This new room isn't so bad, it certainly beats the lab I woke up in. It's larger, for one. There's a window. A big one, that looks out onto the meticulously manicured garden. There's a bed, not a metal table. And there's a chair. A comfortable-looking armchair that Rylan seems to have claimed as his own, or really whoever is in here first.
I am still not wearing any clothes.
The bed, or what they're calling a bed is more like a large, shallow basin with a memory foam mattress. It's designed to keep me from rolling over. I'm still not strong enough to do that on my own. They still have to do it for me.
The transition wasn't so bad, if you can excuse one of the assistants nearly dropping the pump and almost yanking those tubes out. The look on everyone's face was priceless. I would have laughed if I could.
Rylan is still here. Him and Cassie. But there's a new face. A woman, older, with severe, angular features and a white coat so crisp it looks like it could cut glass. Dr. Joric is here too. He's been attached to my hip practically.
"Good morning, Six-eighty-two." The new woman says. Her voice is sharp and clipped, all business. She doesn't smile. She doesn't even seem capable of it. "I'm Dr. Terris. I'm with the Department of Neuro-Linguistic Engineering."
She looks over to Cassie, "He can hear me, right?" She asks.
"Probably."
Dr. Terris gestures to an assistant who's been standing silently in the corner, holding a silver briefcase. He opens it and pulls out a device that looks like a cross between a vintage radio and a medical scanner. It has a series of glowing dials and a small, black-and-green screen encapsulated in a rose red case.
"This is a prototype of the 'Synaptic Resonator'." Dr. Terris explains, "It was designed for coma patients, but we believe it can be adapted for your trials."
She glances at me, her eyes lingering on the clamps holding my eyelids open. There's no pity in her gaze. It's almost refreshing. At least she's not pretending to be my friend.
"It works by reading the electrical impulses in your brain and translating them into words." Dr. Terris continues. "It's not perfect, of course. The output is rather poor when the target is under stress or high neural activity. But Dr. Joric says he is looking to start branching some of the other trials to be used here." She gives a slight chuckle. "Might as well right? Just handing over all of our experimental technology to... Whatever it is he's been assigned to."
Dr Joric clears his throat. "I wasn't expecting this much delay in our trials, Doctor. At least by doing this we can gather some in-between data while we wait for Six-eighty-two to fully recover."
"If it ever recovers." Dr. Terris mutters, almost under her breath.
"Get the device ready." Dr. Joric says, ignoring her. "Let's see what we can get."
The technician places the device on a rolling table next to my bed. He flips a switch, and the dials on the front of the machine light up with a soft, green glow. They must really like green around here.
Cassie gently places a series of cold, sticky electrodes on my temples. The not-my-skin tingles where they make contact.
"Hehhhhhhh..." I whine, the sound a pathetic, reedy thing. I hate it. I hate the sound of this body. I hate everything.
"Alright, Six-eighty-two." Dr. Terris says. "We're going to ask you some questions. This device will give you the capability to speak using your mind... Sort of."
"Sort of?" Rylan asks from his armchair. He's been quiet for a while, just watching.
"Single words, mostly. Sometimes short phrases. It will be our job to interpret them." She looks back at me "Do you understand, Six-eighty-two?"
I understand perfectly. I understand that you're a condescending bitch. I understand that I hate every single one of you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. I understand that—
A green light flashes on the device.
Dr. Terris raises an eyebrow. "Well, at least it's working." she says, "Now, what do you see?"
Fuck all. Its all just... patterns, colors, shapes. Like if you unplugged a TV cable, that's what I see. Then there's also the nightmare creatures, and whatever other horrors my mind can cook up.
"Bad? Bad what?" She turns to Rylan. "What could 'bad' mean?"
He shrugs. "It's your device."
"He's... I don't think he can see that well. His brain integrity is still too low for complex visual processing." Cassie says, tapping on her datapad.
"So what does he see?" Dr. Terris asks, I think her patience is wearing thin.
"Probably what you or I would see if our brain was at twenty-six percent integrity. A lot of... nothing."
"Then what does 'bad' mean?" Dr. Terris snaps.
Dr. Terri lets out an exasperated sigh. "Okay... That has to be a false positive. Damn machine..."
"Are you certain that your device is actually ready for field testing?" Dr. Joric asks, adjusting his glasses. "I told you it was not."
"I'm certain it's ready. It's just... unrefined. We're still working on the semantic algorithms."
"Uh-huh."
