Author's Note: This is Sci-fi. I have never written sci-fi before, thus, this may be a tad bit confusing. But all in all, please enjoy to the best you can.

10,000 years

"Night mum. Night dad."

"Night sweetie."

"Oh and dad? No snoring, please?"

Laughter greeted your words as you returned to your room, eager to snuggle under those warm toasty blankets, hidden from the frosty night air, the cold blast of the air conditioner that was a must in your country, hot and humid as it is, but it was the warm wrap of blankets around you that made you fall asleep. After all, there was a reason it's called a 'security blanket'.

"Love you…"

"Wake up, sleepy head. Time for school."

Grumbling under your breath, you rolled over. You have long finished school, currently awaiting your acceptance into a local college. What was she talking about? What school?

"Your friends are waiting, come on. Wakey."

Cracking an eye open, the distant sound of 'whoosh' dragging your attention from a too white ceiling towards the source. It took a full 7 seconds to register.

This was not your room.

Your heart rate raced, perspiration broke out all over you as you scramble to leap off the bed so obviously not yours. Everything was too white, the table, the bed, the ceiling. There was chrome, there was metal, but your wooden cupboard, your hand-carved desk, your woollen blanket.


A scream made its way up your throat, your eyes widening to inappropriate proportions, your breath coming out in short puffs before you caught sight of yourself.

Your scream died before ever coming true.

It was still you. You saw. The mirror never lies. You were still the same, the same hair colour, the same eyes, the same you. Even your hairstyle is the same. Belatedly, you pinched yourself, yelping in pain when you realized, this was very, very real. Another strangled sound struggle to escape you, but you ruthlessly punch the lights out of it and shove it to the furthest recesses of your mind.


Turning to the door, you were about to ask your mother just what was happening, when you lost it and screamed.

"How is she?"

"Just a little shocked. Nothing serious. No trauma, nothing. Just another case of bad dreams."

"Are you sure? I mean…"

"Yes, Madam. She really is fine, the results all show normal readings, it's just another case of overactive imagination taking hold of the subconscious mind."

"Ah yes… The newest research, I've been told…"

Silently, you listened to the voices. Breathlessly, you watched the ceiling. Quietly, you allowed tears to fall. Where were you? Where is this? Where were your parents? The image of clean, silver cover, chrome facial features, chrome body, chrome fingers… It was the typical robot from a sci-fi movie.

A typical robot, with your mother's voice.

A broken sob made its way to your throat. What is going on? This… this nightmare. Everything was so metal-like, you were surprised to find yourself still human. You caught a glimpse of the owners of the voices outside, and you shuddered to think that the 'man' who was your doctor, was nothing more than a few pieces of metal put together with wirings and lasers for eyes. You heard your 'father', and you couldn't help but pray he was 'normal'.

'Or maybe I'm the abnormal one here…' Bitterly, you glared at the door, dared them to come in and face your rapidly increasing wrath. You were known for your temper, you always channelled your sadness, your pain, into anger. It was easier, no heart break, no tears. So now, you glared holes into the immaculately chiselled door, laser-cut, no doubt. You cursed whatever deity sitting above you, in the clouds so far away, for their non-to-funny sense of humour. You cursed yourself for breaking down so easily. You cursed the fact that this was no fiction, you were real, this was real.

Or was it?

You cursed your indecision. You cursed everything under the sun and moon, before you noticed, there were two suns in the sky, and there never was a moon.

Apparently, you kept a diary. Telling yourself, you could not spy on your own thoughts, you reached for the innocent book, expecting pages to be flipped, maybe a bit dog-eared, what you did not expect, was yourself, a hologram, floating an inch from the page that was obviously a whole mesh of wirings and screws.

Day One

Lovely weather, today. Of course, everyday is a lovely day. Everything's practically mould to suit the word 'perfect'. I hate this. Hate these perfect walls. Hate the colours. Hate those stupid robots. Hate all these. Hate myself. Hate. Hate. Hate.


Day Two

Oh, so there are humans here. I thought I was the only one left. You know, like 'last man on Earth' or something, or rather, last woman, person. Whatever. They (the blasted robots) told me to go to the cafeteria. It was some canteen thing. Long benches, long tables, you know the drill. I sat there in my space suit. Okay, not a space suit, but it's all white and bulky.

There were others. I ignored them.


Day Three

The robots never get angry. I tried to piss them off, they smiled, well, as much as they could smile, and told me to drink my milk and go to bed. I hate milk. I hate everything they give me. Yes, it's back to the hate issue. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Oh, someone human talked to me today. He's pretty nice. Funny. He said I shouldn't piss them off. I told him to bugger himself.


Day Four

They tied me down. They freaking tied me down! How could they? Oh fine, I threw the milk at the robot and watched it fizzle. But I already said I hated milk! Jeez. What the heck was wrong with them?

The boy came again today. He brought a friend. They brought me fruits from the canteen. I told them I'm not responsible for if they were caught. He said it didn't matter. The strawberries were quite nice.

P/S: They don't know what a strawberry is. They just eat it.


Day Five

I tried. I really tried. I listened to them. I obeyed their every order. I even drank their stupid milk. But they tried to make me wear a dress. A DRESS! I hate dresses, as much as I hate the colour pink. I screamed at them, chucked the abomination at them, they merely made clucking noises at me and told me naughty girls don't get dinner. Like hell I care. I still have the apple from yesterday.

