"The body will obey what the soul won't.
[Scene: Transfer – Unknown Time, Unknown Floor]
She woke strapped to metal.
Her wrists and ankles were cold. Bound. The ceiling above her moved — a small LED flickered, rhythm matching her heartbeat. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell what belonged to her anymore.
A hum filled the air. Not loud, but constant. Like she was being carried through a machine.
A gurney. Moving. No bed. No lights. Just movement.
The moment her eyes fluttered open, her collar buzzed. Sharp. Subtle. Not punishment — just a reminder.
When the motion stopped, so did the hum.
Steel doors opened. No guards. No orders. Only a hallway lit in low red pulses. The air felt older. Not sterile. Just... used.
She was moved again. This time vertical. Standing. The cuffs unlocked by themselves. The collar blinked blue.
Stage 2.
[Scene: Cell 09]
Cold. Steel. Wet floor. A faint rust smell lingered.
Her new room had a drain in the center.
And one mirror.
Not polished. Bolted. Scratched.
There were tally marks in the corner. Scraped deep into the wall.
7.
Then a space. 4 more. Then a final line, broken halfway.
She didn't know who made them. But she didn't want to ask.
[Scene: Obedience Drill 1 – "Command Without Voice"]
No voice. No faces.
Just a screen.
One word at a time.
STAND. SIT. TOUCH FLOOR. CURL. STAY.
The collar didn't buzz immediately. It waited. Measured her reaction time.
Hesitate longer than five seconds? Pain.
Obey too fast? No feedback.
Sometimes she followed and still got shocked. Other times, disobedience earned nothing.
There was no rhythm.
Only confusion.
She learned fast: Don't predict. Don't think.
Just obey.
[Scene: Through the Walls – The Others Exist]
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Her head pounded. Her body throbbed.
Then… she heard it.
A scream.
Not from her.
From another room.
"No— no please— I'm not— I'm not—!"
Young voice. Female. Desperate.
Then it broke.
A raw, blood-curdling scream.
Not for help. Not for mercy.
Just the kind you make when your body gives up before your mind does.
Arisa froze.
The crying came next. Deep. Soft. The kind that shook the bones.
"Mom... please... why...?"
She pressed her palm to the wall. Cold. Vibrating.
Then the ceiling speaker hissed static. Loud. Just enough to drown the pain.
But it didn't erase it.
It never would.
[Scene: Sensory Conditioning – The Skin Test]
Another room.
A white chair.
A mechanical arm extended — brushed her shoulder.
She flinched.
Pain.
Then her cheek. Her wrist. Her thigh. Her neck.
She trembled. Couldn't help it.
A screen blinked:
"Rejection response: 61%. Desensitization incomplete."
She tried to lean away. The collar buzzed.
Then it brushed her hair.
So soft it hurt.
[Scene: Obedience by Rhythm – Step to Survive]
A long hallway. A treadmill with no end.
A tone beeped.
Step. Step. Stop.
Beep.
Step. Step. Pause.
She tried to match it. One mistake?
The floor jolted — a vibration so deep it numbed her knees.
Her body began moving to the rhythm before she could think.
By hour two, even when the tone stopped, she kept walking.
She didn't know why. Her body didn't trust silence anymore.
[Scene: Identity Reversal – The Laugh Test]
A screen lit up.
Her. Laughing.
Old memories. Teasing girls in the hallway. Mocking her rivals. That iconic smirk.
"Laugh."
She couldn't.
"Smile."
She didn't.
"Laugh louder."
The collar buzzed. Her jaw twitched.
They played her own laughter. But distorted. Too loud. Animalistic.
"Is that you?"
She cried instead.
[Scene: Lights Out]
Returned to her cell.
No orders.
No voice.
But the moment she walked in — her knees dropped. She curled. She waited.
Not because she was told to. But because it was the only thing her body remembered.
The screen on the wall blinked one last time:
"Motor compliance: 54% — acceptable."