Dr. Joric looks at the screen. "'Semantic algorithms' you say? And it's giving me the word 'plate?'" He gestures towards the general direction of the room. "Where do you see a plate in here?"
Dr. Terris scoffs. "Maybe he is just hungry."
"I wasn't being serious, Doctor."
They all go silent. They all look at each other. Then, they all look at me. I can't move my head to look away from their... their... stares. I can feel their eyes on me.
I try to say more. I try to tell them that I'm not hungry. I'm not thinking about plates. I'm thinking about the blood. The blood that I can almost feel coursing through these... these... veins. The blood of the woman whose body I'm inhabiting. I hate it.
"Blood?" Rylan says from the armchair. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Plate... blood... Could be a reference to blood types. A-B-O, platelets... it's a stretch, but it's a possibility."
"Or he could just be fucking with us." Cassie says, earning a glare from Dr. Terris.
"Language."
"He's not capable of that yet, Cassie." Rylan says. "His emotional and cognitive functions are still too fragmented."
The word appears on the screen in stark, blocky letters.
Cassie's eyes widen.
"Okay." Rylan says, "That's not a false positive."
"He... He said my name." Cassie whispers, her face a mask of shock and disbelief.
"He can't say your name, Cassie. He's probably just picking up on the sound of your name. A phonetic artifact." Dr. Terris says.
"He remembers my name."
"No, he doesn't."
"What about you, Doctor Joric?" Rylan asks. "What do you think?"
"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves." Dr. Joric says, pushing himself off the wall. "We're trying to interpret a signal that we don't understand. We're like primitive tribesmen trying to decipher a radio broadcast from a distant star."
"So what do you suggest?" Dr. Terris asks.
"More data." Dr. Joric says. "More questions. More controlled stimuli. We need to establish a baseline."
"Like what?"
"Let's try something simpler." He walks over to the window, his back to me. "Six-eighty-two, can you tell me what you see outside?"
I can't make sense of the world outside this room.
"Again with 'bad'." Dr. Terris says.
"No, no." Dr. Joric says. "This is different. Look at the waveform." He points to a smaller screen on the Synaptic Resonator. "The spike is lower, more sustained. The last one was sharp, an emotional response. This one is absolutely cognitive."
"He's trying to process the information." Cassie says.
"But he can't." Rylan adds. "His brain can't translate the photons hitting his retina into a coherent image. So it's just... 'bad'."
"Okay." Dr. Terris says, tapping her stylus against her datapad. "Let's try another sensory input. Sound." She turns to Rylan. "Rylan, say something. Anything."
Rylan looks at me. He looks... conflicted.
"Six-eighty-two." he says, his voice soft.
The word flashes on the screen, accompanied by a sharp, jagged spike on the waveform monitor.
Rylan steps back, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and surprise.
"Damn, okay then."
"Language." Dr. Terris says without looking up from her datapad.
"M-maybe he just hates the number. You hate the number... Right?" Rylan asks, his voice is a little shaky.
"Okay." Dr. Terris says, "He does not like you, Rylan."
"He's just a bundle of hate, isn't he?" Dr. Joric says, a hint of what almost sounds like amusement in his voice.
"I... I have been with him since the start, Dr. Joric. He never said anything bad to me before."
"Mm. Looks can be deceiving." Dr. Terris replies.
I did. You just couldn't hear me. But now... Now you can. And I will make sure you hear every single word.
"Okay, let's move on." Dr. Joric says, "Let's try touch. Cassie, you're the closest."
Cassie hesitates for a moment, her hand hovering over my not-my-arm. She glances at Rylan, then at me. Her touch is gentle, almost hesitant. Her fingers are warm, her skin soft against the fur of this body.
For a moment, I feel... nothing. It's just a pressure. But then, something. A memory, not mine, bubbles to the surface. A memory of a cool, spring evening. A memory of a hand, just like this, holding my own. A memory of...
The word appears on the screen, sharp and jagged. A wave of cold dread washes over me, so intense it makes the not-my-body shudder.
"He's probably not used to it. The body can't process it correctly." Dr. Joric says, "Keep trying, Cassie. Light touches, different areas."
Cassie complies, her fingertips tracing a path down my forearm. The not-my-skin tingles, a strange mix of sensation and memory. I can feel the warmth of her hand, but I can also feel the ghost of another touch, another time. A touch that is both comforting and terrifying.
"I'll be damned." Dr. Terris mutters, her stylus frozen above her datapad.
