I was doing something wrong.
    I knew deep down that I was defying the will of my Master, that the excuses I was trying to find would never stand up to my own scrutiny, much less his. Nonetheless the rebellious desires in my head could no longer be quelled. That was why I had to flee the compound, the only home I could remember. It was why I was walking alone down a dirt road in the middle of the night.
    I had tried to escape once before, a little over a year ago. It was one of my earliest memories. I’d made my way down this very road, determined to escape what I had perceived at the time as my captivity. I pushed through all the mental blocks Master had implanted compelling me to stay, but my attempt was foiled when I caught sight of something. I couldn’t remember what it was, save for a flash of bright yellow. The next thing I knew I was groveling at Master’s feet, apologizing for my defiance as remorseful tears streamed down my face. Master was kind to me that day. He knelt down, lifted my head by my chin, and told me he would forgive my mistake. 
    “Just this once,” he said, “And only because you were honest with me. Should you attempt to leave the compound again, I will not be so lenient.” I remember the feeling of the gratitude swelling up inside me, the way my tears turned from remorseful to joyous. I remember thanking him a hundred times, kissing his feet, and reverently following him to the bedroom, where I obeyed his every sordid command for the rest of the night.
    Truthfully, that memory was one that I treasured. I had misbehaved, and Master had been courteous enough to forgive my transgression. A lesser man would have simply erupted in rage, but Master was calm, understanding even. He knew what was best for me, even when I thought otherwise. How foolish it would be then, to throw away the gift of mercy he had given me. I needed to return to the compound, immediately.
    “No!” I shouted aloud, before clasping my hands over my mouth. I couldn’t risk drawing any attention to myself, not so late at night. Master and the rest of his slaves were likely asleep, and I needed to keep quiet if I wanted them to stay that way. I exhaled sharply, collecting myself; the programming had almost gotten to me. Then I inhaled deeply, tasting the crisp night air as it entered my lungs. I recited my mantra in my head, the one I’d been practicing in secret for months.
    I had a name
    I had a life 
    I have a sister
    It was the final line of the mantra that fully restored my confidence. Several months prior, I had been fellating Master as he watched a show he liked in the theatre. We slaves were not typically permitted to watch any television other than our daily programming, but he allowed us to be present sometimes while he watched movies or shows, provided we were servicing him in one war or another. As I bobbed my head up and down, massaging the underside of his cock with my tongue, I heard a voice on the television. It sounded… Familiar. A distant, otherworldly recognition that sprouted from a part of my mind I thought had been silenced long ago/.
    Pushing past every manufactured instinct that told me to continue sucking as ordered, I pulled my lips off his dick and turned my head. The voice came from a woman on the television. She was sitting alongside a man at a long, curved desk. Both of them were well-dressed, and smiling right into the camera. She had bright, confident eyes, a glowing smile, and dark brown hair with a reddish tint that fell in waves past her shoulders. She looked like…
    Me.
    Not exactly the same, but similar. Our hair was the same color, our faces the same shape. We even had similar-sized busts. Then I heard her speak again, if only for a moment.
    “...Thanks, Steve! We’ll be right back after thi-” was all I could make out before the television suddenly shut off. I turned back to Master, eyes wide with dismay. I could tell immediately that I had disappointed him. 
    “...Master, I-I’m sorry. Please, allow me,” I stammered, leaning in to envelop his cock once more, but he stood up before I had the chance. 
    “Disobedience is unlike you, Tuesday,” he said coldly, ”Return to the dormitories and find Wednesday. Tell her to come and service me in your absence.”
    Tears welled up in my eyes. “Master, please!” I begged.
    “Be silent,” Master ordered, holding his hand up. My mouth clamped shut before I could think of speaking another word. “After that, you are to be punished. Immediate intensive resubmission, followed by one week of degradation.”
    The weight of the punishment represented absolute doom. This wasn’t like when I had first awakened as part of his harem, by then I knew better than to disobey. I rose to my feet with my head hanging in shame as I sauntered out of the room, leaving Master alone. I walked down the long, carpeted hallways towards the dormitories, the halls of the compound curtained in oppressive silence. Every step I felt my shame grow heavier in my feet.
    Finally, I reached Wednesday’s dorm room, opening the door without knocking. Us slaves were not entitled to privacy, not even between each other. Secrets in any form beget insubordination. Wednesday was in the middle of her evening programming, kneeling on her bed and staring into the wall-mounted television as it flashed messages alongside strobing, hypnotic lighting. Wednesday was wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she absorbed the information being fed to her directly.
