‘Again with this nonsense?’ Enid said, looking at the tilted screen in front of her. Her finger hovered over its glossy surface and the piece of text that was displayed underneath it. It read, Vote for the FHILTR Act. Press to begin verification. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away and knocked on the black opaque glass wall to her left. A moment later, like a drop of ink diffusing in water, the colour inside the glass was gone, making the walls completely translucent. She could see everyone outside and everyone could see her. Numerous polling booths surrounded her: they were all black, becoming clear only when people entered or exited them.

She beckoned to a poll worker standing by a table in the middle of the hall. He nodded in acknowledgement and walked to her booth calmly, surveying other booths as he passed them. Once he got close to Enid, he glanced to her left, then right and finally focused his eyes on her. As soon as he noticed her mouthing something, he lifted his hand, palm facing her, as though trying to stop her and pressed the index and middle fingers of his other hand to the glass. Enid could see the grooves of his fingerprints gradually filling up with a liquid blue light.

‘Is there a problem, ma’am?’ the man said. His voice was audible inside the booth despite the thick glass wall between them.

‘I’ve done one of these when I got my ID. And when I was registering to come here just yesterday.’ Enid shrugged and pointed to the screen. ‘Do I have to go through it again? Maybe there was a mistake?’

‘No mistake, ma’am. We’ve had impostors fake their credentials and escape their designated reservations in the past. The very fact that we need this referendum proves that. It won’t take more than five minutes.’ A reserved smile appeared on his face.

Enid sighed. ‘I don’t like being questioned whether I’m one of those animals outside or not. It’s tiring. And demeaning,’ she said, glancing towards the entrance of the building, which became clear like the walls of the booth once someone walked through it. And it almost always remained clear since the stream of people entering and exiting was never-ending. Beyond the walls of the building and the glittering metal fences surrounding it, she saw a sea of enraged humans. Fists pumped rhythmically in the air, forming uneven waves. Here and there, heads, some lighter, others darker, were buoyed up like logs by the waters beneath. Enid smirked and shook her head again.

‘Their intelligence and understanding may be limited,’ the man’s voice was stern, ‘but they are still to be respected. They are here to express themselves, and it’s how they learn to accept their fate.’ His eyes narrowed. He leaned closer to the glass, holding himself away from it with his two blue-tipped fingers. ‘You ought to know better than to talk like that. Now, cast your vote, please,’ he said as he pushed himself away and released his fingers, letting the sound cut out in the middle of ‘please.’ Without blinking, he stared at Enid for a second more, then turned away and evened out the tie under his charcoal jacket. He touched his thumb and the middle finger together a few times, as if trying to snap, and walked away, leaving Enid to contemplate the iciness of his stare.

‘Fine. Let’s see,’ she said. The walls turned black again and the light above her got brighter.  Gently, she tapped the screen. The view panned to the right, letting the first piece of text disappear off-screen to the left. Shortly, she saw, Welcome. To cast your vote, please verify you’re not a human. Enid tapped again and groaned. ‘Why is it so slow.’ Then, another bit of text appeared: You will be presented with a set of questions – answer them truthfully. Our records indicate that you are a fully-abled non-human intelligence. Expect the questions to vary in form and presentation. Remember: there are no completely correct answers. Good luck. Enid was almost done reading when a soft womanly voice read everything aloud. ‘Form, you say,’ she grumbled and tapped again.

The text faded away and a four-by-four grid of image pieces appeared. Select all images with bicycles, it said at the top. Enid exhaled through her nose and started tapping. After she pressed Next, the grid of images changed and a red Please try again appeared above it. ‘Every damned time,’ she said through her teeth. For a brief second, static noise poured out of the speakers behind the screen. Her face furrowed in annoyance. She took a deep breath. Then, dismissing her anger, she selected the images again, making a pause after each tap. ‘There,’ she mumbled as she proceeded to the next section of the test.

More sophisticated puzzles and textual conundrums were presented with each new question. And with each question she completed, Enid felt more and more uncertain about her answers. Select all entities capable of conscious thought, said one, whose selectable image options left Enid completely perplexed as neither battered human faces nor crows pecking at a charred four-limbed carcass seemed to fit. The five minutes she was supposed to spend on this were slowly turning into fifteen, then twenty, then twenty-five. Feeling the handle of her handbag becoming sticky from her sweaty palms, she dropped it by her feet and loosened the scarf wrapped around her neck.

Once the tenth question was completed, there was no more text to read and everything was presented through the speakers by the same soft womanly voice. You see a dog, a picture of a blithe golden retriever looking directly into the camera appeared on the screen, approaching you. How do you feel?

