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Chapter 1
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Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)
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The air was cool and clear that night, the sky that deep purple color that it takes on after the sun has just slipped below the horizon, the last remnant of the spectrum that it had held only an hour ago. The wind was quiet; only the slightest breeze slipped through her partially open window, not enough to even slightly ruffle the elegant pink curtains that draped gracefully around it. It seemed to her that the whole world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting in anticipation for something that night; though what, she couldn’t tell.
She sat on her bed, gaze turned to the glassy windowpanes, arms folded in her lap. Outside, it was beginning to grow dark enough that the glare from her crystal chandelier would block out the view almost completely, not that there was much left to see. Sunsets were beautiful up here, but she’d never been interested in stargazing; the tiny pinpricks of light had never crossed her mind as being that impressive, certainly not as beautiful as they were made out to be in books and movies. Like most things she knew, she considered them wholly exaggerated.
Sighing lightly, she turned her head, sweeping her gaze around the room. Her eyes traveled over the antique carved wooden bookcase at the corner of one wall, full of various novels that remained unread, and the computer desk across from it that currently held not a true computer but her college laptop, the connection cables to the printer, scanner and microphone hanging out of it in a rather odd fashion. Her new, state-of-the-art PC was yet to arrive, the replacement for its predecessor, which she had convinced her father had corrupted itself, when the real problem was that it had simply collapsed under the number of files she’d downloaded and saved. Not that he’d bothered to look into why a fairly new computer had suddenly become riddled with errors—he’d taken her word for it, because he didn’t have the time for such a thing.
After all, her mother had died when she was young, and her father, a rich, aspiring politician, always seemed to be busy. He never had much time for his daughter and therefore felt that he had to show his love through providing her with nearly all the material things she desired. Some people thought her spoiled because of this, but she personally thought she was smart—merely conducting a sort of business with her father whenever she wanted something, convincing him to buy it for her. She’d complain and beg and plead, and eventually he’d give in, sometimes in a matter of minutes, others in a day or two if what she yearned for was larger, like a car or a new, expensive airboard. But whatever it was, as long as it wasn’t too costly or crazy, she would get it. She loved being the daughter of such a father, a father who was currently the president of the Naturan continent, having been elected to the position a year ago, becoming one of the most famous people on Mobius. Which made her, college student Sara Felline, famous as well.
Sara found herself looking at her reflection in the screen of her flat-panel TV, admiring it. For a long time, her brown hair had been cut short, but after a while she’d decided to grow it out a bit, keeping it short on the sides and long in the front and back. She’d gotten orange highlights as well on the tips of her hair, a color that complimented the brown nicely.
Her eyes were a light, aqua green, her tiny earrings and the round gemstone on her pink and yellow-colored headdress matching the shade. The headdress itself was a larger version of one designed by her mother for her when she was a child, made to look like pointed cat ears. This was because Sara was actually a second-generation hybrid; her grandmother on her mother’s side had been a Mobian cat and her mother half-animal, half-human, although the only evidence Sara bore of this rather unusual ancestry was a long tail. She wasn’t sure why; she figured that her human genes must have been dominant, the animal ones of her grandmother and mother being suppressed by her grandfather’s and father’s. At least, that’s what she told people when they asked about it.
Sara’s current outfit was coordinated to go with the colors of the headdress, which she wore every day out of habit. She had on a bright yellow miniskirt with pink lace going around the bottom edge of the fabric, secured to her thin waist with a black belt bearing a silver buckle. A short pink jacket hung from her shoulders with sleeves that only reached her elbows, with an even shorter sleeveless top underneath that had the same kind of lace as the shorts. As was the Naturan fashion, she wore gloves—red ones with pink hearts on them, along with loose pink boots that each had a white strip going around the top edge of the material. A tiny black ribbon choker encircled her neck, synchronizing with the belt.
After staring at herself for a minute or two, feeling somewhat tired, Sara blinked, breaking her gaze on the TV’s unlit screen. She turned around and crawled across her four-poster bed, retrieving the TV remote from under a pillow. Resuming her seat at the foot of the bed, she smoothed her hair and pressed the ‘power’ button.
The TV came on instantly, without so much as a flicker. It settled on channel 36, the government-centered station that she’d been watching her father make a speech on the previous day. Today it was only showing some politician talking about his plan to reduce the crime rate of Illumin City, better known as Glowtropolis in local slang. Uninterested, Sara changed the channel, flipping past low-grade movies and commercials full of computer-edited models trying to sell weight-loss medicines, beauty products and whatnot. After a few seconds of channel-surfing, a slight smile appeared on her lips as she paused on a talk show station that she hadn’t watched before.
