Mackenzie could feel the anxiety in her stomach as she stepped out of the shower. Today was the big day.

She had volunteered months ago to serve as one of the drones at Dronecon. She'd been into it before, and had even experimented with limited drone play in the past. But this promised something far more intense. A six hour shift, spent as a mindless drone. She had enough experience to know the intense kind of hypnosis it would require to pull something like that off. The application form had even mentioned that volunteers needed to show up a day early, as the conditioning and programming would take an entire day.

And now that day was here. She was nervous and excited in equal measure. She rushed to finish drying off, before grabbing some underwear from her dresser, which she quickly threw on. She turned to her closet, trying to decide on her outfit. She eventually put together something she liked. A black denim jacket was layered on top of a white T-shirt, depicting the cover art of the Pixies' album Surfer Rosa. The shirt and jacket were both cropped, showing off a good amount of midriff. A belt hung loose in the loops of her miniskirt. Dark red tights ran down her legs and into her combat boots.

It might seem silly to go all-out for an all-day brainwashing marathon, but that was the point. Mackenzie had remembered reading about the conditioning process on the application. She had read about how the process was designed to basically wipe her mind temporarily, turning her into little more than a thing, devoid of personality, mentally identical to all the other drones she'd be surrounded with. There was an irony to dressing in such a distinctive manner, while going to an event designed to strip away her personality, that she found amusing.

Having finally finished getting ready, she rushed out the door, catching a bus that would take her to the convention center. As she sat in her seat, she bounced her leg on the floor, scrolling through the convention's website on her phone. She kept coming back to the section that described the conditioning process, reading it over and over. She got a little more excited each time she did so. Everything about it was so much bigger than anything she'd ever imagined with hypnosis and drone play.

Drone play was something she'd experienced in the past, with different partners. She knew she was capable of dropping deep, of letting her mind go blank and her sense of self disappear. But those had always been small bursts. Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes. The longest she'd spent in drone space was an hour. What would it be like to spend six hours like that? And the conditioning to get there? Twelve hours of brainwashing? She could only imagine how intense that would be.

The bus lurched forward slightly as it slowed to a stop, pulling Mackenzie from her thoughts. She stood up from her seat, glancing out the window. The convention center stood tall before her, a large sign out in front of it. In big, bold letters, the sign read "DRONECON". She could feel a few odd glances on her as she stepped to the front and exited the bus, but she ignored them. She was too excited to care, eager to see what was in store for her.

She walked up to the front door, where a staffer was waiting. He greeted her with a smile.

"Hi! You must be here for volunteer orientation, correct?"

She nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah, that's the goal."

The man nodded, giving her another reassuring smile.

"I'll just need to see the badge that was emailed to you."

She took out her phone and pulled up the email she had received the night before. The man scanned to code in the email, then turned to open the door.

"Alright, Mackenzie," he said, turning back to her. "Welcome to Dronecon. You'll find orientation in Panel Room One. It's straight ahead through the hall. You'll see it when you walk in."

She returned his smile, albeit more nervously than his. She thanked him, then walked inside.

She couldn't believe she was actually here, actually going through with this. The fluttering in her stomach grew stronger. Up ahead, she could see wide open doors, and a sign in front that read "Panel Room One". She slowly made her way down the hall, and as she approached she could hear dozens of overlapping voices. Getting closer, she could see what had to be close to a hundred people all gathered around, talking and socializing with one another. 

She took her first step in, a little overwhelmed by the crowd. She found a spot off to the side, up against the wall. She scrolled absentmindedly on her phone for a bit, before she was startled by a voice coming from in front of her.

"Hey. I'm Lucy."

The woman who had approached Mackenzie looked to be about the same age as her, with long black hair pulled back into a messy bun. Behind her was a young man. He was kind of cute, she thought, with ruffled brown hair and a well-trimmed goatee framing his lips.

"This is my friend, Damien," the girl named Lucy continued.

"Hey. I'm Mackenzie."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Damien spoke up.

"Never thought this many people would be into drones."

Mackenzie looked around at the packed room.

"Yeah, neither did I. It's kinda cool, honestly."

