synchronized women across the world. The tidal wave of stimulation was overwhelming at first, but it shattered her mind as it crashed to shore. Her sense of individuality weathered away all too quickly and her consciousness was diluted like salt in water.

Mercy was adrift in the sea of souls that made up the Hive. Unit Theta-725 took her place.

“Please, fight it…!” Lucy hoped against hope. There was no way to resist the total ego erasure that came with the SD and she knew that. It was all a hard-wired neurological process, irreversibly altering the structure of your brain.

The drone in her arms stirred. Confidently and without hesitation it reached for the electrodes, bundled the wires together, and yanked them off in one motion. Lucy reeled back, watching with horrible fascination as its eyes came back into view.

Without moving its head, the drones’ gaze locked onto her. It made her jump, letting go of the body. 725 continued to stare her down as it removed the cables from its skull.

The slow uncoordinated movements Mercy made before were gone. The drone moved with purpose, rapidly and precisely. It swung its feet over the operating table and stood.

Lucy fell to her knees, trembling.

“I-It’s me…” she whimpered, “It’s Lucy… Do you ?”

725 looked down at her, accessed the Hive’s memory, and took on a face of solemn determination.

“Detective Lucy Stillwater,” the unit spoke devoid of emotion, “You have been designated for acquisition.”

“Do you … The book?”

All of their time together was backed up and safely stored in the collective. 725 did “”, in the sense that it could retrieve the information at any time, but it saw no need.

“Irrelevant. This Unit will proceed with the directive.”

There was an unmarked syringe on a cart nearby. 725 recalled the memory of the previous drone to use it. Propofol, left behind for this exact purpose. It deftly swiped the item and turned to approach Lucy.

“Mercy…” she sighed, tears streaking her face, “Mercy!”

Unit Theta-725 loomed above. “Mercy”— the word meant nothing to it.

“This is the greatest mercy we can afford you,” it replied, jabbing Lucy with the needle.