It was one of the channels from Metalla, Natura’s neighboring continent and political rival. The president’s mansion sat near the guarded border between the two, so Sara could pick up Metallan programming on her TV and radio. Despite the fact that the quality was rather fuzzy, she enjoyed watching and listening to the stations, especially because her father sternly discouraged her from doing so. Even though all Naturans thought of Metalla to be a strange and malevolent sort of place, Sara personally thought that it was not that different from Natura—their programming was the same sort of stuff Naturans watched; only more regulated by the government, she knew. There were less smiling models trying to sell things on Metallan programs, and all the movies and programs seemed to be cleaner. The only drawback was that there was less of a variety in the things Metallans heard and watched, but Sara still found them quite interesting.
The talk show Sara had flipped to looked a lot like the Naturan ones she watched, but unlike those shows, this one did not have celebrity guests. Instead, there were two Metallans dressed in the white coats of doctors or scientists sitting with the host. One was a man with long brown hair that nearly came down to his shoulders and grown-out bangs that stylishly covered his left eye, his right eye a vivid ruby red. He had on dark red pants and black, army-style boots, and was leaning back quite comfortably in his chair, as if he’d been on such shows before.
The other guest was a woman with jade-green hair that was tied up in a stiff ponytail. A short lock of hair hung between her eyes, which were a deep indigo color that glimmered under smart-looking glasses. Her white coat was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a purple shirt underneath, and a black leather strand was knotted around her neck. She was wearing knee-length black boots and a blue skirt, and unlike her male counterpart, everything about her appeared straight and rigid, not casual in the least.
The host of the talk show, who was a red-orange wolf wearing an expensive-looking suit, picked up a sheet of notes and turned towards the audience.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, his voice clear and pleasant like that of an experienced newscaster. “Today we have some special guests on the show today—please welcome Ivo Robotnik and Yral Myuhi!”
The audience burst into applause. Sara’s eyes widened suddenly, remembering something.
Her father had spoken about Robotnik before. From what she’d heard, he was a scientist working on developing robot soldiers for Metalla—a threat to her continent. There were all kinds of rumors and intelligence reports that came in about him, about the kind of technology he was using and the horrors he was creating; robots so mindlessly dangerous that the Naturan military was sending out the famed hero Sonic Hedgehog to destroy them. Sara, like everyone else, was a bit frightened by the rumors…even though she figured most of them had to be the usual exaggerations that populated her world. Now was her chance to really find out what was true about Robotnik and what was not, through the Metallans’ own words.
The host raised his arms and the audience quickly quieted down. He looked down at his notes and began to speak again.
“As you know, Ivo is the Naturans’ nightmare—the creator of technology far surpassing theirs. In the past, he has served as a valuable resource for the military—a true genius, along with his partner Yral. Today we’ll explore the finer details of these two brilliant minds and discover the truth about them and their latest projects.”
The host sat down in a chair across from Yral and Robotnik. Robotnik flashed a calm grin, but Yral remained unmoving.
“So…” said the host, flipping through his notes, “How long have you two been working together?”
Robotnik looked at Yral, as if to ask whether he should answer, and she nodded slightly. “We met at a robotics competition sponsored by the military. I’d always won at those, but when Yral joined in, she defeated me. It was one of the kind where each person develops a robot that can win in a battle against the others, and Yral’s and mine ended up being the only two left. She won very quickly, and I was truly impressed, so I asked her to work with me from then on. We’ve been partners ever since.”
The host smiled. “Then, has Yral been the real mind behind your projects?”
Robotnik laughed. “Somewhat. She tends to tune the finer details, the things I skip over. She pretty much holds all my crazy ideas together.”
A good-natured chuckle rose up from the audience. Sara trained her eyes on Yral, whose expression had become unreadable. Was it jealousy? Or did Yral have more of a part in Robotnik’s creations than he was attributing to her? Sara suspected that it was the second choice; Robotnik seemed a bit arrogant. He probably wasn’t letting the whole truth out.
“Okay…” said the host, not noticing Yral’s change of face. “What are you two currently working on?”
Robotnik and Yral exchanged glances again, and Robotnik gestured for her to answer. “We have two projects at this time. Project 01, Silver Sonic, is a robotic soldier that we designed to combat the resistance caused by Sonic Hedgehog. It has groundbreaking intelligence and the ability to make practical and moral decisions on its own. Project 02, Metal Sonic, is an android. It has a robotic skeleton and processor as well as actual skin and blood developed from the DNA of Ivo and I. It currently has the appearance and mannerisms of a small child, but we hope to soon upgrade it to a more useful size and intelligence.”