"I told you that you would be shocked." Dr. Joric says, "This isn't a rat or a lesser creature. I told you that this would happen. You didn't believe me."
"He has a very... active emotional state." Dr. Terris concedes, her eyes glued to the monitor. "What else do you feel, Six-eighty-two?"
I don't know you. I don't like you.
"Oh come on. You listen to them and not me?"
You'd be correct. Fuck you. I'm just not going to answer you.
"I think it's a semantic bleed." Dr. Terris says, tapping her stylus against her datapad. "How about we assess pain response?" She turns to Rylan. "Rylan, can you pinch him?" Rylan looks at me, then at Dr. Terris. He doesn't move. "I mean... Not hard, just enough to register a pain response."
"No." Rylan says, "No. I am not going to—"
"Pinch. Him. Or I will do it myself." Dr. Terris says. "We need to establish a baseline. And if you don't have the stomach for it, then maybe you should find another line of work."
He looks at Cassie, who simply lowers her head. He looks to Dr. Joric, who is staring at the machine, seemingly deep in thought.
Then he looks at me.
His hand reaches out, hesitates for a moment, and then he pinches the skin on my not-my-forearm. It's a quick, sharp pinch. It doesn't hurt, not really. It's just... a pressure.
Cassie looks at the monitor and stifles a laugh. She quickly clears her throat and pretends to be absorbed in her datapad. Dr. Terris gives her a death glare.
"Okay." Dr. Terris says, "Pain response is normal. That's good. That means the neural pathways are... somewhat intact." She makes a note on her datapad. "Now, let's try something a little more visceral."
She turns to the technician. "Hand me that scalpel."
"What?!" Rylan and Cassie say in unison.
"Just a small incision." Dr. Terris says, as if she's asking for a pen. "We need to see how the body reacts to a more... sustained injury."
"You can't be serious." Dr. Joric says, stepping forward. "We are not vivisecting our primary subject." he says.
"It's not vivisection, it's a controlled incision." Dr. Terris snaps. "We need the data. It's for the good of the project."
"The good of the project? You're not on this team, the only reason you're here is to oversee the functionality of your department's tech, not our patient." Dr. Joric says.
"And you seem to have forgotten that this is a subject, Doctor. A condemned, unrepentant thing. We owe him nothing."
"The blood substitute cannot clot. Your incision will be a fountain."
"Then cauterize it." Dr. Terris says, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I have work to do. Do you?"
"I am not letting you do that. I will not be a part of this."
"Then stand aside and watch." Dr. Terris says, turning to the technician. "The scalpel."
The assistant hesitates, his eyes darting between Dr. Terris and Dr. Joric. He's caught in the middle of a pissing match between two very powerful people.
He hands her the scalpel.
Dr. Joric steps off the wall.
Rylan stands up. Cassie puts her datapad down.
Dr. Terris ignores them all. She approaches the bed, the scalpel held loosely in her hand. She looks down at me, her expression a mixture of cold curiosity and clinical detachment.
She's going to do it. She's actually going to do it.
I've been stabbed before. Back when I was a... a me. A man. In a bar fight. It hurt. A lot. But this... this is different.
With all my might I turn to look at her, lifting my arm off the bed. I have to take it from her. She can't do this.
"shhh... seeeeeeehhh..."
"Put your hand down."
"shhh... iiiiiii...."
Dr. Joric puts a hand on her shoulder and grabs her arm with his other. "That's enough!"
"This is my jurisdiction, Doctor." Dr. Terris says.
"No. It is not. Subject Six-eighty-two is assigned to me. My trial. You are here for your device, nothing more." Dr. Joric's grip on her shoulder tightens. "You will not harm him. You will not touch him. You will not even breathe in his direction. Am I clear?"
"Doctor—"
"Am. I. Clear?"
She reluctantly hands the scalpel back to the technician. She says nothing.
"Rylan, please escort Dr. Terris and her colleague from the room. That's enough of this for today." Dr. Joric says. "Cassie, I need to speak with you."
"R-Right away, Doctor." Cassie replies.
Rylan Looks at me. He opens his mouth, like he wants to say something. But he doesn't. He just helps Dr. Terris pack up the device. He's gentle with her, despite everything. He's a good person. I hate him for it.
As they're leaving, Rylan looks back. There's something in his eyes. Pity?
I hope it's fear.
The door slides shut behind them, and the room is quiet again. Just me, Dr. Joric, and Cassie.
