It was late at night, and the metro car was almost empty of life. Despite this, the car’s electrical lights were still active, the wheels still clacking along the rails. The metro line was near its final stop, a place on the city outskirts that few people ever visited. For those who lived out there, the general mood was to stay quiet and not ask questions. Everyone out there lived for certain reasons; questioning those reasons was a way to get in trouble.

Evelyn Barrow sat in a seat near one of the doors of a car closer to the front of the train, her eyes reading through a chapter in a trade paperback romance book. Despite having read this book many times before, the prose and narrative gripped her mind every time. Still, she was not completely wrapped in the book. She knew her handbag was wrapped around her left shoulder. She knew she had a spare water bottle in there in case she got thirsty. Most of all, Evelyn knew she was not alone in the train car.

Every so often, Evelyn brought her eyes up to look around the car and check who else was waiting for the same stop on the metro line. Despite being a woman in her later 30’s, she could not escape the feeling some young women got late at night on public transportation. Checking her surroundings was a good thing to do.

There was a woman leaning on the side of “pudgy” seated at the other end of the car, her fingers tapping rapidly on her cell phone. She wore a baggy dress and worn sneakers; her brown hair was held in place by a simple red headband. Like Evelyn, she was focused on something in her hands. She had been there for several stops already.

The other person in the car was a sleeping man in a rumpled suitcoat, slacks, and dirty dress shoes. He leaned against the rail, the metal pressing against his cheek without waking him up. Evelyn could not hear the man’s breathing over the car’s clacking sounds. She considered that a good thing. Too many people in suits did not have enough energy to get through the whole day looking clean and capable.

Compared to the two strangers, Evelyn was a bit more refined in her appearance. Having long black hair that went down to the middle of her back, sky-blue irises in her eyes, and a light tan to her skin, she had the aura of a woman for business. She also had her work attire on, a two-button blazer and pants colored dull gray after months of washing cycles. They had originally been a more vibrant, lighter shade of color, but being mixed in with darker skirts a few undergarments snuffed out that light.

Evelyn did not mind the loss of her clothes’ color so much. Like the old proverb said, “If the shoe fits, wear it”, and Evelyn was not one to frivolously spend money just to draw people’s gaze. Attention was something she would earn when she wanted to. And right now, she did not want attention in her life.

Satisfied with her observations, Evelyn turned her mind back to her book. After a moment to reorient herself in the story, she slowly slipped out of the car and into the book. In the back of her mind, Evelyn knew the final stop on the line was coming up soon. She would check when the car stopped again, as every stop meant the car had reached a station.

Despite having traveled on this metro line for months, Evelyn could not quite predict when the end of the line would appear. Sometimes it felt like minutes after she got in the car; sometimes it felt like half an hour. It probably related to how she kept her mind occupied with other things than looking at the scenery. Books, for instance.

A smirk flashed across Evelyn’s placid face, revealing an inner beauty in her tanned skin and sky-blue eyes she did not often show. She had no need to in her line of work, and she rarely met with people outside of online forum groups and chat message boards. Not having a face connected to her words helped Evelyn feel more comfortable speaking her mind. The Internet, and even books, were wonders for people like herself, seeking to temporarily escape the boring but practical side of the world.

Evelyn’s mind spontaneously jumped to the topic of her dinner. Some soup from the refrigerator seems good, she figured. Heat it up in the microwave and have some ice water to go with it. A simple meal, but one she could garner some enjoyment from. That was all she needed tonight; it had been a busy day, and she wanted to unwind in the safety of the little apartment she called home.

A vibrating sensation came from the pocket of Evelyn’s pants. Her cell phone was buzzing. She ignored it for the first buzz, but the second buzz got her attention. She blinked as she looked back around the car, wondering if her stop had come. Then she realized what was making her pants pocket feel hot.