"Definitely," Damien nodded. "We were afraid we'd be the only people here."

"So have you done something like this before," Lucy asked her.

"Yeah, a couple of times," Mackenzie replied. "You?"

"I have. It's Damien's first try though."

Mackenzie smirked at him and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Popping your drone cherry, huh?"

He chuckled.

"You could say that, yeah."

The three of them spent a while getting to know each other. They had more in common than Mackenzie expected, actually. Similar tastes in music, TV shows, even games. Her and Damien spent nearly ten minutes rambling to one another about Fallout: New Vegas, until the sound of a microphone interrupted them.

"Hello, volunteers!"

A man stood on a small stage at the back of the room, a microphone in his hand.

"When did he get here," Mackenzie whispered.

"Beats me," said Lucy. "I didn't notice him come in."

Another staffer wheeled a projector into the stage. The man looked out at the crowd, giving them a warm smile.

"If you're here, that means you volunteered to be a drone during our convention. First, let me extend a huge thank you to all of you. You all help make this convention possible."

As the man spoke, he introduced himself to as Johnathan, the one in charge of the volunteer process. He explained it to them in detail, and as he spoke, a group of staffers began to walk through the room, handing forms to everyone. She glanced over it. It was typical legal stuff, confirming that everyone agreed to undergo the conditioning and are willing to work the convention. Mackenzie signed her form, as did her two friends next to her.

Once everyone had signed, Johnathan walked over to the projector. He motioned for a staffer to cut the lights. Quickly the room wash shrouded in darkness. Johnathan turned on the projector, a bright white light emanating from it, illuminating Johnathan on the stage.

"If no one has any objections," he said, "we'll begin."

No one else spoke. Johnathan nodded, and pressed a button on the projector. The bright white was replaced with a jet black background. A swirling spiral began to fade into view in the center, a cascade of colors twisting in on themselves. Red, blue, purple. Mackenzie have a quick glance at the people around her. She could spot the more experienced subjects, their eyes already focused on the spiral. Among them was Lucy, who had already begun to stare. Mackenzie turned her attention back to the spiral, and found herself drawn into it quickly, her eyes trying to spot all of the colors.

Johnathan cleared his throat, and began speaking.

"Now, everyone just focus right here on the spiral."

His voice was calm and soothing, yet carried an air of authority. It made it easy to go along with him. To Mackenzie's surprise, she found the pressure of the group compelling her on as well. This was her first experience with multiple subjects, and she found the unspoken peer pressure only further drove her along.

"Let your gaze just focus on the spiral. You can stare into it so easily, watching as the colors twist and move."

Mackenzie did just that, her eyes locking to the center. She watched as the lines of the spiral flowed in, disappeared, and were replaced by an infinite stream of colors. It was captivating.

"So easy to let the spiral pull away your cares, your worries, your thoughts. Let your mind just fade away, as everything empties out into the spiral."

Her thoughts slowed as he guided the group along. Eventually, she didn't notice exactly when, they stopped entirely, her mind falling into that familiar, blissful blankness.

"So easy to let my voice be the only thing you hear, or even notice."

Some distant part of her mind registered as his voice seemed to become clearer, louder even. Her eyes still stared into the spiral, her ears filtering out everything save for Jonathan's voice.

"Now I want you to realize a simple truth," Johnathan said, his voice ringing in her ears. "That right now, you are blank and mindless. But not just you, singular. You, plural. Every single one of you is in that same state of emptiness. After all, you're all watching the same spiral, all listening to my words."

The part of her brain that was listening, a part Mackenzie wasn't really aware of, understood that. If she was mindless, it only made sense that everyone else was too. And if they were mindless, then she must be as well.

He spoke again.

"When I tell you to, I want all of you to repeat the words "We are blank and mindless". Not I, we. And as you say that word, we, and hear the chorus of voices echoing yours, you can let your sense of self just drift off into the crowd. Just one among many, all blank, all mindless, all doing just as your told.

He gave the order, and Mackenzie found her mouth moving in unison with all the others.

"We are blank and mindless."

Johnathan smiled, though it went unnoticed by Mackenzie and the crowd.