The audience whistled and applauded loudly. Sara gasped, unbelieving of what she’d just heard. An android with skin and blood? A robot that could make moral decisions? Was that even possible? It sounded like something out of a science fiction movie. Then again, this would explain where all the crazy rumors concerning Robotnik came from—he and his partner really were developing some amazing things, things that were probably amazingly dangerous as well.
She looked at Robotnik and Yral as the audience continued showing their admiration. It was strange that the two were partners at all…they seemed so different in personality. Robotnik being laid-back and self-confident, Yral serious and almost robotic herself in her formality. Just now, Robotnik had called into the audience proudly, stirring them up like a crowd at a concert, while Yral was sitting with her arms folded and only the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Complete polar opposites, Sara thought.
The host stood up and raised his arms for silence. It took a few seconds, but eventually the audience quieted down.
“Now then,” he said, taking a seat again. “Let’s continue…”
“Sara?” a voice called from outside her room, accompanied by a knocking on the door.
Sara recognized the voice at once. She grabbed the remote, fumbled with it for a second, then managed to turn the TV off. The image on the screen vanished instantaneously.
“Yes, Daddy?” she called back, wondering if he’d heard what she’d been watching.
“I think it’s time you went to bed.”
Sara sighed. She didn’t get to speak with her father very often, but when she did, it seemed as though he babied her. It was the middle of summer…did it really matter how long she stayed up? She turned her head towards the digital clock that sat on her bedside table; it was just after 10:00. The sky had since faded from its deep purple tone into a dark bluish-black, from the little of it she could see. Well…she had been up fairly early this morning, perhaps for once she would obey her father’s wishes and call it a night. At least he hadn’t heard that she was watching Robotnik on a Metallan talk show.
“All right. G’night, Daddy.”
“Good night, Sara,” her father replied. She heard the sound of retreating footsteps, then her room fell silent.
Sara got up from her bed and strode to her window, pulling down the blinds. She raised a hand to her open window, close to the metal screen; then, feeling no nocturnal breezes coming through, cranked it shut. The outside world still seemed to be holding its breath, quietly waiting. She wondered why.
She picked up her headdress and placed it carefully in an empty spot on her computer desk; then stopped at the adjoining bathroom coming off of the front wall of her room and changed into a light silk nightgown lined with lace. Walking across the fluffy carpeting in her bare feet, she paused in front of the switch for her chandelier. Meeting eyes with the small, luminous red sensor, she ordered, “Off.”
The switch clicked at her command, plunging the room into darkness.
Sara climbed into her four-poster bed, shutting the curtains behind her. It was a warm night, so she laid on top of the velvet covers on her back, staring up at the ceiling. The still air felt somehow tense around her, stiff like the way that Yral had been, unnervingly so. Locked in anticipation. It was an unsettling feeling, the kind of feeling she got when watching a character walk through a hall or into a room in a horror movie, knowing that something was going to go wrong and that she couldn’t warn them, even if she wanted to—all she could do was wait and see. Stay and watch.
You’re crazy, Sara, she told herself. That talk show must have gotten to your brain, freaked you out.
But she could remember feeling the stillness, the quiet watchfulness even before she flicked on the TV. It was there the whole time, watching her, monitoring her, waiting for…what? Something. She couldn’t even begin to guess.
Sara turned over onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow, willing herself to cast out such thoughts. She didn’t live in a movie, after all; her life was perfect, sheltered. She shouldn’t worry herself with such mental nonsense, such completely unsupported fears.
After a while, she slowly fell into an uncomfortable, restless sleep, the silent air never breaking its attentive gaze upon her.
*
It was around 2:00 in the morning when she awoke abruptly, chills shuddering down her spine.
Sara found herself staring at the ceiling of her room again, having rolled over in her slumber. A shaft of moonlight skimmed across the white surface, caressing the edges of her chandelier, casting wispy, vaporous shadows that seemed to writhe and curl as she stared. She sat up quickly and nervously cast her gaze around the closed velvet drapes of her bed. Reaching out, she pulled one back to read the luminous red numbers on her digital clock, then gaped at the time. What could have possibly gotten her up at this hour..?
