Affliction

Prologue

February 16th, 2033

The lights buzzed and flickered above Dr. Wattson as she stared through the glass in front of her. She had her legs crossed and bounced her foot in anticipation. She held the clipboard in her lap, waiting until it's next use. Dr. Wattson hated these... experiments. But there was nothing else she could do. She needed the money.

She stopped bouncing her foot when the patient in the next room began moving. The straps on the bed tightened and the breathing coming from the poor man became labored. Then came the hacking coughs as he awoke. Dr. Wattson winced at the scratchy sound in his throat. It reminded her of when her mother got sick.

Dr. Wattson cleared her throat before speaking into the microphone. "Mr. Hansen, can you hear me?" She waited a few seconds but got no response. "Mr. Hansen?" She tried once more.

But the man on the strapped bed, beyond the glass had no direct response. It was almost like he were in a trance. He was awake, yes. But that was when Dr. Wattson noticed the glazed look over his eyes, the half-opened mouth, the sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked sick. And then he started whimpering, like he was upset and about to cry.

Dr. Wattson uncrossed her legs and grabbed the clipboard before standing up, walking to the window. She could now see the man closer. His eyes had something dripping from them, but they weren't tears. The man's whimpers got louder.

Unease flooded Dr. Wattson's senses as she pressed the emergency button to the right of the window. It glowed red once pressed. Though, not to Dr. Wattson's surprise, it made no sound. And it hadn't the past 15 times that month she had to press it.

The door to the room opposite of Dr. Wattson swung open and in came two figures clad in yellow hazmat suits, ready to wheel away the dying man. Another trial, another fail.