"Good," he said. "And let yourselves continue to repeat that, feeling everything I've told you taking root deep in your minds as you do so."

And they did. A chorus of dozens of voices repeated the same mantra, each mouth moving in unison with the others, their voices dazed.

"We are blank and mindless."

"We are blank and mindless."

"We are blank and mindless."

They continued in that fashion, the words looping over and over, each voice blending into a larger whole. Johnathan would occasionally speak, adding to their reinforcement.

"You're all doing so good, doing just as you're told. Obeying. Like the obedient drones you're meant to be."

But even as he spoke, he never stopped their chanting. His words sunk deep into their minds, reminding them that since they were already this far, they were already obedient. Reminding them that they are obedient, that they must be obedient. That they will be. It wasn't a choice anymore.

By this point, Mackenzie was gone. The words sunk into her mind without registering, the mantra flowing from her lips without notice. She didn't know what she was doing, and she didn't need to. She was mindless. She was blank. She obeyed.

Neither Mackenzie nor any of the others noticed how much time had passed. Only Johnathan knew that they repeated their mantras nearly an hour before he finally told them stop. At his command, a hundred voices went silent. A hundred people stood there, motionless. A hundred sets of glassy eyes stared vacantly ahead.

"A drone is mindless," Johnathan said, smiling. "But it is more than that. A drone is...nothing, really. It's just a tool. An object. A thing made to serve a purpose, and nothing more."

He waited a beat. No one made a sound.

"And what are all of you?"

A hundred voices spoken in unison.

"Drones."

"Very good."

He continued, each word directing them to let their entire selves slip away. Even through the fog of emptiness filling her mind, Mackenzie could feel things changing. At his word, she could feel her memories disappearing from her mind. She had no name anymore, no age. She didn't remember volunteering. She didn't remember arriving. She didn't remember anything.

The next to fade were her wants and desires. Gone was the enthusiasm that had driven her to sign up, her eagerness to see what would happen. Her feelings followed after that. There was no joy, so worry, no sadness. There was nothing anymore. There was just being.

And at last, her personality faded from her mind. Her shirt had album art from her favorite band on it. It meant nothing to her anymore. The attraction she had felt towards Damien was gone.  Every discernable facet of Mackenzie, the person, dissolved away into nothingness.

If she were lucid enough to describe it, if she still had feelings to experience or thoughts to put into words, she might have found the feeling strange. She had been blank in trance before. She had been a drone before. But this was different. She simply didn't exist anymore. Her eyes took in information, but she saw nothing. Sounds that entered her ears went unheard. Even physical sensations meant nothing. The weight of her jacket, the cool air on her exposed abdomen, were all unnoticed. It was like they just weren't there.

A true silence occupied her mind, a blankness like she had never believed possible. The mindlessness she had experienced in the past was more akin to her ignoring thoughts. They might appear, on occasion, but would simply drift by unnoticed, or be buried by trance. But here she was on another level. Not even the faintest trace of thought occurred in her mind. Hours had already gone by, and her mind had remained devoid of activity. Every experience, every movement, every second of time in trance was forgotten even as it occurred, never leaving an imprint in her mind. Actions happened automatically, without her even being aware of them.

Even her conditioning, at this point, went unnoticed. New commands were given and simply became a part of reality. They were something that just happened. When she obeyed, there was no compulsion; it simply happened, because that was what was supposed to happen. When she spoke, the words materialized seemingly from nowhere, pulled from some deep part of her mind that she had no awareness of. She never knew she was speaking, never knew she was moving. She never knew anything. She was no longer a part of the experience, the world around her and even her own body went in without her.

After a bit more conditioning, a break was had for lunch. But the drones were not awakened. Staffers appeared at the doors, and commanded them to follow. And so the drones did, as they were led towards the cafeteria where lunch was provided. As the staffers talked and laughed and socialized, the drones sat still in their seats. They didn't move save for the motions of eating. They didn't speak. They didn't feel their hunger or its satisfaction. They didn't taste their food. They simply did as they were commanded and ate. When a drone finished its meal, its arms simply dropped to its sides, and it sat there, staring forward blankly, waiting for the next instruction.