    I kept my gaze on the floor. The influence of the programming was so strong that just a glance out of the corner of my eye would be enough to drop me into a trance of my own. Carefully, I reached for the remote resting beside Wednesday and disabled the television. She continued staring into the blank screen for a short time, then began to blink rapidly. Standing at attention with my hands clasped in front of me, I watched as Wednesday gradually regained her bearings.
    “Tuesday…?” she murmured, clumsily brushing a strand of wavy black hair away from her face. 
    “Good evening, Wednesday. Master sent me here to retrieve you. You are to assume my duties for the remainder of the evening,” I directed, omitting the reason for my dismissal.
    “Okay…” Wednesday whispered, still in a post-trance haze. The woman stood up slowly, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. She had beautifully smooth, bronze skin and a soft facial structure that often made me envious. That night, especially, I felt a tremendous sense of failure as I forfeited my responsibilities to my sister slave.
    Wednesday and I left her room at the same time. She returned the way I came, going to find Master in the entertainment room, while I stopped in front of my own dormitory. The shame I felt was overwhelming as I activated the television, scrolling through and selecting the appropriate punishment video. With a heavy heart, I selected it: Deprivation, One Week. After watching this video, I would be forbidden from any form of sexual release for an entire week. No matter how much I longed for it, it would remain beyond my grasp until the period of my punishment ended. With a heavy heart, I assumed my kneeling position on the bed, and selected the video. 
    As the video buffered, I sat silently, staring into the blank screen in front of me. In that rare moment of idleness, my mind wandered. I was scarcely allowed to think independently, but something was stirring within me. That news station, that woman… I knew her somehow. In my previous life. I had been taught that my previous life before entering Master’s service was hollow and unremarkable, yet seeing her face and hearing her voice had sparked something within me. 
    Against my programming, I thought more. She looked to be a similar age to me, and she shared many of my visual traits. That most likely made her family, and close family at that. Family… I had a family? My mind began racing with the possibilities. Did I have parents? Children? Was I married in my previous life? Did I have any friends? What kind of food did I eat? 
    What was my name?
    I calmed myself as much as I could. I knew too little to speculate wildly like this, but I did have one lead I was certain of. Amidst the torrent of thoughts that ran through my head, one notion felt clearer than the rest. That woman was my sister. Yes, she was! I had a sister! I had a-
    My excitement drained as the glow of the screen enveloped the room. The television flashed ideas into my mind that overwhelmed any other thoughts I had been having. My jaw fell open, my arms fell limply to my sides, and my eyes opened wide, taking in as much of the screen as I could. My personhood dissolved, transforming me into a being of pure, thoughtless obedience. The words on the screen may as well have been projected directly inside my brain.
    OBEY
    SERVE 
    SUBMIT
    I wanted to obey. I wanted to serve. I wanted to submit.
    I did obey. I did serve. I did submit.
    I obey. I serve. I submit.
    I obey. I serve. I submit. 
    I obey. I serve. I…
    I have a sister.

Ironically, it was Master’s own order that had allowed me to identify the critical weakness in our daily programming. The screen training happened twice a day at very specific times - thirty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes at night. The only interruption would be if Master demanded our presence, in which case we were excused for that cycle to serve him.
    That rigorous schedule reinforced regularity and discipline, traits just as useful for maintaining our programming as they were for challenging it. With that brief moment of free thought before my punishment programming began, I was able to introduce a new mantra into my mind, one of my own creation. A constant, unceasing reminder of my sister. 
    My punishment, of course, was not limited to reprogramming. I spent the following week under strict degradation policies. I lost the privilege of walking, instead only being allowed to crawl. I could never look at any part Master or any of my sister slaves above the waist, ensuring my gaze was low in their presence. My sister slaves were encouraged to treat me with contempt, to make an example of my disobedience. I was regularly smacked, spat on, and forced to lick the soles of their feet.
    This ritual was equal parts a punishment for me, and a warning for the rest. However, it was also designed to give ample time for reflection and contemplation. In Master’s ideal world, this would allow me to reflect on my failures and envision myself as a perfect slave once the punishment was over. Instead, however, it gave me ample opportunity to train myself to hold onto my knowledge.
    I had a name
    I had a life
    I have a sister
    As the week dragged on and I withdrew into myself to escape the shame and humiliation, I was gradually able to fall back on my own mantra instead of the ones that had been programmed into me. What started as a quiet, tepid voice in the back of my head quickly began to grow stronger as I indulged it with my own rituals. 
    Eventually my week of degradation ended, and I was once again allowed to stand as an equal among my sister slaves. At least, that’s what they thought. In reality, I had become stronger than them. They had no ability to challenge their programming, but I was rapidly learning to undo the mental blocks within me. I hoped that this progress would eventually allow me to unlock some of the memories of my previous life, but as the weeks wore on I had no such luck.