He didn't come today. I heard from a passing robot that he was quarantined. I hope he's okay. I mean, I don't want to lose my one food source.


Day Six

Stupid skirt. Stupid milk. Stupid robots. Apparently, today's some weird function where the girls show off their bums to males and seduce them to bed. Urgh. I remember this, it's some 19th century crap, or 18th, never read my history, didn't give a damn.

I saw him, and his friend. They are playing 'goody two shoes'. I know they want me to do that as well.

Some idiot came and tried to feel me up. I kicked him where it hurts.

It was worth it.


Day Seven

Déjà vu. Ever had the sense you have been doing something over and over? I do. No idea why, but it feels like that. He came by. Somehow, I felt that he ought to be younger, more boyish. Not this… half-man-boy being standing before me. I quirked an eyebrow, he sighed. I heard a second sigh.

She was a beauty, really. I still remembered when she brought me the apple, told me to hide it. She liked strawberries too. All sorts of berries, really.

They say they were getting married. I congratulated them. They gave me a worried look and told me to stop fighting it.

But how can I stop, when I didn't know I have begun?


Day Eight

She chose me as bridesmaid, her choice was rejected. They tried to argue, but we all know they will lose. They told me I was confined to the room, banned from outside communication. I asked them what they were doing here. They said they didn't want to leave me alone. I told them to go. I said painful things. I think I hurt them.

They say they wouldn't ever leave.

I told them they were stupid. Of course they will leave. They always do. Always.


Day Nine

It's not really a big day, come to think of it. I mean, a couple hundred other couples are marrying alongside you. How special could that be? Mister I-Got-Kicked-In-The-Balls leered at me from the door-window thingy, I flipped him the finger. He stalked off. Bloody pansy. I pity the poor girl who has to be his bride.

They were making records now, the robots, I mean. I see them with clipboards and files and stuff. I wonder if they are trying to off me. I hope so. I can't stand another day of white and chrome. I gave the rest of my sandwich to the mouse (they say the mouse is imaginary, but they gave me a cage nonetheless, go figure). If they wouldn't kill me, I'll just kill myself.

I hope she wouldn't bring more food…


Day Ten

You know, I think I'm losing track of the days. I know I said 'day ten', but really? I have no idea. I just wanted the numbers there. I could still remember their wedding, it was supposed to be yesterday. But she came today, smiling, and very, very pregnant. That isn't possible, right? It's not possible. You can't get married one day, a virgin, and then going into labour the next! It's not logical. I'm no scientist but jeez!

He came today, brought another sandwich. I specifically asked for cheese. The mouse likes those. He says I'm not eating. I made a big fuss of nibbling on the bread.

I wonder if he would ever come back. I wonder if I'll succeed.


'10,000 years…'

You screamed, long and hard, screamed as memories flooded your mind. You scream as the book fell, the ghostly image of yourself mouthing those fateful words, over and over.

How could you forget? How could you ever forget your friends, your family… How could you forget the instant you were carted off, your body frozen in time as your house, your home, destroyed in that war. How could you forget the handful of humans left behind for the sole purpose of breeding, of bringing back the human population…

How could you forget, you were the only one that survived the virus that eventually turned the planet into a land solely of robots and metal.

Tears came unbidden to your eyes. You know they wouldn't hear you scream, they wouldn't hear you sob the names of your friends. You requested a sound proof room, they obliged. You requested privacy, they obliged, to a certain extent, you were not given permission to starve yourself, or any other forms of suicide. You were ordered to stay alive.

Silently, tears running down your face, you picked the now silent book up. With shaky hands, you placed it upon the table. You were given everything, you noted wearily. You were given your original room, except that it was in white and chrome. You were given your original clothes, except that it was all in black, white, or silver. You were even given your parents' memories, embedded within the contraptions you hated so much; it was an irony, a painful irony. You were given everything, except they just weren't enough.

How could you ask for time that has already passed?

Slowly, you padded over to a corner. A cage rested there, one that has been empty for quite a while. Slowly, you brought the little treasure out. Gently, you lifted the door. The ghost of your pet mouse scurried towards you, before it disappeared, like all ghosts have to at some point.

Reaching inside, you removed a tube. Metal. What else was new… There were carvings on it, just a short dent, a mark. You removed all ten of them, placed them before you, on your bed, as your fingers slowly caressed the carvings, the memories.

Ten metal tubes.

Ten notches on each.

Ten times ten.

Ten thousand years.

A knock sounded through the room, and you slowly replaced everything, pushing the cage back to its corner as you added the newest tube inside.

It was, after all, time to take your elixir, created to turn your body back in time, erase your memories, keep you alive. It was getting quicker and quicker each time, as if your body was slowly gaining immunity to it.

You have experienced immortality for ten thousand years.

Smiling, you locked the door, sealed the room, and lay on your bed.

Frantic shouts and loud poundings filled your mind. You could feel your mother's hand on your forehead. You could smell your father's cologne. You could see your friend waving, his wife and their children smiling at you. You could taste freedom. You remember you have done this stunt each and every time.

You remember the door breaking down.

You waited ten thousand years, it was the one wish never granted.

You waited ten thousand years. You did not want to wait any more.