Her drapes fluttered to the right of her, the direction of the window. A draft eased through a crack between the sheets of fabric and passed through her thin nightgown easily, making her shiver with the cold. She climbed out of bed on that side and crossed the room to the window, then stopped—the shade was up, not drawn; which explained the moonlight that had spread patterns on her ceiling. She seemed to remember pulling down the shade, though, not to mention closing the window, which was wide open. Hadn’t she? Sara was sure that she had, but then again, her mind was still half-asleep, meaning that she could be imagining things.
She leaned out and looked through the window at the dark world outside. The glass panes had the marks of water droplets on them, and she could smell the scent of a recent rain on the breeze. It must have rained while she was sleeping, and finally moved that eerily still air around. No longer did she feel as though it was holding its breath in anticipation, the scene it had been waiting for must have passed.
Either that, or it was happening now…
Oh yes, the world was waiting for me to get up and close the window, Sara thought sarcastically. With a humorless snort, she cranked the window shut, pulled down the shade and padded across the still-cold carpeting into the bathroom. After a minute, she emerged and strode back towards her bed, yawning tiredly, glad the tense feeling around her had lifted. She opened the drapes and started to climb back into bed…
…only to feel a tug on the other side, like that of a person holding the covers down.
Sara froze; panic struck her like lightning. Her heart pounded rapidly as she stumbled back, watching as a shadow rose from the other side of the bed, the right side, in the direction of the window. Darker than the darkness, it loomed above her; appearing to glory in her terror, the fact that she’d just realized that she had closed that window and drawn the shade before going to bed after all.
Sara tried to scream, but no sound came out. She knew now that this was it; the scene that the air around her had been waiting for, watching her for. A scene of horror, where she played the victim that couldn’t be warned, only observed. She wanted to run, but her legs felt like giving way; she could only stand there, eyes locked on the demonic creature that stood threateningly above her, reaching towards her with mindless desire.
Something flickered on the head of the beast, like a spark of fire. Two glistening eyes burned into existence; a bright golden color that darkened to red-orange around the edges, like windows to a blast furnace. At the sight of such a horror, Sara found her voice and began to shriek, but a steely hand covered her mouth, muffling the sound. Another hand attached to a strong metallic arm took her by the waist and lifted her off her feet as she kicked and lashed about, bringing her close to the face of her captor. By the light of its eyes, she could make out a pointed nose and muzzle that glimmered like chrome, and a few long appendages that came to dangerously sharp points around its head.
Spines? her mind suggested, and a lurking suspicion rose to her mind’s surface, crazily ironic, but very, very possible.
Could this creature be…?
But before she could finish the thought, the malicious thing turned slowly, still carrying her tightly, and strolled silently towards her window. She began to scream and struggle anew, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
It paused for a moment, as if pondering something. Then it stepped forward, turning its head away from her, so for a moment Sara could not see what it was doing. The shade began to move upwards, the creature falling into a kneeling position as it did so, and Sara realized that her captor was pulling the drawstring with its teeth (or gums, she couldn’t tell if it had truly had teeth or not)—cleverly avoiding removing the hand around Sara’s waist or the one over her mouth. Once the shade had been lifted, it put a foot to the window and pushed outwards—forcing it open slowly, as to make as little noise as possible. With Sara in its arms, the creature climbed up onto the wooden windowsill, steadied its position—and jumped off.
Sara screeched like there was no tomorrow. Her room was many floors up in the president’s mansion, and although underneath there was not pavement but cleanly cut grass, she still had no doubt that the force of the fall would cause her to be crushed against her captor’s metallic body. Flailing wildly, she felt hot tears of dread being blown out of her eyes by the rushing wind as she was dragged downwards, plunging with a being that didn’t fear death and didn’t care less that she did.
Then, all of a sudden, everything stopped.
Sara blinked; there was a whirring noise below her, like that of a miniature jet plane. She looked down, feeling perplexed despite the scare she had gone through—the creature had fiery exhaust spewing from the bottoms of its feet and was hovering just above the grassy ground in a steady, controlled manner. As she stared, a voice in the back of her mind (that was remarkably still sane) commented on how strange it was for something to have jets in its feet, and that her captor must be robotic.
Again that lurking suspicion that had entered her mind when the beast’s face had first come into view rose to the surface of her thoughts.
…a robot with spines…with hedgehog spines…
Could it? Could it really?
