The prisoner blinked as the light fell upon her face. She looked up at her captors, confused as they held the key to her bound hands and unlocked the manacles.

The room held little furniture, only a desk, a chair, and some shelves behind them. A man sat at the desk, writing on a paper, not looking up as they entered.

The guards turned and stood by the doors of the rooms, not saying a word. Of course, their ticking clockwork could still be heard, as could the whir of gears as they moved. With a click and a hiss, they settled into the spaces carved out for them in the wall.

The prisoner knew better than to think they had been deactivated. Many had made that mistake before. Many had died because of that mistake, not just the ones who earned their ire.

"Prisoner 875-J. Convicted and sentenced to a year in the cells for theft of food." The man stated behind his desk, his face holding an uninterested, flat expression, "Do you know why you are here in this room?"

The girl shook her head.

"You are here because your sentence is up. Do you know what that means?" He continued, not looking her in the eye.

Another shake of the head.

"It means you go back to where you came from. Do you know what is expected of you?" He continued.

Another head shake.

"You are expected to report on your comings and goings to the right authorities. I know you've seen them. They're hard to miss." The man continued.

The prisoner blinked, but said nothing.

"You will be expected to learn a trade of one sort or another at your own expense. The Clockwork guards will return to ensure that this is happening. Additionally, attempts have been made to contact your parents. I assure you they..." He broke off and blinked, a frown coming to his neutral face.

He looked up at the girl, "I see your parents are also serving their sentences. Or were. Due to the circumstances, you have been placed in a home with a volunteer family. They will look after your needs. Your... belongings... such as they were, are currently in that chest there. You may pick them up on your way out."

The girl blinked at him and moved to open the chest. In side lay a set of tattered clothes and a small stuffed animal. It looked identical to how it had when she got there. She smiled and picked it up, hugging it to her chest. The clothes she picked up with her other hand, and she looked up at the man, who looked down at his papers once more.

When she didn't move or speak, he let out a small breath, "You are free to go."

With a hiss, the two guards detached themselves from the wall, and walked towards her. 

"Please go through the door that does not lead to the cells. Any resistance will be met with further detention." One of them emitted through their speaker.

The girl nodded and headed out the door. The whirring of gears and the hissing of steam followed her as the guards ensured she went the proper way.

The sunlight fell on her face, and she smiled, it felt good to be free again. She hugged her stuffed animal closer to her as the smell of the city hit her. She stepped forward into the smog of they prison layer, and into a city car. The autodriver whirred into life, and the car moved away. 

In the darkness of the interior she huddled in a ball, clutching the stuffed animal close to her chest. Tears streamed down her face as the walls seemed to close in. She could hear the thrumming of the engines keeping the prison running. Something would come to get her. It must nearly be time for her shift.

After what felt like an eternity the door hissed open. She flinched, expecting a clockwork guardian to step out. She didn't dare look up. Dangerous things could happen if they misinterpreted what someone did. She knew she needed to go to work, so an inch at a time, she looked up.

And reality reasserted itself. The car had stopped. She blinked. Outside lay a stretch of green plants and a path made of stone.

She tilted her head, looking at it in confusion. One foot at a time, she stepped out, taking the tattered remains of what she had worn before prison with her. To her surprise, someone got out of the front seat.

She looked up at the man in confusion. He had a sick look on his face that mixed with anger.

"Blasted things. Always sickening. I think I'll simply take the lift next time. Are you alright?" he stated.

She looked at him in confusion.

"The autocar? You feeling sick? No? Well, I suppose it's just me, then." The man continued, "Well, on with it, I suppose. No sense in waiting around for the grass to grow under your feet, I dare say."

The man let out a breath when she didn't reply and walked forward, "Now, be on your best behavior, understood? You don't want to go back there, do you?"

She shook her head, but knew he didn't see it.

"I suppose this is all for the best. What with your mother... well. And your father being, well who he is. Trust me when I say this is probably the best place for you. The folks here are very nice chaps, and they will make sure you're alright." He continued.

She didn't reply as she followed him down the path.

He took a deep breath and let it out, "You know, I don't know how they managed it here. Must have one hell of an air cleaner up here. But the air is quite clean, unlike what you've probably been used to your entire life. Best part of coming up here. Though, considering the trip itself, that's not saying much. God, I miss the country."

The two came around a curve, and there stood a proud manor surrounded by a fence. Within the fence sat a number of children of many ages, all playing happily by themselves as if they had been there their whole lives.

"She is a miracle worker, she is." The man commented, "All these children, and all healthy and happy. Before you ask, no, I don't know their names. My job is to make sure the paperwork is done right, and nothing else is really my responsibility. You don't seem like a dangerous gel, so let's go in."

He unlatched the gate and the pair of them entered. The man knocked at the door.

"Hold your horses, love. I'm comin'" A voice sounded from the other side.

A rather plump woman opened the door, smiling at the tall man, "Oh, hello again. You're right on time as usual. Bring 'er in, I'll sign the paperwork, and we'll get 'er taken care of."

She looked down at the girl, "Hello, love. Welcome to the 'ouse. I'm the caretaker here. What's your name, miss?"

The girl just looked up at her and didn't say a word.

"No need to be scared. I'm not goin' ta hurt ya." The lady responded, "Are ya hungry? Those prison rations ain't really much. I just finished some scones, an' I'll bet there's one with your name on it." She smiled at the girl.

The girl looked down, but entered the house with the man. The man pulled a file out of his suit coat and handed it to the lady.

"You've been through this before, so I'm certain this won't take long." He commented.

"Oh, of course not. Come on in, an' have a spot o' tea." The lady replied, "We'll get it all taken care of."

She looked down at the folder, and something caught her eye, "ah, What have we here, eh? I see."

She bent down to the girl's eye level, "I'm sorry to have pressed you for your name. No one told me you were a mute."

The man blinked, "She's a mute? Well, now don't I feel foolish."

"That's why you probably ought to take a look at these files afore you open your mouth." She replied, waving it in his face, "Now settle down, here, an' ave a scone. They're 'ot from the oven, an' it's one o' me good recipes. An' i'm talkin' ta both o' ya."

The girl sat down on a chair at the table as the man sat down on another. The woman placed the file down aside a platter piled high with glazed scones.

Later, as the sun set, she pondered on what happened that day. As it was, it looked as if things were going to be getting better. And that, at least, was something to hope for.