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Even the grim routines of cyber-slavery could not permanently crush the Downer spirit. Once they became accustomed to their toil– which this "day" consisted of repairing a broken bridge-like structure, the virtual representation of a damaged circuit– the slaves fell back into the human habit of chatting. As they compared notes, they began to realise something strange was going on. Some had heard bot-like noises in the cells adjoining theirs; others had intercepted part of a frantic transmission from Nerwen and Aganzir.
"Some of us," they said in whispers, trying to avoid the attention of their overseer-bots, "are not what they seem…"
But no-one could agree who was acting the most robot-like.
Some favoured Morsul the Dark, others Boro.
"It's Blind Guardian," Sally and Lottie argued. "She's not here, which is very evil of her indeed."
"Yes I am," Blind Guardian piped up. "Here, I mean, not evil. Wherever here is. Where are we? Who are we? How do we play this, again?"
"The poor thing's just disoriented," said the figure who occasionally looked like Karl Marx. "Leave her alone.”
"Rune's right," said Galadriel55, nodding her daffodil-bells. "We should lynch him instead."
"Good! Let me take care of him!" cried Legate, snatching up a light-whip that one of the overseer-bots had left lying around (there were a few glitches in their coding).
The whip extended as it lashed its target, spiralled up and down his virtual body, brightening into a column of unbearably brilliant energy.
When it faded, there was no sign of Rune.
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In the real world, another young coma patient gave up his feeble grip on life. Another family mourned.
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Living
Inziladun
Galadriel55
Sally
Legate
Kitanna
Boromir88
Blind Guardian
Loslote
Morsul the Dark
Shasta
Dead
Coppermirror, Lommy– seized by Adult Friend Finder.
Nerwen, Aganzir– poisoned by webcrawlers.
Rune– lashed to death with overseer-bot’s light whip. (Ordinary cyber-slave.)
It is now Night Two.