The robot raised one leg like a figure skater, the sound of its jets growing louder. Sara saw that it was lifting itself up and drifting forward, gradually increasing speed like a plane taking off. It moved in this fashion for a minute or so, away from the president’s mansion; then, when they were a fair distance from it, floating above the massive fountain at the end of the huge grass-covered yard, the robot removed its hand from Sara’s mouth and placed it across her upper body instead; securing her. Sara peered up at the robot’s face curiously and barely had time to react as there was a loud blast like that of a cannon, and the two of them went rocketing upwards, catching a shriek out of her that vanished into the oncoming airstream.
She immediately pointed her head downwards again, choking, trying to catch her breath. The rushing wind sent vibrations down the robot and through her as well, along with rendering her unable to breathe. Looking away from it didn’t help much, either—the robot’s jets at full speed left a trail of smoke that made her cough repeatedly. Her hair and nightgown whipped around crazily as they were assaulted by air currents, and she fought the urge to scream in utter terror, knowing that she didn’t have much breath to spare.
Luckily, the robot steadied out after a few seconds, stopping its rapid ascension and slowing enough that Sara could fill her lungs again. Still looking down, she could see that they were now high above the buildings below; even the mansion looked miniscule. The robot was making a U-turn back in the direction of her home, zooming above and past it. They were heading South, away from the Naturan governmental capital—aiming to cross the Metallan border.
At that moment, Sara felt that her suspicions were confirmed. Somehow, despite her conflicting feelings of fear and confusion, she laughed out loud at the sheer irony of the situation.
The robot looked at her, probably wondering if she’d gone nuts. She returned its gaze, remembering how it had managed to open her window without releasing its grip on her, remembering that moment it had taken to think about how to do so.
“It has groundbreaking intelligence and the ability to make practical and moral decisions on its own…”
The moon was bright tonight, and she could see the robot more clearly than ever. The animal-like muzzle…the spines fanning out from around its face…the tiny pointed ears atop its head…the features of a hedgehog.
“…a robotic soldier that we designed to combat the resistance caused by Sonic Hedgehog…”
“Project 01…”
“Are you…Silver Sonic?” Sara asked quietly, awe taking over the humorous side of the situation.
It didn’t respond, just looked away from her. Sara wondered if it had heard her in the wind.
“Silver Sonic! Is your name Silver Sonic!” she shouted.
Again, no response. Perhaps it didn’t have the ability to speak…or had been ordered not to. What kind of mission had it been sent out on, anyway? Was Robotnik intending to hold her, the president’s daughter, for ransom? To lock her up and send out a note demanding millions from Natura? If so…she knew that she’d get out immediately. Her father would pay anything for her release, of that she was certain.
But even that thought still didn’t erase the lingering apprehension about where she was being taken, past the border and into forbidden lands that the most she knew of came off of TV she wasn’t even supposed to watch.
Sara cast her gaze towards the ground far below. She could see the guarded wall now, the wall dividing Natura and Metalla, marked by bright white lights and lined with electric fencing. Beyond that, the bluish-white radiance of a city shone in the distance, the nearest Metallan metropolis to the border. The lights seemed mysteriously beautiful from above, bright and shimmering, blending with the silvery moonlight. It was the kind of view that you’d see off a travel postcard—not in real life.
They passed over the border, heading towards the city, the glow of the electric lights growing steadily brighter as they came closer and closer. Then, as if in a dream, Sara saw something else on the horizon—something reflecting the moon like a mirror, breathtakingly beautiful. She had learned of it in school, had been taught its name and location on a map—the Instrun Bay—but never had she observed its splendor. She supposed that like everything else Metallan, such splendor had been prohibited to meet her Naturan eyes.
At first she assumed that her captor was taking her into the city to be held, but to her surprise, the robot passed over the tall, glassy skyscrapers and winding highways. Instead, it flew right to the bay, jetting far above the serene waters, the rows of tiny waves created by the natural motion of the sea lapping gently underneath them. Sara glanced out into the distance, wondering where they were going, the bay seeming to stretch out endlessly, leaving her unable to tell where it became sea and then deep ocean.
All too soon, a landmass appeared out of the blue, a sight Sara greeted with an entirely different sort of sentiment than when the bay had entered her range of vision. It was an island that seemed to hold some sort of sprawling metallic complex surrounded by fortification, a complex that looked a lot like a prison to Sara. She shuddered and bit her lip, hoping that she wouldn’t be locked in some sort of dark cell while she was under Robotnik’s power.
