The Killing Rooms

The Killing Rooms

Thoughts were cloudy as he came to, like sludge. There was only lingering darkness, remembered pain and the taste of blood. He groaned as he rose to his hands and knees.

One endless set of footprints in the sand, sinking in, leaving marks. The artificial neural network was not entirely erasing his previous incarnations. He’d been run too many times. It was the same way the human brain worked, after all. Patterns, ruts, grooves. Just like a record. Footprints in the mud. He blinked at the vision of a girl with murderous intent in a red coat.

“Nein!” he cried, holding out his hand, unable to defend himself. “Bitte! Warten!” He had no knowledge of himself, but there was no mercy. She wielded a claw hammer and it fell hard while she screamed in fury. It took too long to pass out of awareness again. He died with the taste of blood on his tongue, lost to the momentary oblivion of detached binary transistor switches.

~~~~~~

She took a deep breath and left the room, feeling a strange satisfaction, a weight lifted. A room next door advertised: Remember, remember the fifth of november.

There was a queue for Hitler. There always was in the morning before work. Mistakenly, she met the eye of someone waiting and shivered.

We thrive on hate. It’s what he would have wanted.

The flash of clarity felt criminal. There was no friendly face to be seen. The terrible weight settled upon her once more as she stared at her own hands. It was far too late.

She decided to kill Hitler again as soon as she could after work.