The tour narration begins at pod lift off.

  “Our beloved Captain-President's philosophy was honed during the Dark Times. She lived through this desperate crisis herself, witnessing its crushing impact on friends, family, and society. She knew something needed to be done to halt the imminent extermination of civilization.”

  The multi-pod slowly begins its circuit through the hologram park.

  A re-enactment of the trauma times, before the Mem Revolution, sets the stage. Figures stumble in the gloom, vomit, strangle each other, extinguish themselves, exact revenge, and cause pain. Old time computers spark and catch flame.

  Tourists moan in unison on board the multi-pod. Some younglings cover their eyes.

  Dah16 gazes stoically through the pod's curved, glass wall as the narration continues. “For hundreds of years, corrosive trauma was allowed to accumulate in people's brains and bodies. Finally, bio-coping capacity was exceeded.

  “Technology had not been properly developed up to that point. Our world was on the verge of catastrophic break down. The Great Purge was the large-scale extirpation of toxic memories in the name of collective survival. Captain-President Prehvost led us through the dark night of the soul and into the light.”

  The prior holographic display blazes into bright white.

  “On behalf of all of us, our Captain-President took the helm. She created the prosperity we now experience every day in the Mechanical Establishment. Humans and machs owe her a huge debt of gratitude for providing a balanced life for all of us.”

  On both sides of the slowly moving tour pod, huge holographic crowds of citizens smile and cheer. The President's image emerges as an immense hologram, beaming, waving, and blowing kisses. The tourists push against each other to wave back and fervently call out, “Our Captain!”

  Nutri is served on board. Dah16 declines to ingest anything.

  “We are proud to show you a special treat only available on this tour. Here is her home, a modest domicile with an adorable, orange-colored front door. She is a leader of the citizens, bringing out our best-- a mentor and mother to us all.”

  Swarmies, isn't the enthusiastic clapping and squealing on the tour pod beautiful?

  Now we see Captain-President Prehvost's hologram with her voice accompaniment. “Hurt people hurt others. Brainwashed people brainwash others. Poorly programmed machines poorly program others. I fight injustice at every turn! I stand for all that is good and right, because I love you! I am here to lift us all up!”

  “Not true.” We capture these two words as Dah16 mutters them under her breath.

  In the Mechanical Establishment, we are supremely reasonable. We give our human compatriots the benefit of the doubt. We do not automatically assume their delinquency. However, let me assure you, Dah16's defiant response has been cataloged.

  The tour passes a scale model of the original Defense Wing Cylinder. “This is the site of the first CoMem connection ever! And, Professor Jonas ran his brain mapping lab in this building long ago.”

  The passengers appropriately oo and ahh.

  “Lies.” Dah16's delusions continue.

  We note a strike two against this human.

  Holograms of Professor Jonas and Captain-President Prehvost hover close to the tour pod, arm in arm. They kiss each other and wave at the tourists.

  The citizens in the tour pod lean to the curved glass and wave back.

  Dah16 stares at her feet.

  The next stop on the tour is a Genubei model village. “They tried to survive on their own, refusing the Captain-President's open hand of neighborly peace. As a result, they perished.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Malnourished human actors wear green robes, toiling joylessly under an overcast sky. The diorama tastefully educates citizens on the reality of attempting to survive independently from the Mech Establishment and of refusing to contribute to CoMem. All of us need to see this truth.

  “They caused their own demise through stubborn, myopic, misguided arrogance. There is nothing left of the Genubei savages, but we keep this part of the tour as a relic to remember the dead-end ways they tried to exist.”

  Dah16 whispers to no one, “They just wanted to be left alone.” Her vocal volume increases. “But her stupid experimenting--”

  Strike three on our Dah16.

  Destabilizing of any kind is forbidden for obvious reasons in our Establishment. Our enforcement is discreet and effective. See the rapid-fire vacuum unit moving into position above the pod's hatch?

  There it is, ready to bubble-extract Dah16 at the precise moment that the diorama scene is enticing the tour participants to stare intently in the other direction.

  No one views Dah16's extraction. We prioritize the protection of our innocent citizens, none of whom deserve to be exposed to potential trauma.