Closing her book, Evelyn yanked out her phone with one hand and pressed the power button on the side of its case. The device, a basic smartphone, was in a muted green case; a flash of color that Evelyn allowed herself to have. The phone’s login screen flashed its normal rainbow display, and Evelyn quickly unlocked the device with her passcode. Glancing along the home page’s apps showed a small “2” over the Messaging application.

Two messages had just been sent to Evelyn’s number. This did not alarm her very much. An online friend looking to send her something, perhaps, or spam to delete right away. She opened the Messages app and checked the two new entries. They were from a number she did not recognize. The first one only had two words, emboldened in the message.

“Directive: Alpha.”

Evelyn’s finger hung over the message with two words, a moment away from deleting it. Her eyelids slowly drooped, taking a few seconds to close. A second later, Evelyn opened her eyes and stared at the phone screen with a glazed look. Her expression became a bit more rigid, a fraction tighter in the facial muscles. She sat up straighter in her seat and slowly inhaled some of the car’s air.

As Evelyn exhaled, her finger moved to the second new message. She pressed it and it opened to reveal a longer series of words. These were also emboldened.

“Confirm environment is secure for communication.”

Evelyn put her book back in her handbag, securing a small bookmark where she had stopped reading. She then looked around the car, checking the status and location of every other person in the car. She saw the other woman still tapping on her own phone, squinting her eyes to read what was on the small screen. She saw the suited man still sleeping where he was before, barely twitching as the car clattered over the rails.

Evelyn looked back to her phone and rapidly typed out a response to the second message. Her fingers moved with a swift autonomy, sculpting letters into words with no mistakes. Evelyn used a text filter to italicize her message, separating it from the emboldened words of the sender.

“Environment secure,” Evelyn sent. “Awaiting instructions.”

The unknown reader on the other side of the chat log did not take long to respond. They sent a new message, and Evelyn read it instantly.

“Capture visual identification.”

Evelyn slowly blinked again. Then she raised her phone up closer to her face and pressed a camera icon at the bottom of the screen. The phone’s camera function activated, showing what was in front of the phone at that moment. Evelyn took a moment to confirm the camera was working, and then pressed a “Flip” icon at the bottom of the camera’s screen. The camera flipped around to show Evelyn’s face to herself, with a bit of the train car’s interior framing the shot.

Evelyn’s expression looked a bit unsettling. It was not her normal neutral look, nor her usual “I only got a few hours of sleep” face. It seemed more refined, to the point that an observant viewer would have said “robotic”.

Evelyn did not care.

Evelyn pressed a button on her camera’s screen. A quiet “Click” was heard as the camera took a picture of her face, robotic expression and all. She then brought the phone down closer to her chest and went back to the Messenger app. It took only a few taps of her fingers to select the new photo in her files and attach it to the current message log.

Once the picture appeared in the log, Evelyn added the words, “Identification sent for confirmation,” in a separate entry below it. She swallowed, feeling a dryness in her throat. Her vision grew blurry as her thoughts started to jump around. Quickly rising to the forefront of her thoughts was a sense of worry.

Why am I doing this?

Evelyn’s mind whirred and spat out a response.

I am following instructions. This is good for me. It is necessary to follow instructions.

Evelyn blinked again. She took another slow breath. She could follow instructions, for sure. It did feel good to do that, she did it often enough at work. But this was not at her workplace—

A new entry appeared in the message log. It had new, emboldened letters. New instructions.

“Identity confirmed. Emotional state is unsuitable. Send additional photo with greater emotional output.”

Evelyn frowned. Her photo had been fine; she had followed the instructions. Why did the “emotional state” matter? But her anger only lasted for a small instant before the urge to complete her instructions took away that feeling. Her eyes, meanwhile, looked around the car again to check on any changes. Finding none, she raised the phone back up to her face, and then angled it slightly to give the image some visual appeal.

