I Remember

6. Day of tragedy

I wake up to the soothing sound of low voices and the pleasant pressure of a warm hat. I wonder if this is a dream, and cling to the pleasure of that thick, half-awake fancy. It's strange, but the vague chaos fits well within my mind.

The detachment doesn't last forever. It doesn't take long for the conversations to come into focus and the hat to become a metal device fastened about my head. I can feel my heart resume its frantic pounding within my chest.

As my hold upon the real world solidifies, I force myself to take in my surroundings. My eyes are blurry when I open them, but I blink rapidly until the film is banished. Following behind like a loyal pet, my ears simultaneously tune in to the world.

Everything is white and sterile. From the walls to the people to the words in the air, I'm worried that I'll be blinded and deafened by the somber desolation. There's a silver table full of tools set off to the side, a cluster of conversing scientists before me, a small screen stationed just where I can see it on the left, and the hum of machines placed somewhere behind me. My head can't turn, and my arms and legs are bound to the chair I'm sitting in.

All of this puts a sorry flavor in my mouth. I wish that I could go back to my tranquilized sleep.

"Oh, good! You're awake." One of the scientists takes notice of me, and their heads all turn in unison. Three pairs of hawk-like eyes jab into my defenseless flesh. There's a tall man with dark hair, defined cheekbones, and glasses; a large woman with dark skin and a soft, pleasant expression; and an ancient skeleton of a lady that looks as fearsome as a warrior upon the battlefield, her glare a piercing volley of arrows. As a unit, they move forward.

"Let me go." I speak up boldly, but my words are leaden and dusty within my mouth. I wet my tongue, then try again. "Let me go. I no longer agree to take any part in this experiment."

It's said that eyes are the windows to the soul. As the three of them continue to stare at me, I see little to nothing there.

"Please?" Maybe that's the magic word. I test my luck with manners, just in case it's the key to escaping the situation.

"I know you're frightened, but don't worry." The younger female scientist has a soothing voice to match her face. If it wasn't for the hard masks worn by her companions, I might have been somewhat appeased.

Out of the trio, she was the only one I'd chance meeting in a dark alley with at night. Which, considering my options, wasn't saying too much.

"You don't have my permission to do this," I challenge, pulling uselessly against my restraints. They remain firm. I vainly attempt to keep the fear out of my voice. "I didn't sign anything. I'm not legally bound."

The scientists ignore me. Instead, they acknowledge each other with a nod, then move off to their respective positions about me. I can't see the one with glasses by my peripheral vision, but I can hear him typing on a keyboard off to my right. The old lady retrieves a box from the silver medical table and hands it over to the other woman, who immediately kneels beside me and begins attaching what looks like an oversized glove to my right hand.

"Harvey West," the old scientist greets me coolly. She slides her withered hands into the pocket of her lab coat. One of them reemerges with a gun, finger already curling over the trigger as she lazily aims it towards my chest. "Would you rather I eliminate your day completely?"

Looking down the barrel of a gun is altogether different than being threatened by words. I hear beeping, and I know that something is measuring my heart rate, marking its increase in speed. With how fast my heart is racing, it'll be a wonder if I don't break that machine. "That's . . . that's murder," I breathe.