somebody ; minsung

XXXIII ; the hearing

I didn't expect wearing clothes to feel so weird. As Seoyeon put it, we'd basically been living as nudists. Though now there are clothes covering my body, I feel more exposed than protected. Being in public is a war that I almost always lose — I've become a bit of a hermit since we escaped the laboratory.

Luckily my life doesn't require me to go outside often. The only times I do is when I have the chance to tell my story as an Oracle cyborg. I've told it over and over again, to police and the tabloids and even a therapist (Jisung insisted I at least try it), but this is the first time I'll be telling it to someone who could make a difference.

Our case — Taro v. Oracle Laboratories — is finally on its way to court. Though the lawsuit has Haruko's name on it, we've all been backing it since the beginning. The lawyers are having each of us tell our stories, highlighting the human rights violations, so they can build it into a comprehensive case for Oracle's dismantling.

Every scientist that revolted that day has been interviewed, but we — Jisung, Haruko, Jai, Lý, Seoyeon, Junghwa, and myself — are considered special voices. One by one, we tell our stories from start to finish, sparing no detail, while the rest wait outside a little room full of couches and old magazines.

I can't lie, it's also a little weird for all of us to be here. We haven't been together as a group since the revolt. It's surreal to see them, knowing what we share, what we've gone through, how we're connected. Under our clothes, we hide the same bodies, the same memories and the same absences.

It hasn't been a smooth transition into human life for all of us. Those of us with families had to move them into witness protection. Lý's family made it clear they still did not accept her, not only for her past 'sins,' but also for her 'unnatural body.' Jai — who hadn't contacted his parents in years — found out they were both long dead.

We could have taken turns, telling our stories alone — avoided seeing each other altogether. But that wasn't what any of us needed, especially not while reliving our time at the laboratory. At once it feels like a distant memory and something all too close. I have to tell myself, someday it won't be what defines our lives, but most days "moving on" feels like a pipe dream.

Jai walks out of the office, shakes the hands of both the lawyers and turns to us. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out, and drops his face into his hands, shoulders trembling. Haruko and Jisung jump up to hug him, three arms and one prosthetic wrapped around their friend. The rest of us join them. Hugging in silence in a law firm waiting room. Not free yet.

Oracle cannot define us forever. There's more to life than memories, more than loss. Our lives are ours to live.

|||

"In 2062, a team of scientists from Oracle Laboratories formulated an alloy comprised of technological and synthetically-enhanced biological components. The 'miracle metal' called Adrantine was intended to be a significant step forward in regard to prosthetic implants.

"In 2081, a breakthrough was made. Adrantine was no longer a hypothesis. The government had been, at best, present for its conception, but once it was finalized, after a lengthy debate in court — which was hidden from public knowledge for its duration — the purpose of the miracle metal was diverted into militaristic pursuits concerning the ongoing war between eastern and western nations.

"The government's new purpose for Adrantine were technologically-advanced soldiers. Androids. Cyborgs. The Bionic Warfare and Espionage Initiatives were born. From that point on many barbaric acts were overseen and/or perpetrated by Oracle scientists under orders from personnel stationed high in the government and military.

"There were 18 animal trials and four human trials in the process of bringing these cyborgs to life. All animal test subjects died. 14 humans died. Two were found in the basement of the laboratory in medically-induced comas from which they will never wake.

"Only five are alive to share their experiences. They were treated like machines, their humanity was erased. Cut off from all outside influences, they were forced to undergo memory erasure procedures, and fed outright lies and propaganda to foster patriotism.

"Oracle Labs will tell you the subjects signed contracts consenting to be part of the trials upon their near-deaths. But after inspection of the contracts, we found several omissions that cause concern. The memory erasure clause fails to mention, or even acknowledge, the dissonance between pre- and post-operation consent. There is no warning of the loss of autonomy, and nowhere in these documents does it mention the constant dehumanization and isolation.

"One of the subjects — 25-year-old Haruko Taro — did not even sign a contract. She was a scientist who felt the burden of her actions and conspired to expose the secrets of the laboratory. In turn, she was forcibly kidnapped, rendered unconscious, memories erased and placed in a reanimation pod to become a cyborg.

"Further to Oracle's treatment of traitors and rogues — Lee Minho, 24, was a blue-collar worker and activist, a member of the anti-war organization Peace Universal, who found himself facing preemptive punishment for an exposure plot that never came to fruition. He was shot by paramilitary officers and only survived because an Oracle scientist — Han Jisung, 24 — managed to save him by entering him into the Bionic Warfare Initiative, taking the place of an innocent named Park Ujin. And the other members of Peace Universal? Eight bodies have been found, the rest remain missing.

"But, by all means, Oracle didn't only mistreat its test subjects. After the government seized rights to Adrantine, armed guards were dispatched to watch over the building, at least three per floor. It created a workplace environment described as 'intimidating' and 'prison-like.'

"In order to keep their secrets from getting out, Oracle paid a currently unconfirmed amount of hush money — likely tax dollars — to distributors, municipal workers, and even blue-collar mechanics. Owner of Gravitas Droid Repair, Pi Beomseok, was paid 20 million won to alert Oracle if the escapee Lee Minho visited his shop. He decided to testify against Oracle after his daughter, 6-year-old Sook, begged him to help the person who had shown her kindness.

"Every scientist who left the lab in January's revolt has confirmed that Oracle made them sign nondisclosure agreements and delete all social media. If found to have secret accounts, they were punished by having their pay withheld — which, let the record show, is against the law. It was a known fact that those who worked for the lab were monitored for signs of dissent.

"Even more than the lack of privacy and freedom, the scientists expressed grief over the way Adrantine was handled. As previously stated, they were under the impression it would be used for manufacturing prosthetics, a cause they were passionate about. In addition, they expressed concern over the continued existence of military Adrantine; it has the potential to cause a global environmental crisis, if the cycle of creation and disposal continues without supervision.

"Oracle Labs has always faced intense scrutiny. From animal experimentation to undisclosed annual expenditures — for years protestors were a near-constant presence outside the building. But it seems what was hidden in the shadows was so much worse than even they expected.

"In conclusion, standing before you, Judge and esteemed jury, we humbly ask for your help in supporting the victims of this government-sanctioned abuse, holding Oracle Laboratories accountable, and perhaps ending this unethical, deceptive and dangerous institution once and for all."