Evelyn gave her best smile as her mind drowned in warm thoughts. As if a lever was pulled to release happy emotions from her subconscious, she sank into a pool of bliss. This translated into her smile, showing the human side of her without appearing so happy or uncanny to be inhuman. One short click later and the picture was taken.

Evelyn’s happiness retracted back into her face with another mental lever pull. She uploaded the new photo and followed it with the words, “New photo is sent for approval.” Then she waited, slowly inhaling and exhaling with her eyes on the message log. It did not take long for a message to come back from the unknown member of the conversation.

“New photo has been approved. Thank you.”

A warm tingle shot through Evelyn’s body, stemming down from her brain to the tips of her fingers and toes. She shivered in her seat, wrapped up in a comforting embrace. All she could think about was the satisfaction of acknowledgement, of recognition for her labor. She had followed instructions, and she was being rewarded for following instructions.

Physically, Evelyn’s eyes flickered open and closed like a camera shutter. To a potential observer, it appeared like she had some dust in her eyes. Nothing serious beyond a passing concern, easily dismissible. To Evelyn, those few moments felt like hours of warmth, love, and care bundled together into a gift just for her. She embraced it, lights dancing in her mind’s eye as her muscles eased out some of their tension.

Sadly, the tingling warmth eventually faded away. Evelyn was left in a more relaxed posture and a calmer state of mind. Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and snapped back to rigid attention.

There was a new message in the log.

“Confirm if there is additional time for reporting.”

Evelyn looked around the car once again. She saw the flicker of some lights outside the car—outdoor lights this far down the metro line—and watched them pass out of her view. Her fingers typed, “Additional time is available for reporting” even as her eyes confirmed this was correct.

A small voice in the back of Evelyn’s mind projected a concerning thought. The train had not yet stopped at the next station. Was it delayed? Was the station farther away than she thought it was?

The greater part of Evelyn’s mind cordoned off this line of thinking. Don’t think about that right now. Follow the instructions. Follow the Directive.

In only a few seconds, a message came from the unknown initiator of the conversation.

“State the identity of this person.”

After a moment, a new picture appeared in the log. It was blurred in the background, as if taken while on the move. The background showed the counter, cash register, and display area of a coffee shop, with sample cup sizes and baked goods on display for customers. The primary focus of the image was a younger girl with blond hair tied into two pigtails, a face darkened by dim electrical lights positioned behind her, and narrow green eyes. The girl was speaking to a man who was only half in the photo, his back to the one holding the camera. The girl looked worn out, but not completely out of energy, in her white and blue worker’s uniform.

Evelyn swallowed, her lips hanging open a tiny bit. Memories of this girl came to the front of her thoughts, plucked from the vast collection of day-to-day encounters she had stored away. With clockwork movements, a collage of moving pictures formed for Evelyn to look over. She found these memories accurate; furthermore, they were helpful. They would help her follow the instructions she was given.

Evelyn’s fingers typed rapidly. “This is Mara Bailey,” she explained. “She is a worker at a coffee shop adjacent to my workplace.”

Evelyn took a moment to read over her words. The message was not the same as the others; it was more personal. Confirmation and self-identification were easy enough to accomplish on her own. Stating correct facts about someone else was harder. But Evelyn wanted to keep following her instructions, desiring at some miniscule level to experience that warm bliss again.

Evelyn sent the message without any further changes. It took the sender longer than before to respond.

“You have met this person before.”

A personal tone from the sender. Evelyn’s arms twitched as her mind flinched under scrutinization. The conversation had changed into something new. Sender and receiver were speaking directly to each other, showing more human sides to themselves. This did not happen often, and when it did it was treated with importance.

Evelyn gave herself a few extra seconds to think, really think, about what she was to send back. There were no instructions now, but the Directive prompted her to continue accepting what she read as true. To obey what she was told.

A dull burst of anger erupted in Emily’s mind. She shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling out of touch with the moment. She did not need to obey… did she?