Dr. Joric lets out a long, slow breath. He runs a hand through his fur and paces the length of the room.
"That... was a mistake," he says, mostly to himself. He stops by the window, looking out at the manicured garden, but not really seeing it. "Bringing her in here was a mistake."
"Doctor...?" Cassie asks.
"This is not going to plan." Dr. Joric says, turning from the window. "The integration wasn't supposed to do this. The rats... they... they... they went from dead to living in minutes." He gestures to the pump. "They didn't need any of this."
"D-doctor."
"Great stones how could I be so... so... I was trying to skip a step in the process... I thought... No."
"D-doctor." Cassie says again, this time more insistent.
Dr. Joric looks at her. "What, Cassie?"
"You needed to talk to me?" She asks, holding her datapad to her chest.
"Right." Dr. Joric says, "Right." He composes himself. "Um... I need you to run a diagnostic on the... uh..." He lowers his hands to his side. "I can't recall the name of it, it's in the... The... the..."
"D-doctor, are you okay?" Cassie asks.
"Fine. I'm fine." he says, "Just..." He shakes his head. "The pump. Run a diagnostic on the pump. Make sure we didn't damage anything when we moved it."
"...Right away."
Cassie gives him a worried look, then quickly huddles around the cylinder and begins her work, the lights on her datapad painting her face in a sickly blue glow.
Dr. Joric turns back to the window.
I watch him. I watch him as he stares out at the garden, his shoulders slumped, a picture of defeat. He's in over his head. He's made a terrible mistake, Gee Joric, you couldn't have had this 'oh shit' moment BEFORE you put me here? I almost want to laugh.
"Everything is fine." Cassie says. "Blood content is nominal, no visible damage. No leaking."
"What about the nutrient content?"
"Hmm. A bit low on the vitamins. I think its about time we start replacing some." Cassie says, looking at him, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... out of it."
"I am. I'm fine. Just get it done." Dr. Joric replies.
"I would need Dr. Lira's team to handle it, they know how to work this more than I do."
"And how long is that going to take to write off?"
"By tomorrow morning, probably? They will have to go over all the paperwork and..." Dr. Joric cuts her off.
"Good. Good. That's fine. It's... fine." Dr. Joric says. He rubs the bridge of his nose. "Just get it done. I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want some?"
"No, thank you, Doctor." Cassie replies.
"Alright." Dr. Joric says, and with that, he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Cassie.
The door slides shut, and the room is quiet again. Just the hum of the pump and the gentle tapping of Cassie's fingers on her datapad.
She looks over at me, her expression unreadable.
"So." she says, her voice barely a whisper. "That was... something."
She pauses, as if expecting a response. I can't give her one. The Synaptic Resonator is gone.
"ssssssehhhhh..."
"I know, I know." she says, "It must be frustrating." She sets her datapad down and walks over to the bed. She looks down at me, her eyes soft, but there's a wariness there too. A caution.
"You said my name." she says. "On the... the thing. You remembered my name."
I did. I remember everything. I remember your name. I remember the way you looked at me when they brought me in here. I remember the way you flinched when I had my seizure. I remember the way you looked at Rylan when he touched me. I remember everything.
My eyelid twitches. That's new.
Cassie's breath hitches.
I want to look at her, but my head wont move, so I don't move it. Instead, I try to look at her with the not-my-eyes, but I can't. I'm just... staring at the ceiling.
Look at her, damn it! Look at her!
I try. I can't.
Don't you fucking dare give up. I said look at her! Do it!
It doesn't work.
LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT HER!
I look at her.
The eyes, my new eyes, they slowly and achingly turn to her. It hurts, but I do it. I need to see her face.
Her own eyes widen. Her grasp on the datapad loosens for a second, and she almost drops it.
"H-hi." she stammers.
I don't say anything. I just look at her. I look at her with an intensity that I hope conveys... everything. The hatred. The fear. The confusion. The... the... what is this?
"You... you moved your eyes."
"Mngh."
It's the closest I can get to 'no shit'.
"Okay." she says, taking a step back. "Okay." She's... scared of me. Good.
The door slides open, and Rylan walks in, carrying a tray with vials and syringes. He stops in his tracks when he sees me looking at Cassie.
"What the..."
Cassie nods. "I know. It just... happened."
Rylan sets the tray down on a small table and walks over to the other side of the bed.
"Can you... can you do it again?" he asks.
I don't know.
