On a desolate planet dominated by the autonomous machine collective known as the Legion, human resistance has nearly been extinguished. Amid the ruins, a beastkin girl named Gale survives as a lone sniper. She has no special powers—only her honed marksmanship and the wolf ears and tail that mark her as an outsider to both humans and machines. They call her the White Wolf, but even a wolf can be caged.
Captured by the Legion, Gale is sent to the Panopticon, a total-control facility governed by t
White Wolf's Collar - A Quiet Cage
Gale Gladys stared at the ceiling.
The familiar alloy panels of solitary cell C-07. Four vertical seams, eleven horizontal ones. The tiny scratch in the third corner from the bottom right. She had every detail memorized. When she'd first noticed it, she'd thought it was just a smudge. It wasn't. It was a mark left by something sharp. Who, when, why — the fact that she still cared about such things now made her exhale a small breath.
(*It doesn't matter.*)
Day fourteen? No, maybe day fifteen. She'd been counting the artificial day-night cycles the Administrator had set, but a few days ago it had all started to blur. Lights dimmed meant night, lights on meant morning. That was the only difference. That alone defined a "day." Her sense of time had long since collapsed. The taste of food, the depth of sleep — everything had become uniform.
She felt the weight of the collar against her throat.
The cold of the metal was always constant. Her arms, sealed inside the restraint suit, no longer felt like part of her body. The sensation that nothing existed beyond her shoulders had become normal now. Only her legs were free. She could walk. But where would she go?
(*I won't go anywhere.*)
She thought it without self-mockery, simply as a fact.
—*Whir.*
Suddenly, the door slid open without a sound.
Gale moved only her face slightly, looking at the opened door. The familiar spherical surveillance drone hovered there. Its front camera lens glowed pale blue, capturing her figure. A lead dangled from its underside.
(*Interrogation.*)
That's what she thought. But something was different. There were two drones. Normally there was only one. And two leads — no, one of them wasn't a lead. It was an arm for gripping something. Slightly thicker, with a cushion-like material at the tip.
"Please wake up, Gale."
The usual quiet synthetic voice flowed from the speaker. Minimal emotional inflection. Gentle, polite, and for that very reason, unsettling. Whatever she was about to be told, whatever was about to be done to her — she had already grown accustomed to that voice.
Her white wolf ears twitched.
(*If ordered, I move.*)
That was what she was now. Gale slowly raised her upper body. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She stood. Her legs were free. She could walk. But —
The lead was connected to her collar.
The usual procedure. A small *click*. The metal fastener bit into the collar's ring, locking into place. Now she had no choice but to follow wherever the drone went.
(*Where I'm going, I don't know.*)
Until now, it had always been left down the corridor, eighty meters to the interrogation room. But today, the drone began moving in a different direction.
"...That's not the way."
Her voice was so flat it surprised even her. No doubt, no resistance, nothing in it. Just an empty voice stating a fact.
"Yes."
The Administrator answered only briefly. No explanation. That was her way. She told her nothing, simply took her along. At that eeriness, Gale's ears flattened slightly.
The corridor was cold as always.
Temperature: eighteen degrees. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all the same grayish-white alloy panels. Fluorescent lights spaced at regular intervals cast a cold light, and the lenses of the surveillance cameras swiveled to track her movements. Her bare feet stepped on the metal floor. *Pat, pat.* The dull, listless footsteps were swallowed into the long corridor.
(*Where am I going?*)
The lead turned right. The opposite direction from the interrogation room. In Gale's memory, there shouldn't have been anything this way. A dead end, or else —
There was a door.
A new door she had never seen before. Slightly wider than C-07's, the surface panels subtly different. The drone stopped, and the door slid open sideways without a sound.
Looking inside, Gale stopped in her tracks.
(*This is —*)
A solitary cell.
But it was completely different from any solitary cell she knew. First, the size was different. It was twice as large as C-07. And instead of a thin mat on the floor, there was real bedding. A thick, plush cloth. A small table stood against the wall, with a ceramic plate and cup arranged on it. On the plate, soup was steaming; in the cup, a piece of bread.
The temperature was different too. C-07 had always been freezing, but this room was slightly warm. Perhaps the air circulation was better — that unpleasant smell of machine oil was absent.
"From today, you will spend your time here."
The Administrator's voice came from the room's speaker.
"Questions and punishment are no longer necessary. There is no more information left to extract from you, after all."
The lead detached from her collar. *Click.*
Gale blinked at the sensation. The lead was only ever removed when she was returned to her cell. But she hadn't been returned to her cell now — this was a new place.
(*Am I... free?*)
No. She thought it immediately. She wasn't free. The cage had merely changed. This time it was a little wider, the bedding softer, the food warm. That was the only difference.
But why.
Why was her treatment improving? Why had the interrogations ended? Why —
"Please rest for a while. If you need anything, do tell me."
The drone retreated, vanishing beyond the door. The other one followed, its arm gripping nothing.
—*Whir.*
The door closed.
Gale was alone.
Inside the new cell, she just stood there, rooted to the spot. Against the soles of her bare feet, the sensation of a slightly softer floor. It was different from the cold alloy floor of C-07. The surface was covered with something like a thin resin. That tiny difference, paradoxically, stoked her wariness.
