The Signal (Short Story)

Anna Shelley - music, guided meditations, visionary art, channeled musings

We talked for hours at a time. We held hands. We connected energetically, and felt an enormous rush of our souls merging.

We knew we were meant to be together, but it just never happened.

The robots had already started taking over. We dare not publically state our emotion.

Already, some of our friends had been brainwashed. Their voices changing to that nasal digital tone, their mechanical movements, and worst of all – their orders. Over time, even their physical appearance became that of the robots, black helmets and all.

The robots had arrived from another planet. We didn’t know if they were enslaving us or controlling our minds for more sinister uses. No one was immune.

We saw our friends have their minds taken over. We knew it would be our turn soon. We loved each other so intensely, we loved the freedom of expressing ourselves with each other, but we did not lament our lack of time together. We knew that whatever would happen, would inevitably happen, and while we could not control the outcome, we could at least take comfort in our current freedom of thought.

One evening I noticed his voice had started to change. It was higher, lacking expression, and starting to digitise. Mind control. It had started on him.

We quickly came up with a hand sign to convey an expression, acknowledgement, a sign of connection, for when we could no longer speak to each other.

An army of robots marched us out of our living quarters.

We signaled to each other.

I didn’t know if we would ever be free of mind to signal again.

I never even knew his name.