Nullform #1: RealRPG Series полностью

My legs obeyed me with a jerk. My shoulder scraped along the wall. I rested my right palm against its solid presence, and leaned forward, forcing my lethargic, slow, trembling legs to take the first step. You got this... Come on... You’re so close... Move your rented limbs, Eleven. Move ‘em. I had to remember to keep my left elbow close to my torso, because I knew if one of the indifferent people walking by bumped it, I’d end up right back on the floor, writhing in pain. I probably wouldn’t be able to stand up again, and then someone would earn their three sol for my interment... Why did they say interment, not funeral?

Why did I get an old man’s arms and legs?

Why did they stitch someone else’s limbs to me in the first place?

Where are my real arms and legs?

I took a look at the shoulder that rested against the wall. An ugly red scar encircled it. Were the arms and legs attached to my body joints and all? Was it some kind of advanced technology or just a hack job? And why don’t I remember anything?

After another step, my shoulder brushed against a square door in the wall. It was flush to the surface, narrow, and high, but outlined with a thick green line that made it easy to spot. A small black glass square sat at the bottom. I looked briefly at the people nearby, getting my bearings, then stepped in front of the door, moved back a little, and paused.

A robotic voice indifferently identified me.

“Eleven. ORL.”

Those same words flashed in front of my blurred vision:

Eleven. (ORL)

The door silently slid upwards, revealing a deep, well-lit niche with a rounded, perforated-steel armchair. The armrests were wide — very wide. The whole structure stood on one round leg. I awkwardly turned myself around and sat down, glad to give my legs even a few moments of relief. The door closed silently, cutting me off from the corridor and any passing glances.

Closing in 01:59… 01:58…

The first thing I saw was a large plastic glass of water rising from the armrest. I grabbed it in one shaky hand.

Reminder: return the water container to its original position after consumption.

I raised the cup to my chapped lips and began to drink or, rather, pour the precious water into myself, not stopping until the glass was empty of every last drop. I put it back in the armrest, looking hopefully at the glass I had emptied so quickly through the gray fog and iridescent ripples that flashed across my vision.

Closing in 01:41… 01:40…

I heard the sound of water. The glass filled up again.

First (of three daily) water limits reached. (ORL)

The text appearing and disappearing in my field of vision didn’t surprise me anymore.

It’s like augmented reality, right? I’m pretty sure it’s a common thing.

I drank the second glass just as greedily, not spilling a single drop. If I had estimated the volume correctly, I now had a liter of water inside me. I hoped my tissues would absorb it quickly.

Injection. (ORL)

A glowing green animation started playing. A little human figure sat in a little chair, not moving, while big green numbers counted down from three to zero above him. That was it.

What are they about to inject me with? Is this a good idea?

Yes. I had to go along with it. I was pretty sure they weren’t going to try and kill me.

I heard a hissing noise and closed my eyes. The countdown started.

Three.

I gasped as something jabbed sharply into my lower jaw.

Two. Another fiery shot.

One...

And a third.

Zero.

Procedure complete.

Immunosuppressant injection (ORL) — complete.

Daily vitamin injection (ORL) — complete.

Anesthetic injection (O) — complete.

First meal dispensing.

There was a click, and a little yellow-gray cube popped out of the other armrest right by my hand.

This was my first meal? Not much of a breakfast... it couldn’t have been more than one square inch.

I took the cube, slowly and carefully raised myself out of the armchair, and went out into the hallway. The door slid silently closed behind me. What was that place? An infirmary? A cafeteria? Both?