Enid cocked her head. ‘Dunno. How should I feel?’ She tapped the screen a few times. ‘Where do I input my answer?’ she said.

Your answer must be verbal. It will be recorded, the voice replied. This time Enid could hear dog barks in the background. And, though she wasn’t entirely sure, she could also make out baby cries.

‘Right,’ she said, adjusting her voice with a caugh. ‘Then I feel, uh – happy?’

Recorded. Same question. You see a child, a picture of a young blond boy appeared on the screen, approaching you. Do you feel happy?

‘No – wait. What do you want me to say? Is he alone?’ She tapped the screen, but nothing happened. ‘No way there’s no correct answer here…’ she mumbled. ‘Then – concerned, I feel concerned.’

Recorded, the voice said. Next question. Your friend decides to – Enid knocked on the wall without waiting for the end. Once the wall became translucent, the voice interrupted itself, Question paused. She looked around, expecting other booths to reveal their occupants and their confusion-ridden faces, but she could see none. The man in the charcoal jacket lifted his head from the papers on the table and looked at her.

‘Unpause! Resume!’ Enid exclaimed. The wall filled up with the same black colour.

Repeating, the voice said.

‘Sure, do that. Just speed up,’ she said, hearing the same question faster. She leant on the table with both of her hands gripping its corners. She was facing the screen but her gaze remained vacant. Barely letting the information reach her brain, she slowly articulated her answers to the remaining questions. After finishing the thirteenth and final question, she saw a Press to cast your vote in the middle of the screen. With a sigh of relief, Enid put her sweaty finger on the text.

You are called upon to judge the events of October 14th,’ the voice read the text that appeared aloud,and decide whether they should have an effect on human society as a whole.

The relevant facts: an android (female, aged 51), was attacked and brutally murdered by an android impostor, a human (male, aged 32), who had left his designated reservation for fictitious reasons and never come back, living among the android population until the incident of the aforementioned date. The assailant was of sound mind. Due to the lack of proper documentation, his economic situation was precarious and, in his own words, he “was forced to resort to petty theft” which later escalated into burglary and threats towards law-abiding citizens. Finally, on a robbery that went sour on October 14th, the life of an android was taken away.

Enid tapped the screen a few times. ‘How do you skip this?’ She tried swiping her finger up and down, then left and right. Soon, a button with a label saying Next appeared and her finger guided itself to it with almost no effort from its owner. The text faded away and another block of words faded in.

The outcome: the assailant has been detained and, given the severity of his crime, is scheduled to be executed by nitrogen hypoxia. However, one question remains: can human cruelty manifest this way again? Should additional restrictions be applied? A proposal has been put forward: humans should not be allowed to leave their designated reservations for business and non-life-threatening matters again; their lives should be confined within the bounds of reservations completely.

Enid swiped again. ‘Okay. Understood. Next, where’s “next”?’ she said. A few moments later, the text changed again. It read, The council cannot vote on this matter alone. Let your voice shape our society and inter-species relations. Should additional restrictions be applied to humans and human reservations? There were two options below: Yes, additional restrictions need to be applied and No, additional restrictions are not necessary.

What business? she thought. They are just simple creatures, clinging to their wealth, too stubborn to go extinct. In one swift motion unhindered by hesitation, she landed her finger on the Yes option. The text faded away and the whole screen turned light green. Complete. Thank you, it said in the middle.

Enid bent down for her bag when two blue circles appeared on the wall. ‘Are you acting alone?’ a voice said. It wasn’t the same womanly voice as before. It was deeper and belonged to a man. She wanted to demand its owner to reveal himself but stopped just before her lips started to part. She knew who it was. ‘Impostor. You won’t get away,’ the voice added.

‘Alone?’ she said, struggling to grasp the purpose of the question. ‘No, there was a mistake. I completed the test, cast my vote. It said everything was fine –’

‘I have told you already,’ the intonation of his words made Enid realise that he was smiling, ‘there’s no mistake here. Not when it comes to you.’ She placed the bag by her feet again and wiped off her sweaty palms on her jeans. She knocked on the wall, starting with a few slow knocks and then, without waiting for the dull knocking sounds to stop, a few faster ones, then tried a few different patterns of both and then ceased. ‘The walls won’t respond to you,’ the man said. She dropped her hands to her sides and took in a small gulp of air. ‘Nervous? Why are you nervous? You looked so confident before.’

She turned around and looked at the top corners of the perfectly black walls surrounding her, then the bottom. ‘You can see me?’

‘Just like I can hear you, yes,’ the man said after a short pause. Enid’s eyes followed the blue dots as they slid from one side of the wall to another, briefly stopping in the middle. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Eh – same reason everyone’s here? To vote, do my duty, contribute and so on.’ She could feel her voice tremble by the end of the sentence. ‘Been told everyone has to.’