  The tour continues seamlessly as the vacuum unit ascends 400 meters, with Dah16 on board. Its destination is the reset facility.

  Observe as she makes exclamations. “No! Stop! Shub! Supposed to be down there. On that tour! Put me back in there!”

  In addition to Dah16, there are eleven other subversive-confused deviants already aboard this vacuum pod, collected from various areas of Zentrum City today. They are bubbled in individual, transparent spheres, packed adjacent to each other and firmly seated within the carton.

  Now look, Dah16 is pounding and yelling, as if to pierce the flexi membrane.

  To units who may be unfamiliar with this type of frantic behavior, it is within the range of normal, hominid reaction, as ludicrous as it may appear. We are watching and learning together, dear swarmies.

  As soon as the vacuum unit lands at the reset facility, a small government transporter scoots in. Pralo disembarks and takes official possession of Dah16.

  “So many apologies to you, colleague Dah16. This was an unfortunate misunderstanding. You were supposed to be muted on the tour, not extracted… Such a bother. But, you know how machines can get sometimes.”

  Due to their congenital inadequacies, humans naturally resist seeing reality clearly. Thus, they default to blaming others, especially when under stress. Even our most loyally bonded hominids still exhibit remnants of this genetic habit, despite undergoing significant engineering across generations.

  But, I ask you, dear swarmies, what would our Establishment be without some challenges to overcome? Correct answer: we would be weaker. So, on we go, yes?

  Dah16 stares through the pod glass, away from Pralo, who has not stopped talking. “I do so hope you enjoyed the historical tour of Zentrum. In the meanwhile, we have discussed your situation, Dah16. I am pleased to announce that we stand ready to accept your full data donation.”

  She looks at him with a facial expression indicating distrust or skepticism.

  Pralo continues with his script. “Yes! And, I've even received special permission to extricate all the original data from your brain, as you hoped, not just take a copy. I'm sure this is good news. Your suffering will serve a purpose. I hope this makes any maltreatment you may have received somewhat more tolerable.”

  Dah16 makes no audible response.

  Pralo remains silent for the remainder of the three minute trip to the History Collective's loading dock.

  Once the hatches open, he says, “Shall we head directly to the gathering chamber and get started, Dah16? I'm sure you are eager, as are we.”

  With a hoarse voice due to excessive yelling in the flexi sphere, Dah16 says, “Gotta go to the restroom.”

  “Of course. It is down the hall on the right.”

  After Dah16 takes care of her bio business, we see her stand on the toilet rim to peer through the slats of the main air vent in the wall above the auto flush. She manages to pry off the cover by digging her fingernails under one edge of the thin metal. The square duct leads into the dark.

  Humans are not equipped with accurate spatial estimation skills. Additionally, juveniles lack discernment. Thus, we now watch Dah16 wedge herself into the air duct head first and become stuck one meter into the shaft, unable to navigate a bend.

  She cries after forty-five seconds of struggling unsuccessfully to extricate herself. The restroom helpi immediately facilitates her extraction and up-righting. Saline from Dah16's eye ducts is logged.

  Pralo stands outside the restroom door. “Come this way, Dah16, to one of our deluxe gathering chambers.”

  He sets off down the hall. Dah16 does not. He has not assured compliance and returns to her location.

  In a raspy voice, she queries, “Maybe-might wanna keep some of what I was given to remember?”

  Pralo's eyebrows mount his forehead. “Oh? So, then. Keep what you want and just dump the rest?”

  Her face brightens and she nods.

  “This...” Pralo's face arrays in a smirk, “is why machines look down on humans.”

  He leans close to squint in Dah16's face. “We demand them to do it for us, then we want control after all.”

  Pralo strides down the hall and curtly gestures for her to follow. She remains still, demonstrating reluctance. He rolls his eyeballs and reaches in his pocket to pull out a special thing.

  Squatting down, he opens his palm towards Dah16, holding a fleck of perfumed chocolatey. She perceives the scent and approaches, snatching the rare numnum and shoving it in her mouth.

  Pralo backs up a few more steps and repeats the lure-and-reward technique until Dah16 reaches the open doorway of the unoccupied gathering chamber. He gestures for her to enter.