Number Karall - Serial

"What was my first name?" he asked.

The mission came on a Tuesday. The facility alarms bleated red. Through the grate, a new voice—urgent, almost human—said: "Karall. The Archive has been breached. Ingress point: Sublevel 9. Eliminate all hostiles. Recover the core memory module. Termination of non-essential personnel authorized." Serial Number Karall

Karall had stared at him for a long ten seconds. Then he stood, walked to the grate, and reported himself for "thought irregularity." That night, N-2C-33A was gone. The slot where his tray used to appear was welded shut. "What was my first name

Karall felt nothing. Weapons don't feel. Eliminate all hostiles

The other serial numbers—J-9M-02S, T-7V-55D—avoided him. Not out of fear, but recognition. They were all broken in the same way. During rare meal rotations, they would sit in silence, chewing the paste, eyes vacant. Once, a new one—a boy with a fresh brand on his neck, N-2C-33A —whispered, "Do you remember your name? Before the number?"

"The 'K' stands for Karall," she continued, not flinching. "That was your real surname. The '4R' is your blood type and retinal category. And the '11L'? That's your entry date. November 11th. The day they took you. You were seven years old."

The lights flickered. The floor began to hum with a low-frequency charge—the prelude to an electrostatic override. Karall had seen it used on others. It would lock his joints, fry his motor cortex, leave him a drooling husk.