About half a dozen of the guards were unable to identify the difference between prisoners and visitors. Even with their ocular implants functioning. 

Scratching an itch on my forehead, I zoom in with my synthetic eye, wanting to get a closer look at Steve’s optics. The translucent wiring looks clean, but there were burns where they connect to the skull plate, as if the insulation fluid had been leaking. The visual processor would have to be replaced; I’d repaired it too many times for it to be salvageable. I still don’t know why it kept malfunctioning.

“Alex,” I called out to my electronic assistant. 

“How can I assist you, Paul?” Alex’s voice is as chipper as always.

“Create a parts requisition order for me.” I waited a microsecond for Alex to process my command. “Android Echo One-Eight-Four needs a new oral and visual processor, and I think one of his power relays is bad.” 

Sitting back, I rubbed the back of my neck. Staring at Steve, the six-foot bot, I wondered what could cause all the malfunctions. 

“Alex, open the chest plate.” It pops open and I don’t need my enhanced vision to see the burned circuits. I know them by the smell of over-cooked coffee and burned popcorn. 

“Alex, close order and power down Android Echo One-Eight-Four.” 

Instead of watching Steve’s interior lights go out as he powered down, I push away from the examination table and head to the storage vault for the new oral and visual processors. There are several androids in there on standby, waiting their turn for repair and upgrade. 

Ideally, we’d process them in about a day, but my assistant took emergency leave. His absence delayed everything. He didn’t even leave a formal time off request, just a vague, sloppy note on my desk. Didn’t even look like his handwriting. I had to put it in for him so he wasn’t fired. 

I shake my head, knowing I’ll have to talk to him about procedure when he gets back into this prison’s microverse. I smile, knowing it won’t be the last time I do him a favor. Vishal is a good kid, just needs to figure out what he wants out of life. 

As I pull out the processors, my synthetic implant spasms, and my vision goes dark. The box in my hand tips and falls from my grasp before my right eye can adjust. 

The room is a lot darker without the electronic assistance. The colors muted and gray. Black really. 

I remove my left eye with cool hands. I hear the quiet pop as the automated system detaches the clamp from my optic nerves. 

I run my fingers across the glassy surface. Growing, I step under the light and rub my wet fingers together. There shouldn’t be any moisture. 

Pinching my lips, I sniff the thick liquid. I smell nothing. 

I tough my index finger to the tip of my tongue. 

And gag. 

Synthetic ocular fluid tastes like burned hair and wet cheese. I’m coughing, trying not to lose my coffee. I drop my implant. 

Thratch it! My implant, like everyone else’s optic replacement, contains my identifier as a technician. I can’t leave this microverse without it. I can’t even move about the prison freely without it. 

Sighing, I stop carefully and lay on the cold concrete, using my hands, searching for where it went. I have to find it to get out of here. The latest episode of Gynoids – Love in the Miniverse airs tonight. I want to be home for the opening credits. 

I catch the reflection of my implant stuck between the floor and the bottom bar of a supply shelf. How it got there, I have no idea. I slip my arm between the barns and touch it with the tips of my fingers. 

“Convict Eighty-Seven. You will return to your cell or the warden will revoke your exercise privileges for seven days.” 

I jump and hit my head on the metal shelf. 

Steve is straddling my legs, looking down at me. I didn’t hear him get off the table or come into the room. His chest plate is still open. 

His hands close on my coveralls and he yanks me to my feet. I try to free myself, but it’s an android. I don’t stand a chance. 

Steve drags me towards the door. Toward the exit. If I walk past that door without my implant, I won’t be able to get back into this room. I won’t be able to leave the hallway. Or go home. I won’t see real day-light again. Not to mention being trapped in this microverse until someone does a prisoner audit. They’re supposed to happen every year, but in reality they only do it once every five to ten in this long-term facility. 

I try to pull away as I shout, “Alex! Shut down Android Echo One-Eight-Four!”

Alex doesn’t respond. I’m not wearing my implant. 

