Who is Elodi?

Who is Elodi?

Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound buzzed into my ears like a pestering fly birthed from the work of art that is three separate clocks, the firetruck red one displaying seconds and the other two ivy green and royal purple ones showing minutes and hours, all stacked on top of each other like a gravity-defying tiered cake. Sunshine overflowed through the coloured windows illuminating the room like a rainbow after the storm of night. I lazily dropped my hand down onto one of the forty-two classic big red buttons to my right on the curvy glass nightstand and suddenly a marble materialised out of thin air with a pop.

Today's colour is blue! I thought to myself cheerfully.

The marble began to roll down a number of multi-coloured wooden ramps, jumping between gaps, spiralling down a rusty coil and then getting blown up by an angled gust of wind before making a sharp left turn mid-air and landing perfectly into a hole on the top clock cake silencing it's beeping melody. I walked out onto the bedroom floor and each step played a different note; not a single one was off key.

Seems like I woke up on the right side of the bed this morning, I silently announced while smiling sweetly. 

As I continued to do my morning routine, the ding of the toaster joined the symphony and an outfit with poofy sheer sleeves, pink-accented knee-high socks, and a frilly purple dress floated towards me and stuck itself on my body. I heard the phrase "Elodi, are you ready?" spoken by House-y, and I suddenly fell out of the nearest opening of my house with butter, toast and a dull knife following closely behind. 

"See you tonight House-y!"

My long luscious locks blocked my view but I somehow managed to get buttered toast in my mouth. As the endless waves of fresh grass came into view, like a lush green canvas painted with splashes of dazzling flowers, I fell right onto the petal of a giant orchid and slid right down it, greeted by a sweet, earthy smell.

"Good morning Wonderland!" 

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Bang. Bang. Bang. The king of calamities rained down upon Wonderland, draping a coat of corruption and pure wickedness. The previously glorious shooting stars were replaced with fleets of forceful space crafts and out of those white metal objects emerged Cylores. A species, if I can even call them that, of cyborgs whose only goal is to convert every living being in the galaxy. They're more like a virus, infecting a host's brain and convincing them that they're Cylorian. My head filled with malice and panic for why they could be here… but I already knew… and it was too late.

Capturing the animals and flowers in blue cubic cages made of translucent screens with numbers running down them, until it landed on a big bold zero.

"NOOO!! Please!!!" The little boy I usually saw frolicking in the meadow wailed until he saw me hidden behind the stump of an ancient oak tree, "Elodi! Elodi! HELP ME!!!!SAVE ME!!!!". All that was left was a wisp of smoke and a cry of agony fueled by hateful tears. His brain was still developing, not fit for the surgery, before the Cylores made an attempt to capture me. The Clyores never make mistakes. No one was spared. 

"AHHHHHH!!!!" I howled in pain and my vision blacked out. Glimpses of metallic hands and surgical tools flashed in my head before I blacked out again. 

They trapped every living thing they could get their cold hands on and stored away all with a number higher than five. Now, six years later, I understand what the number meant; how compatible you are for the change. Endless of my kin were taken away to labs on the edge of dead Wonderland or as they call it 'the city borders' to be converted into mechanical monsters like them, made into mindless citizens obeying the same set of rules. They carve out the hippocampus, place it into one of their standard 1.7m x 0.6m x 0.3m shells and plant a microchip in for the cherry on top; it alters the user's memories and makes them forget their entire past life. Then after the twenty-minute surgery, a new Clylore is born and a part of Wonderland is gone forever. I still haven't found any other survivors like me but I'm sure they're out there somewhere, if I could get away then surely others could too. Right? Everything fades to black.

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Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound barely croaked out of the plain black, paint-stripped alarm clock. 

"No, I'm not ready yet, Hou….se-y". My voice trailed off in realisation.

 I glanced at the menace creating a headache in my head and buried myself deeper into the thin musty sheets; my nightmare becoming reality. Eventually, I picked myself up just to look down at my disgrace of a bed, deep yellow grass sandwiched between two sheets of cardboard and a stained old sack stuffed with drying leaves. The mouldy wooden floor creaked under my weight as I made my way to open the window to let in a dim glow. My only company out here is the occasional rustles that the wind makes to comfort me, a part of me still thinks it could be a ratirdootle, a rat, bird and poodle mix, but of course… it never is. 

As I peer past the dusty window, rows of straight stomping steel feet parade forward from all crevices towards the city fountain where the whimsical wishing pond used to be. It's pathetic how they tried to copy some aspects of Wonderland, just the thought makes me disgusted. 

Today's the annual health repair isn't it?

With no time to ponder on irrelevant matters, I got to work making sure I could make it to see another dreary morning. I grasped at an old 3L milk carton , you can always rely on good old plastic to last you through the years I thought to myself but then banged my arm on the doorframe and a loud hollow clang reverberated through the room. I made my way to a weak stream flowing near one of the old conversion labs, ever since the battle, my walking has stiffened and my walking patterns became very straight. The concrete was beginning to crack and forest vines were filling their way into them. It's been so long since they did the last conversion I contemplated whilst taking in the features of the dilapidated structure and started filling up my carton with today's water supply. 

The classic futuristic city scene gleaming from a white dwarf star, skyscrapers built to touch the dimming stars, sprinkled with rectangular grey-tinted windows and doused in titanium white paint. Flying structures of all kinds ruled the air and a group of newly updated Clyores could be seen going down to the 'closet'. The machine encased one of them and out it came with a designer triceratops leather bag and a headband embedded with stegosaurus spikes on her mannequin-like head; the retro style. 

I scavenged the city for food like I've been doing for the past six years. It isn't very successful though since Cylores don't need to eat, maybe scraps from a Cylore that enjoys cooking will do. All of a sudden, two robotic voices tore through the muddled silence.

"Oi! You there! Aren't you that freak that lives on the city borders?" 

"Oh yeah! The failure whose microchip is a couple of millimetres off!"

"You haven't shown up in public for years, get those stiff steel legs moving or else you'll miss the software update. These updates are just for psychos like you."

"Yeah, get a move on Clyore number 455!" 

They're right. "W-who is E-E-Elo-d-di?" Cylore number 455 said.