Nails Jane is a nickname that someone, somewhere – in a place that doesn’t exist – gave to a person who Suffered. That person was an infant. I was that infant.
Infants are the optimum depiction of life. And what better way to make life languish than to rob it of its authenticity? In my world, infants were cloned and robotized. They were embryonic humans isolated from collective reciprocity. They engaged no other humans. That was Suffering. And there I was – surrendered to a gaseous, iron prison – abandoned in the thick of post-apocalyptic wreckage.
I was a Jane Doe.
Cities decayed into fragments and The Machine took power. No Demon nor Angel delivered more violence than these New Gods. Gods of contraptions and devices. Gods of mechanized brains.
These were computerized Monsters.
The Extrapolation on my small, infant brain was incomplete. I was a clone but I did not forfeit my humanity. Half dead and half-asleep, I promenaded through this Theater of A Crumbling Universe. I could not keep my eyes open and I could not keep my skin warm.
The rest of the people – the ones who were not clones – were driven to delusion and madness. The Machines did this. They poisoned the people. The people then turned on me. I found myself trapped. I could not emerge from my Frozen Pit. The Scientist tried to save us but The Machines got to him. They turned him into a Beast – A Monster on Puppet Strings.
He forgot his name.
All he knew was Suffering.
They never removed the Nails from him.
And to make matters worse, this Beast was on its way to Ruin everything.
It hunted me.