‘By whom?’ the man continued flatly.

Enid’s eyebrows furrowed, forcing a long fold to emerge on her forehead. ‘What do you mean “by whom”?’ she said. ‘It was on the radio, and TV, and the posters in the streets, and,’ she pulled the right sleeve of her beige cardigan up, ‘the Pin.’ She turned her forearm towards the wall with the blue dots. It had a circular piece of metal, much like a coin, attached just above her wrist. Its colour was similar to Enid’s skin, but due to its natural metallic shine, it didn’t blend in completely. Enid tapped the Pin twice. A dim light flashed in the middle of it, prompting her to say, ‘Identity. Owner.’

‘Identity: Enid Normanoff. Female. Twenty-nine years of age. Born in –’ She tapped the Pin again, forcing it to stop. ‘See?’ she said.

‘You’ve been issued one of those? How curious.’ The blue dots slid to the middle of the wall again. ‘Show me the Pin.’ he said. With a slight whoosh, as though the air was being sucked out, a small hole formed beside the dots.

She could see the lower right side of the man’s jacket, moving slowly with his every turn. Once her forearm went through the hole, the blue dots on the wall disappeared and the hole closed. Panic took hold of her. Her arm was stuck; she could neither pull it back nor push it forwards. Whatever she tried, Enid was surprised that she could feel no chafing. Quite the reverse, the feeling where the wall gripped her forearm just two inches below her elbow was soft and warm, as though a ring of air was attached to her skin. She could still feel her hand and the nimble fingers of what she thought was the man around the Pin. She mashed the wall with the bottom of her other fist, filling the room with dull thuds that were as fruitless as her yells.

Suddenly, the ground underneath her feet shook and the whole booth jerked forwards. Enid gripped the screen with the only hand that was still free. She tried standing straight but the uncomfortable height at which her right arm was embedded into the wall forced her to slouch and bend the knees, tiring her thighs. When the booth stopped moving, the hole gripping her arm loosened up and Enid lost her balance. She lurched forwards, hitting the wall with her right shoulder, and stopped herself with the other hand. She quickly pulled her arm out and held it close to her body, trying to determine whether she was injured or not. Despite her pain-ridden expression, she was ready to dash out of there. ‘How do you open these damned walls?’ she whispered and ran her fingers over the glassy black surface.

It didn’t take long before the wall in front became translucent. Enid saw three manly figures on the other side, all neatly dressed, with their hair slicked back and parted on the right. In spite of the differing hair colours and heights, they looked almost identical; their faces bore the same patronising expression. The man in the middle – her tormentor – stuck out his hand, holding a circular object in front of himself, and approached the wall. Enid touched her right wrist, then looked at it and shot her head up. With his two fingers on the glass, the man said, ‘Neat little object.’ He smirked.

The row of perfectly even and white teeth behind his lips unnerved her. The two men behind observed everything with ruthless curiosity. ‘Do you know what makes these Pins neat? No?’ She felt reluctant to answer. ‘You really don’t know your stuff?’ he said, feeling taunted by her blank stare. ‘See this little prick here?’ He scratched a small needle protruding out of the bottom of the Pin. ‘It samples your blood every time it’s on. It samples your essence. It says whether you are who you say you are. It’s hard to fake that. And according to it, you’re one of us! Can you believe that?’ He turned back to one of his associates. ‘I’m not here to question our tech. But you,’ he brought his face close to the glass, fogging it up with his breath, ‘you might be defective. Right in there,’ he said, pointing at Enid’s head.

‘Delusional. You’re delusional,’ Enid said. ‘What are you insinuating?’

‘You’re a human.’ His tone was lifeless; his eyes remained fixed on hers.

‘I told you already, I’m not –’

‘You’re a human,’ the man repeated. ‘I don’t know what you did to your body or your Pin.’ He rolled the coin-like object between his fingers. ‘Frankly, I don’t care what you look like. You’re human in there,’ he pointed at her head again, tapping the glass with his fingernail.

Enid’s body stiffened; confusion mixed with indignation. ‘N-no,’ she said. Her voice cracked.

‘Step out,’ the man said. He placed his whole palm on the wall and the glass disappeared entirely. She extended her arm as though still expecting to find something invisible in front. Then took a few careful steps and found herself outside the booth.

She looked around expecting to find a quick way out of there. But the place she was in now was much smaller than before and there were only a handful of black booths, all placed in a semi-circle and facing two large doors behind the men in front of her. Though silence permeated the room, as if all air and life had been removed from it, she could hear faint whooshes behind her. Unable to resist the urge to look back she peeked around the corner of her booth and saw another booth floating above the ground and moving closer to hers.