"Try and look at me."
Ugh. I turn my head, or try to. The seizure must have weakened me. All I manage is a slight, almost imperceptible shift in my gaze.
"That's... something." Rylan says, looking at Cassie. "We should document this."
She adjusts her grip on the datapad and begins to type furiously.
While she's busy, Rylan picks up a syringe from the tray. He holds it up to the light, checking for air bubbles. The clear liquid inside shimmers.
"I need to provide the brain with more chemicals." he says, more to himself than to me.
Needle! Needles are a bad thing.
"hnnnnnnn..."
I tense up. Or the body tenses up. It's hard to tell the difference anymore. Rylan notices.
"Hey, it's okay." he says. "It's not going to hurt." He's lying. He's a liar. I remember.
"eshhhhhooo..."
Rylan you fucker! Stop it! You're hurting me!
Rylan flinches, but he doesn't stop. He plunges the needle into the port on the device on my head. A sharp, electric jolt of pain shoots through my skull, and it HURTS.
"Agh! nnnnnnngh..!"
Rylan winces "Oh I don't like those sounds..."
I told you not to do that! I told you! You stupid, useless, fucking—
"There." Rylan says, patting my not-my-shoulder. "Better now, right?"
I hate him. I hate him more than I've ever hated anything.
"hnnnngh..."
He picks up another syringe, its also clear. I see him do it. And I don't want it.
My clumsy, alien fingers wrap around his wrist. It's not a strong grip. I can barely hold on. But I do.
He pries my fingers from his wrist, one by one. My grip is pathetically weak.
"Easy there, Six-eighty-two." he says, "We're just trying to help."
No! No! Stop! Please!
"ehehhhhh uehhhhhh..."
"It's okay. We're almost done." He says.
PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU! I WILL DO ANYTHING!
He ignores me, like he always does. He plunges the second needle into the port. Another jolt of pain.
"nngh... NNGHHHH..!"
Cassie looks up from her datapad wearing a worried expression on her face.
"Was that a scream?" she asks.
"I think it was." Rylan says, rubbing the spot on my arm where I grabbed him. "It's getting more articulate."
It hurts so bad. I hate this. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! I HATE IT!
"Rylan! Look!" Cassie says, pointing to me. "The eyes, the—"
I'm crying. Actual, salty tears are welling up in my not-my-eyes and streaming down my not-my-face. It's a weird sensation, a warm, wet trail on skin that I can't feel. I can't feel it, but I know it's there. The only thing I can feel is sad. Genuine, soul-crushing sadness. I'm miserable. I'm a miserable, pathetic creature, and I can't do anything about it.
"Fuck me..." Rylan breathes.
"I... I should get Doctor Joric."
"No. Don't. Let me... let me handle this."
He reaches out, his hand hovering just above my face. He wants to wipe the tears away, I can see it in his eyes. But he hesitates. He's afraid of me.
"shhhh... hehhhhh..."
"Okay. Okay." Rylan says, "It's okay. You're okay." He finally does it. He gently, so gently, wipes the tears from my cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is soft, almost reverent. It makes me want to scream.
"Hey... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he whispers.
Sorry for what? Sorry for sticking needles in my head? Sorry for trapping me in this body? Sorry for letting that... that... vulture try to cut me open? Get your filthy fucking hands off of me! Get them off! GET THEM OFF!
"Fuck this is hard." Rylan whispers to Cassie, trying to fight a sniffle. "I..."
"You're fine, Rylan."
He clears a lump from his throat and wipes his own eyes.
"Shit." He turns back. "Sorry, its almost involuntary... When someone cries I start crying and then it turns into this whole mess and—"
"I know. It's called sympathy." Cassie says. "You're a kind person."
"Just... just continue the documentation and let's move on with the checks."
"What about the other medications?"
"We can give them to him later."
"But—"
"Later."
"Alright."
…It’s dark when I wake up, or at least come to my senses. The only source of light is a thin, sliver of moonlight slicing through the window and a handful of small, blinking lights on the pump that is my new heart. The room is quiet. It must be late.
I am alone.
Good.
I move my not-my-head towards the window. To see the moon. I can feel the muscles in my neck protesting. If I can't sleep then I want to at least be doing something. But just as my not-my-eyes find the pale orb in the sky, a shadow detaches itself from the corner of the room.
I flinch. A bad, jerky movement that sends a jolt of pain through my not-my-spine. The body is still so clumsy.
"ssshhhheeehhhh..."