Her captor swooped onto the island, slowing its jets to a hissing whine and shifting into a standing position in order to land on the beach. Its robotic feet touched sand softly as the jets shut off, leaving the moving tide as the only sound. It surveyed Sara, as if wondering whether she would begin screaming again, but she scarcely had the mind to do so anymore—and besides, no one could come to her rescue at this point. She felt the robot’s grip loosen on her, and it removed one of its arms from around her body, leaving only the hand curled around her waist. The robot then began to walk swiftly towards the building complex, tugging on Sara and motioning for her to follow. She did so dutifully, hoping that obeying orders during her time in Metalla would make whatever she would have to go through as pleasant as possible.
The two of them walked into an open hangar in which two private planes sat parked at refueling stations, their dark, empty windows appearing to stare coldly at Sara as she approached. The robot turned its head, and for a moment Sara thought that it was checking to see if they had been followed—but then the hangar door slammed shut behind them, and she realized that it must have somehow mechanically ordered the door to do so—or at least have messaged to someone to close it. The two were instantly enveloped by darkness then, except for the robot’s luminous eyes, which provided little light in the lofty hangar. Still she was led forward, and it came to Sara that her captor must have no need for light to find its way around, like anything animal or human. The thought sent a slight chill down her spine.
There was a hiss of hydraulics, and Sara blinked as a dim glow flooded into the hangar. A thick metal door had slid open, a door that had been built to withstand virtually anything trying to work its way in. The robot led her through and it closed slowly, creating a complete air-seal between the hangar and the hall that she had just stepped into, which carried the sterile scent of a laboratory. A vent blew softly overhead and similar grates lined the sides of the hall, just above the perfectly flat carpeting—no doubt sucking in and away dust and bacteria, filtering the air around her. Down the hallway, Sara could see nothing but painted brick and lines of metallic doors, each baring a single small window with crisscrossing wires of metal inside the glass.
Like the doors in an asylum, Sara thought as her captor led her down the hall, past many rooms and around a tight corner.
Here the long hall came to a halt, with a single door at the end of it. Sara noticed that while some of the doors were labeled as closets, storage rooms and the like; this door at the end of the hall stood with the unmarked majority. Her fear came back to her in full force then—whatever room was behind that door, the robot was leading her to it. It was the room that would be her prison cell.
“Hey!” she cried, struggling suddenly. While her mind had, for the most part, felt numb with confusion and even somewhat curious after her capture, now it was like the instinctive terror that had gripped her at the first sight of the robot had returned—she could not be locked up! She would not be incarcerated! The impulse to free herself pounded in her veins, and she strained to get away from her captor, regardless of the fact that she’d promised to obey. The robot put its hand over her mouth as she shrieked and thrashed and lifted her up like how it had lifted her in her bedroom, carrying her by one arm, holding her securely without any effort at all. The door at the end of the hall swung open at its approach, widening invitingly for its prisoner to enter.
Suddenly, the robot flung her into the room, a startling move compared to the fairly gentle way it had handled her beforehand. Caught off guard, Sara was forced to gather her senses when she landed sprawled on a rug inside, giving her captor just enough time to order the door shut without the risk of her escaping. She sprang up as the robot was turning to walk away, its mission accomplished.
“Wait!” she called through the glass window of the door, tapping on it rapidly.
Remarkably, the robot turned around to face her again, ready to listen to whatever she had to say.
“I have one question before you go,” said Sara, breathing hard. “Are you Silver Sonic?”
The robot’s golden-orange, furnace-like eyes flickered in a movement Sara interpreted as a sort of blinking motion. Her captor appeared to be thinking, or checking with its superiors to see if it could reply.
Then, in a voice so human that it made Sara jump, the robot spoke.
“Yes.”
With that, it turned on its heel and left her alone. Sara sat down on the rug weakly, feeling the numbness of confusion overtake her again. She had expected Silver to have a mechanical-sounding voice, emotionless and unreal, like the voices of the computers that ran so many phone systems. But the robot’s voice had possessed emotion, emotion that had been apparent even in that single word, a slight metallic tone the only evidence that it had been expressed by a computer. Like when she had realized that Silver didn’t need light to find direction, Sara felt chills—chills that now were coming from the exact opposite end of the spectrum—not from the inhumanity of the robot, but the shocking humanity of it.
She laid back, suddenly feeling very tired. Silver Sonic, the enemy’s creation, had pushed the limits of her practical mind; forced her to believe many things her small circle of existence had never held. She would find out more about the robot soon. For now, she had to focus on breaking out of her rather small prison cell.
As Sara looked around the room, she observed that despite its size, it was also the most attractive prison cell she had ever seen.
Author's Chapter Notes:
And it begins...