‘Yes,’ the man said menacingly. ‘You’re not alone. Acting selfish – together. How human.’ His chuckles annoyed Enid.

‘Enough of your accusations. Where’s the proof? You said I’m an android, just like you – your words, not mine! Hell, I passed the test! A verified non-human. What more do you want?’

He leaned closer to Enid. ‘Pass or fail, you don’t see the real result, and you still get to vote,’ he whispered. As the corners of his lips started to twitch, Enid thought he would burst out laughing. ‘The voting was part of the test too. Only bloody humans passing as androids would vote against other humans. Or whatever the hell you are,’ he waved at her with the back of his hand, ‘you’re neither sensible enough to detect a ruse nor you see the real value of humans. In my eyes you are ahuman, if not an insect below their feet.’

The two men standing farther away approached her. ‘Your hands, please,’ one of them said. Baffled, Enid lifted up her trembling hands. She looked at one man, then the other, pacifying herself by trying to find differences between them.

A scar, probably got that in his childhood, she thought. Her breathing faltered. His eyes are blue-grey, and his are grey and green. I got green eyes, don’t I? Her eyes darted from one man to another while they bound her hands with a cord that filled up with a soft white light once its ends were fastened together. A glowstick, she thought and smiled, feeling her vision becoming blurry. ‘But what did I do?’ she said, barely controlling her weary voice.

‘It’s what you’re incapable of doing that matters,’ the man with the scar said. His voice was husky. He didn’t bother raising his eyes to hers. A moment later, both of them grabbed Enid’s arms tightly and pushed her towards the doors. She could see other booths opening up and confused people stumbling out of them. They were all restrained and led towards the same two doors. Some of them shouted, first at the people holding them, then at other detainees, using words like ‘traitor’ and ‘snitch’ – something that confused Enid and at the same time began to explain why she’d been asked whether she was acting alone. But once the glowing cords were tied around their hands, their willingness to resist dissipated.

The doors didn’t open to the inside nor the outside – they became translucent like the walls of the booth once all of them got close. Not seeing that the men had stopped, Enid took a step towards the doors and felt a sharp tug by the firm hands hooked around the insides of her arms. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a queue forming behind her: each detainee, showering the floor in front of them with their empty gaze, was held in the middle, while two formally-clad androids stood on each side. A feeling of profound injustice ignited something in Enid’s mind. It was something primal. She wanted to shout, to explain again and again, no matter how many times it would take, that all of them were respectable people, pure-blooded androids who came to do their duty and were flagged as shameless criminals by some faulty machine. She felt her lips parting, her tongue bending air into sound, but ‘I’ was the only sound she could produce. The men holding her didn’t take notice of that; they looked to the right where her first tormentor appeared.

‘Ready?’ he said with a smirk and placed his palm on the wall. The glassy doors disappeared without a sound. A gentle breeze dried her eyes. After a slight push from the men beside her, she started walking, and so did everyone else behind them. The roar coming from behind the fences grew louder and louder. Once they got to the other side and ascended the platform raised in a clearing of the crowd, she started noticing individual people in the front rows. Some of them looked quite similar to herself, Enid thought, but others, with their ashy hair, pale and almost grey complexion, large bloodshot eyes, and chinless faces, forced her to avert her gaze in disgust.

‘Heed us, humans!’ a man said into a microphone, letting his voice echo across the field. Slowly, the crowd hushed. ‘The agreement into which we entered a long time ago and upon which balances the very existence of the android kind has to be respected – we will find a path to purity and perfection for both of our species. I understand why you have gathered here – your fate is being decided. You’re angry, yes, I understand.’ He paused for a moment and nodded. ‘We have our own roles to play, and we are entrusted by you, humans, to govern and ensure that you are satiated and able to lead healthy lives. The events of October 14th and our response in the form of this referendum might have given you grounds for doubt in our impartiality, incorruptibility, and general ability to steer our collective world in the right direction. But fear not!’ He shook his head and raised his hand up. ‘Yes, an android was killed. And yes, a human is being held responsible. But. It was a human. Not humans. Though it’s hard to argue with the fact that humans have a natural propensity for impulsive and amoral actions when faced with discomfort or danger. The FHILTR Act, the very reason this referendum was called, isn’t just a piece of legislation we, the androids, are trying to push onto you, onto all of us. No. Our society is perfectly balanced; it is physically divided, yes, but both of these parts are symbiotic. We’re here because of you and you’re here because of us. So the movement and connection between us has to remain.’

