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Hello, everybody :D Here we can do the new task. It's about a short story ^^ Using the keywords, we have to write a short story (about the topic we want) around 200 words. We must use, at least, 3 keywords. The text must have coherence and meaning.

These are the words:

"machine", "picture", "smoke", "plug", "arm" and "heart".

Good luck :DDDD

His heart was pounding like a drum inside his chest as he crossed the fence and walked into the darkness of the small alley. A sign showing a picture of a dead person informed him he was now in the Restricted Area of the City, and he could hear the machines hovering in the sky as they hunted for intruders. Their laser sights cut through the smoke, and it was only a matter of time until they spotted him. But there was no turning back. He ran in the shadows towards his objective. Once there, he checked his watch one more time. The attack had to be synchronized. Carefully, he knelt next to a steel telecoms cabinet and quickly picked the lock to access the power unit. The lights were flickering, but the alarm had not gone off. He sighed in relief, and then stretched his arm to find the cables at the back, and pulled the plug. All the lights went off in that part of the City. And in a matter of seconds, the remaining Sectors were also dark. The Rebellion had started.

The man had a cigarrette in his mouth. He took a deep breath and exhaled a smoke's cloud. Deep inside he was very nervous. His heart beat with the strong of a drum. But he trid to look normal. Happy, even. 

He opened the door. On the other side, an old woman was resting on a bed. She seemed asleep, but she moved the head when the man entered the room. -Oh, you've come.- she said. -I'm so glad to see you.- He hugged the old lady and she kissed him in the cheek. The man showed a picture to the woman. -Look mom. You have a granddaughter. 

The old woman almost cried when she saw the little child. -Oh my God. She is...she is the most beautiful kid I've ever seen. 

The man was almost crying too. He looked at the arm of his mother. A tube connect the woman to a big machine. Without that machine she would be dead long time ago. But now she was condemned to a whole life in that bed. -You think I could meet her? Someday?- she asked. 

The doctors said that his mother was very bad. The plug on his arm only can give her one or two weeks more. But the end was inevitable and really close. 

We will see- said the man. -We will see. 

And he started to cry.

The night had fallen... his knees were trembling. Rogers had to take a moment and sit next to a tree. After all, he had not taken a moment of rest since the day before yesterday, he was no machine. As he sat, he contemplated the sourrounding woods. Like a picture taken out of one of Alfred Hitchcock's stories. The woods were dark... almost liveless, but he could clearly distinguish between the dark sky and the smoke that now erupted from the factory. 

His toughts were of fear for "her". He was the one who had brought all this calamity into other people's lives. Suddenly, he had to plug himself out of those thoughts of fear because not far from him, a noise of footsteps made him aware of the danger that was getting close to him, He was about to dart into the deepness of the forest when out of nowere an arm blocked his path: It was "her". Finally, Rogers hold her, as he felt his heart beat with greater joy that he had ever felt... they were toghether now.

When I woke up this morning my heart was beating faster than normal. I didn´t remember anything about my past. I had no picture about what was happening to me. It was a very strange sensation, but a new day had started and I was supposed to do something that I didn´t know. It was dark. I tried to turn on the lamp besides my bed which wasn´t working at all. It wasn´t my morning anyway. I sit on the bed trying to think, trying to plug on my brain. I moved my arms in coordination with my body to stand up and walk around my room. Then I saw a packet of cigarretes near the window. I went there to smoke one of them. But now I remember. I don´t smoke any more. No since last night that doctor turned all my body. Now I know who I am. I am not an Human. I am a machine.

"So, if you look at this section here on the picture..."

The doctor went on, in that inane monotone that most in his profession use to detach themselves from the awful, life-shattering reality of what they sometimes have to tell poor bastards like me, sitting on a worn chair at the desk, with our hearts in our throats, arms folded defensively across our chests- as if that gesture, the simple act of putting that flimsy barrier between us and the world could somehow stall the inevitable creep of reality on you.

Well, I call it reality. He calls it lung cancer. Or will do so when he summons the courage to stop skirting around it like a particularly coy schoolgirl on her first fuck date, stops pointing idiotly at parts of that black-and-white panorama of my guts and lays it down on me. 

