“Wait,” The woman beyond the plexi-glass screeched, her hands momentarily snapping away from the motorized board she’d been strapped to. “I remember–! You can’t do this to me!”
Behind the glass, Drone A-C390 sipped her coffee, rubbed a dark, splotchy patch off of her red cross symbol and pressed a button that introduced a fresh set of restraints. The protesting woman was immediately gagged by a whirring mechanical arm as the board began moving forward down the assembly line.
Behind Drone A the door whistled it’s way open on pneumatic drivers. Drone B-2452 stepped through and took a bite out of the freshly buttered bagel in her hand, “Another one?”
“Another one,” Drone A nodded. The protesting woman pulled hard against her restraints and another press of the control panel ensured a second set of bindings snapped into place.
“I really don’t understand why we have to be the ones that do this” Drone B wrinkled her nose, “Everyone knows these superheroines don’t pose a threat to Master Mindrender.”
Drone A clicked her tongue, took another sip and nodded, “She’s less of a threat than that; see the uniform? She used to be a maintenance drone down below, in the inner lab.”
“Wait, she was a slave here?” Drone B cocked her head and took another bite. Through the glass, the ex-slave, ex-superheroine was finally beginning to slow as the over-head mind-number swung into place, beaming hyper-ultraviolet lights into her wavering irises and slowly slackening her face as most of her frontal lobe went dim.
Her protests slowed, then stopped. Another button and she trundled forward into the next stage. Whirring, conical telescopes began to light up spots of her still, dull form. Her chest, already heavier than the average woman, began to swell more, skin turning paler and paler as her face turned into a whorish, doll’s parody of the woman she once was.
“All the slaves here used to be superheroines,” Drone A responded, then swigged a mouthful of coffee. “Duh.”
“Wait!” Drone B set her bagel down on the control desk and dusted herself off, “We used to be superheroines? I was a superheroine?”
A turned to her, and time slowed, her eyes flickered once and then went dim. She felt the familiar, soothing hand of Master’s words at work and when she finally blinked her eyes open again, she was sitting in an empty control room.
She smiled to herself, and pressed the button to load the next slave for reprocessing.
A motorized board whirred into place. The door opened with a clack and a whistle behind her. Drone C-3999 walked in, crumbs of crumpet flowing from her mouth as she asked, “Another one?”
Drone A sighed, wistfully, and pressed a button. Through the glass, Drone B-2452 screamed something about remembering, and trundled along the assembly line.
“Another one,” Drone A nodded, and picked the bagel up off the control panel and took a bite.