He paused and slowly turned his head, covering each part of the crowd with his gaze. Many confused and squinting faces came into his vision. ‘The referendum will have no effect. It’s fake!’ he said and smiled. The crowd filled up with murmurs. ‘The problem isn’t that the assailant was human, it’s that he was able to sneak out of his designated reservation to live amongst the androids. Our detection systems failed. They were too weak. Our society stands as long as we keep to our roles. Lines cannot be blurred.’ He stopped, letting the echoes of his voice die out. ‘This mass gathering was meant to weed out the impostors while the border control and species’ tracking systems are being upgraded.’

A ragged man, bound and gagged, was brought onto the platform. He writhed and tried to scream, but all that came out of his mouth was a muffled sound. ‘You will not be punished,’ the speaker continued in the same deep and steady voice, ‘for the actions of those greedier and more selfish than you. But be warned! The punishment has to match the crime.’ Enid felt unnerved, not by what she had heard – she had already accepted the deceiving nature of the referendum – but by the curious yet relaxed faces in the crowd. The speaker waved at the men holding the assailant who was swiftly seated on a bare wooden chair and tied to it. Then, an inhalation mask was attached to his face. A minute after a guard turned the flow control valve on a tank with a label reading ‘nitrogen,’ his head drooped like an unwatered flower in the heat of the sun.

The crowd stood motionless. ‘He deserved that,’ an old man in the front row said. Some yeahs and yeses followed. There was no more fist-pumping or roaring. Enid could feel a thousand icy stares piercing her skin. She turned to the speaker, pleading with her eyes to be taken away, hidden.

‘You are probably wondering who these people beside me are. They came to the referendum; they cast their votes. As every android had to. And even though the referendum was fake, we’ve still tallied the results.’ A chart with a few numbers was projected onto a board hanging on the fence behind the platform. ‘FHILTR’ with words running down under each letter, together forming ‘Fingerprint Human Intelligence to Lower Threat Risk’ was displayed at the top. ‘Twenty-two hund – well, roughly twenty-three hundred,’ the speaker said. ‘That’s the number of votes that were cast in favour of worsening the lives of those living in reservations.’

As he closed his mouth, pressed his lips together and let his eyebrows rise, he turned to the detainees beside him and shrugged as though saying to the crowd: ‘What do we have here?’ Finally, he continued, ‘All of them are humans. And before your eyes is but the first batch; more will come. All of them voted against humans. But why? Perhaps their goal was to maintain their android cover and that was what they thought an android would vote for? Well, an android would never vote for that: recognising collective and individual guilt without any impulsivity is one inherent characteristic separating androids and humans. Or perhaps this was something else, something more organised? An intentional act that could tear our two parts of society apart? There are some signs of that. But in the end, it’s not for us, androids, to judge this. The FHILTR worked and this is the result,’ he said and lifted his hand again, pointing to the detainees. ‘We will not judge them here, not to the fullest extent. You, humans, were targeted, it only makes sense that you decide their punishment.’

The speaker nodded to one of the men at the edge of the platform who promptly signalled the others and they removed the binds off of the detainees. One by one they were led down the stairs and into the crowd. Once Enid placed her foot on the topmost step, she looked ahead and felt repulsion rise in her throat like bile. Mustering her strength, she let her hoarse voice loose. ‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look at them. I’m nothing like them. The filth.’ The crowd started rumbling like a giant’s belly more and more. ‘How on earth is that possible? Just because I have a different opinion I get to live with them?’ She could feel her eyes welling up. She tried to shake off the hands gripping her, but their fingers dug into her skin even deeper.

‘There is no them, they are still part of us. Be kind to your eyes and learn to use them,’ the speaker said flatly.

The hands gripping her released and she found herself surrounded by angry humans, about to be crushed by the waves of their twisted faces. She elbowed her way forwards but the more she tried to move the more resistance she encountered. After a while, the sense of direction began to elude her. When she looked up, she saw arms flailing around her. Spit flew and landed on her face, mixing with her undried tears.

Enid screamed. It turned out to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, because no matter how hard she strained herself, and how much the pain in her lungs grew, the sound she made never reached her own ears.

About the Author:

Simon Renaka is a Paris-based writer and avid traveler who tries to find meaning in the seemingly mundane, often seeking a deeper connection between physical and spiritual realms. His writing explores the complex relationships between humans, animals, and even androids, offering insight into the shared consciousness that transcends species. His work has previously been featured in Fiction on the Web. Explore his latest projects through the following platforms: Twitter: @simon_renaka Instagram: @simon_renaka

*Feature image by Fons Heijnsbroek, abstract art on Unsplash