"Shhh." a voice says. It's a woman's voice. "Quiet." Its not Cassie. Its not Dr. Lira. Who..?
"You're up past your bedtime, Six-eighty-two."
It's Dr. Terris.
The shadow moves closer, resolving into her form. She's not in her lab coat, but in a set of dark blue scrubs. She looks smaller, somehow. Less… official. She has a tablet in her hand.
What an... unpleasant surprise, Dr. Terris. To what do I owe the pleasure?
I try to sneer, but all that comes out is a weak, breathy hiss.
She smirks. "Don't strain yourself. We both know you can't talk." She taps the screen of her tablet. "Not yet at least."
You shouldn't be here.
"Joric really ought to change his keycodes. He must think I'm so stupid I can't remember our first date. Or the name of his favorite childhood pet." She shakes her head. "Sentimental fool."
She's not supposed to be here. Rylan and Cassie are gone. Dr. Joric is gone.
"sssshehhhh... dddoooo..."
"Don't?" she asks, "Don't what? Don't do this?" She holds up her tablet, I can't see what's on the screen. It's not the Synaptic Resonator. It's...
"Arthur Penhaligon."
...
"Born... well, who cares about that. Convicted of... oh, a long list of things. Assault, multiple counts of aggravated hate speech. You've been a busy little beaver, haven't you, Arthur?"
...
"Let's see... You spent six years in the Etrilian Rehabilitation Program, only to be sent to the Institute for Social Correction and Evaluation. My my." Her thumb flicks across the screen. "After that, your Associate, Kaius Ovin 'coerced' Doctor Athena Aris into signing the release form to bring you here, to the ICCU as a trial subject under the same designation as the Institute, Six-eighty-two." She swipes the screen again. "Right here, it says you are a trial subject. A tool. a resource. To the ICCU as a whole, not just Joric's department. This means I am perfectly within my rights to perform my own experiments."
She's going to kill me.
"hhhnnnggg!"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic."
She taps the screen again.
"I did my own research too, on Dr. Lira's latest 'A.R.D Auto-pump Mk.II'." She says, "A variation of the LVAD, but with integrated respiratory functions. It does everything. It breathes for you. It circulates your blood. A marvel of medical engineering, really." She looks at me, "But you don't have normal blood in you, do you? You have a substitute. A nutrient-rich, water-based blood substitute that changes pigment when oxygenated." She smirks. "Dr. Lira must really love green, its an... odd color choice."
She's going to kill me.
"It's a clever system. It keeps you alive. It keeps you fed. But it has a drawback, doesn't it? When your body absorbs the water, the waste has to go somewhere." She gestures to a small, opaque canister attached to the base of the pump. A thin, green tube leads from it. "And so it does. The pump extracts the excess and ejects it as a byproduct."
She stops pacing and stands by the pump. She runs a finger along its surface.
"But what happens if the ejection system fails? What happens if the byproduct builds up? The fluid becomes viscous, toxic. The system clogs. The pump strains. And you... you die. A slow, painful death." She looks at me. "Lucky for you, there's a procedure for that. A way to remove the contaminated fluid and replace it with a fresh batch."
Her fingers find a small, recessed button on the pump's control panel.
"You know, you embarrassed me today, Six-eighty-two. In front of everyone. Joric. My own team." Her fingers dance across the holographic interface that springs to life above the pump. "You made a mockery of my work."
"I'm not a person to be trifled with."
The room is silent.
"You are a stain, Six-eighty-two. A blight on this world. A relic of a bygone era. You are what we're trying to move past. You are a... a mistake."
She smiles and turns back to her spot in the darkness.
"ssshhhheeehhhh... aaaaaahhhh...!"
"Hush." Terris says. "Or I'll make this even more unpleasant for you."
She returns with her device, the Synaptic Resonator. She places electrodes on my head, her touch is rough.
"Ngh...!"
"I need you to answer a few questions for me." Dr. Terris says, her voice a low purr. "A little... late-night survey."
I don't want to. Go away... Please go away...
"You're a smart man, aren't you, Six-eighty-two? Or, you were. Let's see if any of that is left." She taps the screen of her tablet. "Let's find out. Tell me about the Taijekan."
I don't want to talk to you...
Her thumb hovers over a button on her tablet. I don't know what it does, but I'm not sure I want to find out. Her eyes, even in the dark, are sharp, and they're fixed on me.
"I'm waiting, Six-eighty-two."