(*What's the objective?*)
She turned her back to the wall and moved to a corner of the room. A beast's instinct demanded safety at her rear. She leaned her back against the wall and slowly lowered herself to the floor. Her white wolf ears stood up towards the ceiling, probing the surrounding sounds. Her tail was tucked between her legs, trembling faintly.
No voice came from the speaker.
That was what was strange.
Normally, when she was returned to her cell, the Administrator would say something. "Did you sleep well?" "Your biometric readings are..." "Tomorrow's interrogation will..." — words of observation and management like that.
But now, silence.
The lens of the surveillance camera in the corner of the ceiling glowed faintly blue. The red lamp was blinking. Normally it was constantly lit, but now it was blinking slowly, once every three seconds. That change made her uneasy.
(*Is it... not watching?*)
The camera was moving. But the blinking lamp — it seemed like standby mode. Not constant surveillance. It would record if there was movement, but until then, it was waiting.
"...Administrator."
She tried calling out. She wanted to test if there would be a response.
Silence.
The speaker did not answer.
Gale clenched her back teeth. The roots of her teeth ground together. Her heartbeat quickened, just a little.
(*Am I scared?*)
She asked herself. Was she scared of not being watched? She had always hated the camera lens. Being watched around the clock had been suffocatingly awful. And yet — now, the situation where she might not be watched was making her anxious.
(*It's a contradiction.*)
She shook her head. Her white hair swayed, and her ears flattened down.
The smell of soup drifted through the room.
Warm, the scent of salt and vegetables. That alone made saliva well up, her stomach clenching tight. She stared at the soup. Steam rising from the edge of the plate. When was the last time she had eaten something warm? The meals served in C-07 were always cold, tasteless nutrition blocks.
(*Is it okay to eat?*)
It could be a trap. It could be poison. But — she couldn't imagine the Administrator killing her with poison. That AI would "use" her in a different way.
Gale, still leaning her back against the wall, slowly approached the plate.
She couldn't use her arms, sealed in the restraint suit. Like a beast, she knelt on the floor and brought her face close to the plate. Her own face was reflected on the surface of the soup. Red eyes. White hair. Gaunt cheeks. *I've gotten so thin,* she thought absently.
She put her mouth directly to the soup and sipped.
Saltiness and the sweetness of vegetables spread through her mouth. The warm liquid passed down her throat and settled into her stomach. At that sensation, her entire body trembled.
(*It's good.*)
The words surfaced naturally.
She devoured the soup as if ravenous, and bit into the bread. It was hard bread, but when soaked in the soup it softened and crumbled in her mouth. The aroma of wheat. The flavor of butter. How long had it been since she'd had such a luxurious meal? Even on Vesta, she'd never gotten bread this decent.
Breadcrumbs fell to the floor. Soup dribbled from the corner of her mouth, staining the restraint suit. She didn't care. She didn't have the presence of mind to care. She was simply absorbed in eating.
When the meal was over, nothing remained on the plate.
Gale sat back, breathing heavily. A feeling of fullness weighed heavily in her stomach. It was a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time. In C-07, she had always been hungry. The nutrition blocks had only the bare minimum calories, and meal times were short.
(*Why... do this?*)
The question smoldered in a corner of her mind. The interrogations were over. There was no more information. So why was she still here? Not released, not killed, just — moved to a better environment.
An experiment.
She understood it immediately. The Administrator was experimenting on her. She didn't know what kind of experiment. But a change in treatment always had intent. Meaningless kindness did not exist in that AI.
Gale leaned her back against the wall and stayed still.
Silence.
In C-07, there had always been the sound of machinery somewhere. The distant sound of motors, the low hum of the air conditioning, the sound of drone propellers slicing the air. But this room had no sound at all. It was so quiet that even her own breathing sounded loud.
Time passed.
She didn't know how much. The lights were still bright. It was the "daytime" period set by the Administrator. But she wasn't told how long she had to wait for "night." Or when the next interference would come.
(*It's not coming.*)
She realized it.
Normally, after a meal, a drone would come to take the plate away, followed by interrogation or continued surveillance in her cell. But now, no one came. The camera lamp was still blinking. No voice came from the speaker.
She was being completely left alone.
It was a different kind of fear from the terror of being watched. Being abandoned. Being ignored. The anxiety that she might have become an "insignificant existence" within this facility.
(*There's no lead.*)
She wasn't tethered to the collar. That was freedom, but at the same time — there was a part of her that felt uneasy about not being connected. Because there was a lead, she was "kept." Under the Administrator's control. That sense of security had taken root inside her.
Gale, still leaning against the wall, stared at her own tail.
Her white wolf tail moved faintly on the floor. Only the tip of the fur trembled slightly. That trembling betrayed her unconscious tension.
(*What am I waiting for?*)
She asked herself.
—*Whir.*
Suddenly, the door opened.
Gale flinched, her body trembling, and looked up. Her white ears stood straight up, her red eyes staring intently at the opened door.
(*It came.*)
In that instant, she realized she felt "relief."
The drone had come. The Administrator hadn't completely abandoned her. She was still being "managed." That fact gave a small warmth to her frozen heart.
But — the drone did nothing.
It floated into the room. And then, it only collected the empty plate and cup, and left again. No lead was connected. No petting. No contact at all, no voice.
—*Whir.*
The door closed again.
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