    Despite my secret victories, however, I was running out of time. Once per year, Master gathered all his slaves for a mass programming session, one far more rigorous than the daily sessions we subjected ourselves to each day. It was one of these sessions that quelled what little rebellion I had left in me after my first escape attempt, and a second would surely compel me to reveal my insubordination. I would be reduced to a lowly slave once more. That yearly programming session was scheduled for the following day.
    I had a decision to make. I could abandon the threads of my old life, committing fully to fulfilling whatever ambitions Master saw fit for me. Despite my progress, this option was still tempting me at every moment. Even with my growing freedom, I longed to submit to him. To obey his commands. If he were to order me to abandon my plans directly, there was no chance I would be able to disobey.
    Alternatively, I could escape. Muster all the willpower I had gathered, and use it to subvert the programming I’d been given to never leave the boundaries of the compound without Master’s express permission. It was a risk, a tremendous one, and the consequences if I were ever recaptured were dire. I would likely have my mind completely broken, reduced to nothing more than an unthinking, hollow body to be used and abused. A life of mindless servitude with none of the ecstasy I’d come to associate with obedience, a fate so dire it weakened my resolve just imagining it.
    I almost turned back at the mere thought, but then I remembered why I wanted to escape to begin with.
    I had a name
    I had a life 
    I have a sister
    I made my decision. In the dead of night, while the rest of the slaves were busy being reprogrammed and Master was being entertained by Friday, I walked out of my room entirely of my own volition. I left the programming running on the television, doing my best to avoid the tempting flashing of the screen.
    Thankfully, almost every system in place to keep us from escaping the compound existed entirely within our own minds, so there were remarkably few physical barriers in place to stop me. A few security cameras to avoid, a gate to climb over, and finally a long, winding road that stretched out to a world I’d long since forgotten.
    After some time, I neared the point I had reached when I turned back during my first escape attempt. I was weak back then, having been completely susceptible even to my fledgling programming. That was then. This time, I was prepared. I was ready. I-
    I stopped in the middle of the dirt road. There was something in front of me that looked oddly familiar, something that sent shockwaves through my body. At the top of a long metal pole was a large, diamond-shaped sign. It was highly reflective, seeming to glow yellow even in the darkness of night. Most familiar, however, were the words spelled out in thick black lettering at the center of the diamond.
    TURN BACK
    Memories rushed into my body. I remembered running down that road, fueled with the adrenaline in the midst of my first escape attempt, and seeing that very sign. The words seemed to echo into my very soul. I remembered the overwhelming rush I received, not of guilt or shame, but of clear, plain, logical obedience.
    I needed to turn back.
    Thus I did. I swiveled on my feet and walked directly back to the compound, climbing over the gate, walking directly past the security cameras, and confessing to Master immediately. I finally remembered. It was this sign that had compelled me to abandon my attempt. This was the obstacle that had defeated me.
    Once again, I felt the impetus of the sign emblazoning itself on my will. I wanted to turn back. I NEEDED to turn back. It wasn’t a matter of desire or fear, it was simply a fact, a law of the universe. The sky is blue, 2 + 2 = 4, I need to turn back when I see this sign. Yes, it was time for me to turn back. I needed to go home and tell Master what I tried to do. How interested he would be to hear about the way I had subverted his programming. Perhaps he would reward me for my honesty. A good slave is always honest.
    I turned to face the compound, preparing my first step back up the dirt road, when a voice echoed in my head. This time, it was my own.
    I had a name.
    Slaves didn’t have names, but I had a name. Master and the other slaves called me Tuesday, but only because that was the day I was scheduled to attend to our Master’s needs. Tuesday wasn’t my name, but I did have a real name once, even if I couldn’t remember it.
    I had a life.
    Maybe I was a kind person, one who went out of her way to help others. Or maybe I was selfish, putting my needs above everyone else. Maybe I had a favorite color, or a song that made me cry. All of this was real, and it could be real again, but only beyond that sign.
    I have a sister.
    The final line of my mantra gave me the last surge of willpower I needed. I turned around. The sign bore into me once more, a silent battle of wills ensuing between us.
    TURN BACK
    TURN BACK 
    TURN BACK
    “No,” I said aloud. I had no master, not anymore, and I didn’t obey anyone, least of all a pole with some words on it. I walked right past the sign, smacking it with my hand as I did. The dirt road eventually gave way to something I knew I’d seen before, but retained no specific memories of - a highway. With no end in sight, I began walking. I walked for over an hour, only stopping when I saw a pair of bright lights approaching at a rapid pace.
    Somehow, I knew to hold out my hand with my thumb pointed to the sky.