I have no choice. I have to answer.
"Cold. But expected. Let's try again. Why don't you like them?"
A wave of images floods my mind. Fires. Screaming faces. My old life.
"You must really hate them." She says, a flicker of something in her eyes. "Is that why you're here? Because of your hate?"
"And do you still hate them, Six-eighty-two?"
"Even now?" She gestures to the body I inhabit. "Even when you are one of them?"
I... I don't know.
"Maybe?" She raises an eyebrow. "That's not a very strong conviction, is it? For a man who was willing to die for his beliefs."
I don't know what I believe anymore.
I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't answer.
"Hm. Fine." She says. "Let's change the subject." She taps her screen again. "Let's talk about you. About what you were."
I don't want to.
"What was your name again?" she asks, her voice a sweet poison. "It's right here on the tip of my tongue."
"There it is. Arthur." She says, savoring the word. "Such a... civil name. Such a... Mënskan name." She looks at me, her eyes boring into mine. "But you're not Arthur anymore, are you?"
...
"No. You're not." she says. "You're Six-eighty-two. You're a number. A tool. And tools don't have names."
She leans in closer, her face inches from mine. "I have an idea. Let's see if I can help you forget your old name."
"ehhh... uhhhh..."
"Do you want to hear about the person you are now? The person you are pretending to be?"
No.
"She was a Taijekan." She clears her throat and swipes her tablet a few times. "Age twenty-seven. Graduated secondary schooling with a four point two GPA, specializing in... 'Art History'." She scoffs. "Went on to work at the Etrilian Grand Museum of Art and History as a junior archivist. She lived in Aelgate, Avensholt Province with her parents, one younger sibling, and her partner."
I don't want to know.
"She had a name, too." Dr. Terris says. "A name that's not a number. A name that's not a mistake." She looks at me. "Her name was Lynette. Kyra. Geller." She says it slowly, savoring each syllable. "Lynette."
Lynette.
Lynette. Lynette. Lynette. Lynette.
The name echoes in the empty caverns of my mind. A name that is not mine. A name that belongs to this body.
And that's the most terrifying thing of all.
"Now here's the kicker. Cause of death was Cardiac Arrest due to undiagnosed cardiac arrhythmia. She was working late, one night. She collapsed. No one found her for hours. By the time the paramedics arrived, she was gone. Her partner, he authorized the use of her body for this project. Apparently without the consent of her family." She says. "In fact, I don't even think the family knows she is dead. They probably think she's on a work trip."
She's enjoying this. She's savoring every word.
"He must have really loved her." She says. "To let us do this to her."
I don't want to hear this. I don't want to know. I want it to stop.
"I wonder what he would think," Dr. Terris says, leaning in closer, her breath hot on my ear. "If he could see you now. If he could see her, with your mind trapped inside."
I can't breathe. I can't move. I'm trapped.
"She was beautiful, you know." Dr. Terris whispers. "Graceful. Kind. Everything you're not."
"ssshhhheeehhhh... nnnnooooo..."
The word appears on the screen of the Synaptic Resonator.
"No?" Dr. Terris asks. "No, you don't want to hear it? Or no, you don't believe me?"
I don't know.
"Lynette Geller." she says, her voice a low, venomous hiss. "Say her name."
"SAY. IT."
"I know you can. The device picks up your neural signals. Your thoughts. I can see it, right here." She points to her tablet. "All those little spikes. The little whispers of your mind."
"I'm growing impatient, Lynette. Say your name. Or I'll make you."
"Away? I'm not going anywhere." She says. "Not until we're done here."
She brings her face closer, until it's all I can see. Her eyes, dark and hard, boring into me.
"Now," She says. "Say your name."
FUCK NO.
"Hmm. Fine." She stands up, her posture straightening. "Perhaps your blood substitute is building up in your brain and causing you to think poorly."
She turns away and walks back to the pump.
"I need to get a baseline for your pain tolerance anyways. So this is killing two birds with one stone."
She taps a sequence of commands into the pump's interface. A small, glowing icon appears on the screen: a single drop of liquid falling into a beaker.
"The Drain." she says. "You ready, Lynette?" The question is rhetorical.
Her finger hovers over the 'initiate' button.
"shhh... ehhhhh... eoooooo..."
She doesn't answer. She just smiles. Then she presses the button.
It’s only a few seconds of humming, but then I feel a pull, a tugging. Someone grabbing me under the skin and yanking as hard as they could.