But really, call it what you will, it all boils down to the same. Too much alcohol. Too much coke, of both the drinkable and injectable persuasions. Too much burgers and too few veggie salads. Too much smokes. Too much sex and not enough love. You've played that God´s machine,your body, like it was a fiddle, and we've had enough. We're pulling the plug. Sucks to be you, but we've put up with your shit long enough. Go pay the piper and don't you fucking slam the door on your way out.

For a second, I consider telling him that we really don't need to do this. That I know more about this stuff than he can even learn with his books and diagnoses and streptococcus and cava maximas. That dying gets old around the fifth time it happens. That I know all about it by now, and that the reason I've treated my body like a punching bag up to this point was, precisely, that I know.

I consider it.

Then I decide not to.

She arrived only half second after the alarm started to blare in her head, and saw the smoke emerging from that darn machines. Again. He helped his two minions put out the small fire in the refrigeration units, slightly singeing some of her feathers and the hair of his right arm in the process and, when everything was over, the three of them sat against the far wall with a collective sigh.

She would like to pull the plug on the whole thing and go back to the old checking the names by hand, but the Calculation Machines were the heart of the selection process, and the Big Shots were not keen in allowing more souls in the "Redemption for Work" program. But it was not easy keeping those things cool down there, and if something like the snafu last week happened again, his future wouldn't be a pretty picture. It's was bad enough that the people who talk on the phone at the cinema where sent to the same circle that the traitors, but somebody had entered Lucifer's personal pit in the system as a warehouse, and they had unloaded the last shipment of whips and leather uniforms there before the mistake was corrected. The big L was NOt pleased.

"You know what, guys" she said to his minions "let's take a break, I give you a physical body for the night and let's go try that human thing that you talked about yesterday. I think it was "getting drunk like a skunk". We deserve it"

Every day of the last week I've been doing this, coming here when it's only 1 hour left to close the museum. I walk through the galleries and arrived at the end of the mechanical section. Never have come here until last week. Then I came and saw the picture. It seems hypnotic to me. I always sit in the bench in the middle of the room and I watch it for one hour. The machine that is painted in it, seems alive. A piece of metal goes straight up as if it was an arm trying to reach the sky. A column of vapor or smoke gets out from de inside of the machine and looks as if it was breathing. A cable ended in a plug stands slightly rigid as a tail. The way is painted... all those colours, all the shadows... What an incredible painter his author should be... I bet he put all the passion in his heart to do it...

-My first night-

I always remember when I was to my first concert...the main gates have a pictures with the names of the artist...musician...singers...dancers...and magicians.

My sister and me have a ticket to the third line..we can see the technicians connective the smoke machine at plug ...

but it wasn´t important however the first number was Rolly Cannon a rock star singer with a beautiful tatto in her arm(She is a woman, I know...she has a strange name).

Other numbres were Tobby random, Marco Freira, La oreja de Van Gogh and Miguel Rios...my sister and me remembered this day because we bought a teddy hearts to throw to the stage...well this was not a good idea...a few teddy hearts fallen between the first line and the previous zone at stage...but Amaia leave the scenary to pick up the teddy heart and hold in to the people and to thank the gift.

When my sister and me returned to our house my mother cooked the dinner with overgine and chicken, a good option to a light meal.

Betrayed

Karl opened the door in a noisy way.

He was bleeding, and there was no time to be discreet. He wandered to the left wall of the small flat, and removed one of the pictures, showing a panel behind. After putting his palm over it, a serie of "beeps" started to sound at the same time an old machine emerged from the floor in the middle of the room.

Karl came close to the strange device, and plugged a cable into his bionic arm. It was very damaged, and sparks and smoke went out from it. The machine started to check his cyborg body, showing the status in a broken screen.

Systems at 76%, internal chip damaged, mainframe unstable, heart rate at 145 bpm,...

Not too bad. He would survive, as always.

But then, waiting for the automatic reparations to be finished, he thought about what the hell had happened during that night, about how Morgan had betrayed him, leaving him behind after the guards showed up from nowhere. Had it been his plan all the time? Did he use Karl and the rest of the team for his own benefit? Had Morgan notified the assault previously?

Too many questions, and only one answer for them.

Karl unplugged his arm and started to count the bullets of his weapon.

- Morgan, I'll find you!