After lunch was had, the drones were led back into the panel room for a further round of conditioning. This time, the focus was on obedience. That a drone's core purpose, beyond any role it was given, was to obey. It was drilled into each empty mind that any command from a staffer was to obeyed instantly and without question. A staffer took to the stage, commanding them all to raise their arms. They did, immediately and in perfect unison. A different staffer, a different command, and again, they obeyed immediately. The process was repeated over and over, dozens of staffers, dozens of commands, all obeyed without flaw.

Next came their posture. The staff took special care here. They went for a specific look with their drones, to appeal to the interests of their guests. As they spoke, Mackenzie's body shifted to match. Her back and shoulders straightened. Her body stiffened, her arms pointed straight down towards the ground. Her feet pressed themselves together, until she stood at perfect, rigid attention. It was an unusual position for her, but with her mind so thoroughly obliterated by this point, it simply happened, without the discomfort she might have felt normally.

"Drones are tools," Johnathan said. "Objects. And like any object, they don't move of their own volition. They just wait there, until a person needs them."

The drones were tested, as Johnathan and the other staffers left the room. Every fifteen minutes someone would come to check on them. Not a single one of them had moved a muscle. For another hour, Mackenzie stood motionless alongside a hundred other drones. She never moved a muscle, and never made a sound. She didn't grow bored or restless. She just stood there, unaware of her surroundings, of what she was doing or how long she did it for. Her mind wasn't capable of wondering these things, or of feeling bored or restless, or of any idle process at all. Without a command to follow, she simply stood there, devoid of thought or awareness or self.

By the end of this process, Mackenzie and every other drone appeared functionally the same. They all stood with the same rigid, upright stance, their eyes wide and glazed over. Every mind in the room was as blank as a human could get, the drive to obey the only thing left. But Mackenzie might have noticed, if she was still conscious, that they hadn't actually been programmed yet. Nearly five hours had passed, and nothing related to their specific roles had even been touched on. She might have understood now why the volunteers had to come a day early. But her mind was completely silent, and no such musings ever occurred to her.

The time for that programming eventually came, however, with each drone being handed a slip of paper with a role on it. The drone that looked like Mackenzie saw the words "Assistant Drone" written on the paper it was handed, though right now its empty mind had no idea what that meant. Each slip also had a room written on it; Panel Room Three was written on MacKenzie's.

Johnathan returned to the stage, and with his command, the drones lined up single file and began to exit the room. As they walked, the line split into pieces, each smaller line of drones walking to their assigned room. Mackenzie followed a straight line of drones to room three. Her new friend, Lucy, walked behind her, sightless eyes fixed on the back of Mackenzie's head. Both girls had been assigned as Assistant Drones. Their friend, Damien, walked in a different line towards the cafeteria. He'd been chosen for food service. Mackenzie had previously hoped they'd all be working together, but by this point, she felt nothing at all about his absence. She didn't even notice it.

Mackenzie's group filed into room three, and took their positions, Mackenzie stopping directly beside the drone in front of her, Lucy standing still to her right. The drones lined up in perfectly spaced rows, waiting silently for the next command. A staff member followed the last drone in, shutting the door behind her. The woman stood at the head of the room, looking out at the blank faces staring back at her, and spoke.

"Drones, enter programming mode."

With the woman's voice, every drone in the room snapped to attention. Their already empty minds locked onto her voice, as though it were the only thing that existed. Something shifted deep within Mackenzie's mind, as it prepared to absorb every word the woman spoke. In programming mode, the words of a staff member were more than a command to be obeyed. They became an incontestable truth, etched into the core of a drone's mind, as fundamental as breathing.

The woman began walking through their ranks, giving each drone a number. The woman stopped before Mackenzie, who gave no indication that she had noticed.

"Drone, your classification is Assistant Drone, designation Unit 844."

Mackenzie's brain began to rewire itself. It was Unit 844. It was an Assistant Drone. This was simple fact.

"State your role, drone," the woman commanded.

"This unit is an Assistant Drone," was the immediate reply.

"And your designation?"

"Unit 844."