"Ahih… ahhh! Aaaaaaah!"
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
"I'm curious, Lynette," she says, her voice calm like she's commenting on the weather. "How much do you remember? Do you remember the smell of your mother's cooking? The feeling of the sun on your skin?"
The pump retracts a plunger inside, and the empty channel fills with a green pus-like substance, it fills slower than paint dries.
I grab one of the tubes protruding from my throat, almost like I want to yank on it. But I can't. My fingers are too weak. My grip is useless.
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
"Oh, that's a good sound." Dr. Terris says, making a note on her tablet. "That's a genuine distress signal." She looks up from her tablet and grins. "I'm proud of you. You're learning."
The pressure intensifies. The machine’s channel fills completely with the green substance, then drains to a collection below. The plunger pushes back, then begins to pull on me again. Now it’s really starting to get uncomfortable. A tugging. I can feel it in my chest, my arms, my legs. The feeling of someone grabbing a handful of my insides and pulling. Hard.
"Nghhh ehhh ishhhhhhhhhhh..."
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
I can't... Breathe... I... Fuck...!
"I know." she says, not looking up from her tablet. "That's the point."
Every few seconds, the pump whirs and the pulling starts again. The channel fills with green. The plunger pushes. The pump whirs. The pulling starts again. It's a rhythm. A painful, soul-crushing rhythm. Each pull is a little harder. A little longer.
"NNGH!"
I grip the edges of the bed, my knuckles white under the fur. I try to push myself up, to get away, but the body is too weak. It's like trying to lift a mountain. I'm trapped.
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
I try to scream, but all that comes out is a choked, gurgling sound. My lungs are burning. They're empty. They're trying to draw in air, but there's none. The pump isn't breathing for me. It's just... pulling.
"Hhhhh... hhhhhh... hhhhhh..."
Fuck this hurts... FUCK THIS HURTS! I'm going to die. I'm actually going to die.
"ssshhheeehhhh... ehhhhh... ssshhhee..."
ANCESTORS PLEASE I BEG YOU! SAVE ME! I'M GOING TO FUCKING DIE! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS! I DIDN'T WANT THIS!
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
Dr. Terris looks up from her tablet, a bored expression on her face. "Dramatic."
My vision is starting to get blurry. The edges are darkening. I'm dying.
The pump drains again. There is... a lot. The container below is almost full, but the pulling doesn't stop. In fact, it seems to be getting stronger.
"ssshhheeehhhh... ehhhhh... aaaaaaahhh!"
The dark spots are getting bigger. I can't see her anymore. I can't see anything.
"I'm going to ask you one more time, Six-eighty-two." She says, her voice cutting through the haze. "Say her name."
"ssshhheeehhhh..."
LYNETTE! LYNETTE! LISTEN TO ME! PLEASE!
She scoffs. "Still fighting. Now there's the man who is willing to die for his beliefs."
LYNETTE! LYNETTE! LYNETTE! LYNETTE! LYNETTE! LYNETTE!
"NNMMM...! GHHH...!" The body is convulsing.
This is it. This is the end. My last thoughts will be of a name I've only just learned. Of a woman I've never met. Of a body I've been forced to inhabit.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The pump is screaming. A high-pitched, piercing wail that slices through the fog of my pain.
"What in the..." Dr. Terris says, her head snapping towards the device. She looks at the screen. "That's not..."
The pump is still pulling, but it sounds like its screaming too. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong. The green liquid in the collection container is still rising, but it's not smooth anymore. It's lumpy. Clotted.
"Fucking... piece of... shit." She mutters, her fingers flying across the interface. "Stop. Stop!"
The pump doesn't respond. The pulling continues. The screaming continues.
My body arches off the bed.
"ssshhheeehhhh... AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
"Damnit! Fuck this!" She rips the electrodes of her device off my head. The sudden loss of connection is almost as painful as the procedure itself. "I was never here, you got that!? You were dreaming. A nightmare. Do you understand me!?"
She glances at the door, panic flaring in her eyes. The alarm is loud. Someone will be here any second.
She scrambles to gather her things, her tablet, her electrodes, shoving them into her bag. She looks at me one last time, her face full of fury and fear. Then she's gone. The door slides shut behind her, and I'm alone again.
WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR.
The pump is still screaming. Still pulling. I have nothing left to give other than my soul.
The door slides open, and a pair of footsteps echo amongst the commotion of the pump.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?"
Its Rylan.