I climb up the pot, planting my feet on Steve’s chest. Pushing as hard as I can with my legs, I feel the synthetic material of my overalls give way. Newton’s third law takes effect. I slam hard into the wall, making all the boxes shake. For a moment, I’m dazed. Steve stands there, holding bits of material in his ally fists. 

No time to waste. I roll over onto my belly and shove my arm under the shelf. My fingers brush against metal and carbon. I push myself deeper under the shelf, groping. 

“Convict Eighty-Seven is non-compliant, administering calming agent.” 

I scr3eam and twist, trying to reach my implant and escape Steve’s needle as he inserts it into my butt. 

The pinch isn’t painful. 

I feel the edge of my implant, using the nail of my middle finger, I drag it toward me. 

Steve yanks me away from the shelf.

My implant rolls out, now within easy reach.

Seve lifts me from the group like a pro wrestler.  His programming won’t allow him to harm a prisoner, or allow a prisoner to harm themselves.

If I can get back down to the floor, I’ll be able to pick it up. 

“Convit Eight-Seven is non-compliant. I must protect him from injury.” 

The smell of overcooked coffee and burned popcorn hit me once more. His chest plate flaps open, unsecured. 

Reaching into his chest, I grab a handful of wires and yank. They come away. Glowing wires spew fluid, spraying my coveralls. Staining them with a glowing blue coolant. Steve drops me,n and I stubble back into the prison corridor, still clutching the wires. His body tumbles to the ground in the door-frame, blocking the blast doors from closing. 

With a relieved sigh, I lean on the opposite wall, panting. Luckily there are no guards in the hall. 

The world is spinning, and I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes open. I can’t remember a time I’d been this tired. 

In the storage vault of my repair shop, the androids power up. Their safety protocols activated by the proximity to a prisoner-damaged guard. As one, they turn to me. 

“Convict Eighty-Seven has destroyed government property. Convict Eighty-Seven, Ordinance 183 slash B states we must confine you in isolation for sixty days.” Their voices are in unison. And like Steve’s, they speak in a cold and lifeless tone. I have fifteen seconds before they power up their automotive systems and restrain me. 

I have to get to my implant. Pushing myself off the wall, I take four steps before my legs give out and I drop to the floor. The sedative is working its way through my muscles. Light headed, the door frame flashes a red warning as I reach for it. 

The androids in the vault speak again, “Unauthorized access detected.” 

It’s a long show, but I have to try. “Alex, power down the droids.” 

My words slur, my eyelids are almost too heavy to open. My implant is within six feet. All I have to do is touch it and Alex will respond. 

I hoist myself to my knees and crawl over steve. My lids droop, my blinks getting longer, my right eye can’t seem to focus. I’ve made it! No, I swipe empty air, just a little more and… 

The tiny yellow lights on the bots’ arms and legs flash. I have five seconds. 

My limbs are sluggish and numb. It’s within reach. It’s right there! I force myself to keep going. Just a few more seconds. My right arm doesn’t respond when I tell it to, and I lose my balance and face plant into the concrete. 

“Convict Eighty-Seven, will now be confined.” 

Turning my head I can see my implant, I throw my left arm out to grab it. My hand lands on it. I try to speak, to call to Alex, but my mouth won’t work. It cous out,n “Arreg, bowwww down…” 

#

I wake laying on my back. It takes several minutes for the sedative to wear off before I can even open my eyes. I’m in one of the solitary confinement cells. It’s dark. But not the dark of night, the dark of not having my implant.

After a few more minutes, I’m able to sit up. I frown. I’m not wearing my ripped work coveralls. I’m wearing a bright orange jumper with the number eighty-seven embroidered on my chest. 

The door opens, and three android guards step into the room. One bot has a long nasal tube and a bag full of gray liquid. 

I swallow as the translucent door closes. 

Vishal, my assistant, won’t be back from his emergency leave for another week. No one will notice I’m missing for seven days. 

“Convict Eighty-Seven has refused food. We must feed the convict.” 

As they step forward, I blink my right eye and scramble backward.

I hear Vishal in the cell across from me. There are androids in his cell as well. He screams out, “I’ll eat, please no, not again…”