Evelyn swallowed again, this time shutting her lips tight. They felt dry, like her throat was becoming. She should drink some water soon. But not right now.

Quick movements of Evelyn’s fingers generated an answer to the sender’s disguised instructions.

“I have, yes. Mostly chatting during my lunch break. I often have my lunch at the shop.”

The sender gave a new message far quicker than Evelyn was ready for. This time, the instructions were clear.

“Confirm the willingness of this person for recruitment.”

Evelyn’s shoulders tightened, a cold trickle sliding down her spine. She stared at the message with momentary fear, especially that last word.

Recruitment.

The implications Evelyn imagined from “recruiting” someone as instructed were not safe for work. For an instant, Evelyn felt inexplicably distant from what was going on. She was a passenger in her body, being given instructions and giving out her identity and personal secrets. Doing this without caring about what it meant to other people.

Evelyn panicked. Within the bowels of her own mind, she stared at a distant window connected to her body’s eyes. She pulled against bindings she could not identify. She moved up to the window, the bindings not allowing her to manipulate that viewpoint in any way. She looked through what parts of the log she could still see, and she felt scared.

The bindings pulsed, spreading new sensations along the trapped Evelyn’s nerves. She gasped, and she remembered.

A warm hand placed on Evelyn’s shoulder when she felt at a low point in her life.

A comforting cup of tea, given by Evelyn’s close friend from work.

A smile from this friend as they showed Evelyn a video on their phone.

A series of words whispered into Evelyn’s ears as she watched the video.

A question: “Do you want this, Evelyn?”

An answer: “I do. I really do.”

A mixture of warm, soothing colors leaving Evelyn smiling and nodding, smiling and nodding.

A feeling of compliance filling Evelyn to the brim with warm, tingly happiness.

A final feeling of trust, of acceptance, towards Evelyn’s friend.

A shared kiss on the cheek as the coworkers parted ways, being recruited into the same collective of united minds.

Evelyn remembered it all. And through it all, she recognized the trust she had given and been given in turn. The fears she had felt were held back, not given permission to build up power. Paranoia was not allowed to seize control; the recruitment was a ladder to help her climb out of a hole, and she took it when offered.

The instructions were not orders. They were given as a check-up, as a coworker would check on a colleague stricken with problems. Evelyn’s fears were justified, but remembering why she was doing this put those fears to rest.

Evelyn smiled, which translated to a small smile on her lips. She then typed out a message with her honest feelings about Mara Bailey.

“This person’s willingness for recruitment is high. They have stated a desire to leave their workplace behind, but do not have the money or connections to do so.”

The message was sent, and Evelyn waited for an answer. It came after a few seconds’ tense waiting.

“Thank you.”

Another warm tingling came, and Evelyn welcomed it in. It reminded her of why she had chosen to be recruited at all. She had chosen to do it. She just needed a reminder of why to fully accept it again.

A new message appeared in the log. Evelyn quickly looked at it.

“No further reporting is necessary. Disengage Directive: Alpha.”

Evelyn exhaled. Her body went into automatic motions, things her subconscious remembered. A few taps and swipes of her fingers led to the two messages containing Directive: Alpha being cleared from her phone’s logs. She then slid the phone into her pants pocket, took out her book from her handbag, and flipped back to where she had put her bookmark.

As soon as Evelyn started reading the words on the pages, her eyes slowly closed as her facial muscles relaxed. Then, Evelyn opened her eyes with a quick shiver. Instinctively, she looked around herself.

She was still inside the metro car. The two people she had seen before had not moved from their prior places. The book was still in her hands. She felt comfortable. Everything was normal.

Huh. I guess I dozed off.

Licking her dry throat, Evelyn reached into her handbag and pulled out the small water bottle inside there. Unscrewing the cap, she quenched her thirst with a few sips of the stored liquid. She felt more ready now to unwind for the evening. Nothing else important was going on tonight, and she wanted to be ready for what may come tomorrow.