The machine’s eye stared at him with dull judgement as one of the men in front of him was executed.
“Prisoner…578” called out the ‘guard’ in between sips of wine. He could see pale movement in The Machines dark, semi-circle eye.
They had arrested him when he spoke out on corruption and had kept him in a cramped cell for a half a year, now he was in the court of punishment to be executed.
It’s eye was still staring, it was like a pool of split ink that hadn’t covered all the paper. It made a pit in his stomach.
He’d told them that he wouldn’t speak out again, but they still marched him off to die.
As he shuffled forward he was all to aware that it was his time. It took all of his strength to look up and meet the machines eye, but when he looked up; he realized the pale movement was a reflection of himself.