The woman nodded, though 844 paid no attention to this. She then walked on to Lucy, and repeated the process with her. She continued on from drone to drone, until she had gotten to all of them. Then she returned to the front to begin their programming.

As the woman spoke, 844 felt information began being written into its hollow mind and instantly locked away, every detail perfectly preserved to be recalled when needed. The full schedule for the convention was etched into its mind. The center's layout perfectly imprinted into it, as if it had downloaded a map directly into its brain. The correct greetings, the correct ways to end an interaction, everything it could possibly need to know or say was drilled into its mind. It never deviated; the staffer greeted it a hundred times, and a hundred times it gave the same response.

"Greetings. How many this drone assist you?"

It was thanked a hundred times, and every time it replied the same way.

"This unit is pleased to have assisted you. Enjoy your time at Dronecon."

There was no deviation in ite behavior. There couldn't be. It was a drone, and a drone did exactly as programmed. No more and no less.

By the end of it all, it and every other Assistance Drone were identical in every way that mattered. They moved in the same way, spoke in the same voice, gave the same answers to questions. They were what good drones should be; obedient, precise, identical.

When it was all over with, the staffer left them alone again to attend to some paperwork. And again, the drones didn't move a muscle, didn't utter a sound. 844 stood there, back and limbs straight as a board, its mind silent. It stood in the same way as every other drone in the room. Its face held the same lifeless expression; mouth slack, eyes wide and glassy, not a spark of thought or awareness behind them. The void inside its mind was all that remained, a blankness that wiped every sensation and experience even as it happened, that erased even the concept of thought or independence from it.

Eventually the staffer returned, with a final command.

"You are to arrive at the convention an hour before opening. You'll be given your uniforms and your precise assignments then."

"Affirmative."

A single word, spoken in flat monotone by over a dozen drones.

When it was all finally done, the staffer began the awakening process. Slowly, very slowly, Mackenzie felt life return to her mind. Thoughts began to form, sluggish and fragmented. Her awareness of herself and her surroundings began to creep back. Her head felt heavy and foggy. She glanced out the windows of the room, and saw it was pitch black outside.

Wait, it wasn't...wasn't dark earlier...was it?

Her thoughts were muddled, but began to clear as the seconds passed. She looked at her phone, revealing what she had already suspected. It was nearly midnight. An entire day had passed, and she hadn't noticed. In fact, she had no memory of anything after Johnathan had taken to the stage. She glanced over at Lucy, standing beside her. Her new friend was shaking her head. Her eyes were still glassy as she awakened.

"Lucy? How are you feeling?"

Her friend groaned a bit.

"Unit 845 is...wait...huh. I mean, I'm alright. Just kind of groggy, that's all."

"Yeah, me too. That was intense. Do you remember anything?"

"No, you?"

"Nothing," replied Mackenzie. "Everything after the projector is just gone."

She could feel a glimmer of her excitement returning to her. It had really happened. She hasn't been sure it could, but it had. Lucy looked up at her.

"I guess we'll see how it worked tomorrow, huh?"

Mackenzie slowly shook her head.

"I think if it worked, we won't remember anything tomorrow."

The staffer opened the doors, and everyone began to stagger out. The two girls could see Damien walking slowly down the stairs, clearly still trying to get his bearings. The group reunited in the main hall before walking over to the hotel together for dinner.

The next morning, the three of them arrived an hour early, just as they'd been told. They found the building full of the same faces they vaguely recognized from yesterday, all waiting around for their shifts to start. The three of them found a spot in the crowd, chatting amongst themselves about shared gaming interests. They didn't notice Johnathan walk out, a microphone in his hand. So they were caught off guard by the two simple words he said.

"Drone activate."

"So anyways, it was my first ever Crota's run, and-"

Mackenzie's mouth froze at Jonathan's words, her thoughts dissolving mid-sentence. In front of her, Lucy and Damien went rigid, their eyes widening and glazing over. She did the same, as all trace of life left the room, the once loud crowd going silent in an instant. One hundred people turned in unison to face Johnathan, staring straight ahead of themselves, awaiting their orders. The drones were ready for their shift.