Carbine awoke an hour after midnight, the moon light shown brightly through the bared window upon the chrome sheen of the metallic side of his face. He was restless. Carbine had been uneasy throughout the entire night. It was not because of the chill of the cell, nor was it the trauma he had suffered the day before. It was something else, something that Carbine could not put his finger on. He felt that he was being watched by someone, though no one was there except for Idea, the other two cell partners and he. “There is something wrong with this prison… I don’t know what, but it is growing unbearable. I wonder if anyone else feels this too.” Carbine shifted onto his side on the mattress, appearing to be spaced out.

The jingling of keys soon became audible, it was the two cell guards, but there was more than just two guards. Carbine could tell, the pace of the footsteps is what gave it away. He heard whispers between the guards and the stranger coming closer to his cell. As the footsteps grew closer, the temperature of the cell began to drop significantly. Goosebumps formed on Carbine’s skin and his breath soon became a visible vapor. Carbine kept silent, hoping to depict what they were saying. The footsteps stopped directly in front of his cell and Carbine heard a cold, icy voice, “I wish to see the new prisoner, it is… of classified reasons.” The lock on the cell opened and Carbine quickly shut his eyes and proceeded to fake his slumber. The cold became near to freezing as a shadow of a stranger crept over him. There was a pause, a few shifts of the feet and the stranger placed his deathly cold hand upon Carbine.

Nearly shocked from his icy touch, Carbine struggled not to gasp or show any signs of consciousness. The stranger then spoke again, “So grown, so mature, yet, so young.” The icy touch lifted from Carbine’s body. “I want a status report tomorrow night, any action that appears aggressive or strange with this one is to be written accurately.” The guards replied in unison, “Yes, sir.” The cell was shut and locked and the guards and stranger began to walk back down the hall out of ear-shot. The cell soon returned to room temperature and Carbine’s worries were confirmed, he was being watched. “No one’s body temperature could possibly be as cold as death…” he shifted on the mattress again, “Yet, I felt it. As cold as ice, someone laid there hand on me and it felt as if life had left it.”

Carbine got up from the bed and went to the cell door. He looked through the bars down the hall, the guards and the stranger where no longer visible. Carbine turned back and picked up a piece of the broken mirror that was shattered from his recent brawl with his cell mates. Carbine stared at his reflection which was illuminated by the pail moon light through the barred cell window. He stared at his reflection, still not over his new appearance. He moved his new mechanical elbow joints continuously and listened to the artificial joints as they turned. The slowly impending reality of Carbine’s new body was nearly unnerving to him.

He looked back at the moon, then back at his reflection. He dropped the chunk of mirror back onto the floor, the impact echoed throughout the entire hall of the holding cells. Carbine lay back upon the bottom bunk and starred up at the worn bottom of the top bunk mattress. He could not stay awake any longer, his restlessness has reached its limit and his eyes became heavy, “I need to preserve energy, if I don’t I will surely not make it through the first day of this prison…” Carbine fell into what will become a very small sleep.