The Spirit Phone Files

Section One: Chapter 1

"Synthesizing blood?" Adam asked, awaiting a quick answer.

"In check." The chemist responded.

Adam, sighing in relief, lazily clicked the fountain pen in his right hand, putting it towards the clip-board and paper in arm. Checking off one less thing to worry about, he walked towards the other expecting lab-hand, hoping that they were ready for his arrival. 

"Synthesizing organs?" He stated to the new attendant in his wake. 

His co-worker, fumbling over the amounts of cluttered scrap pieces and fake human entrails, hastily composed herself to face Adam in a nervous manor. 

"I-in check!" she sputtered.

He stopped in his tracks. 

Taking a minute to see if she really was 'in check,' he suspiciously eyed the assembly of items loosely placed around her. Shifting his gaze towards her nervous composure, the scientist decided to take her word for it. It wasn't his job any way to create the imitation-organs they needed. Shifting the thick-rimmed glasses that resided on the bridge of his nose, he walked away.

Last station to check on, and if this didn't go according to schedule, the old man would have their heads. Maybe literally, he didn't know, and didn't want to find out either. Stepping up to Ryan, one of his most prestigious co-workers, he readily embraced himself for an "out of check," and asked him,

"Synthesizing heart?"

A beat of silence.

"In check." Ryan returned. 

The scientist exhaled a breath of relief, and content with everything going as planned. Giving a silent nod of approval to the person in his line of sight, he lightly scribbled the blue checkmark onto his clipboard. Another sigh of relief.

Good. Everything was alright. 

The comforting silence was soon ripped through by a piercing shriek from a speaker on the ceiling.  

"CHRISTOPHINKER! WING H11, NOW."

Adam could instantly feel every eye in the facility bore into his skin, and nervously shuddered towards the elevator doors to enter the section of the building his boss needed him in. An embarrassed blush was creeping up his pale neck, only making the situation only more embarrassing after showing weakness. That tone of voice was all too familiar, and the pit of dread in his stomach continued to spread in a tauntingly meticulous manor. 

Tucking his clipboard and blue-metallic fountain pen underneath his left arm, he scurried over to the gargantuan doors that were the elevator, and hurriedly pressed the button towards the wing he was called towards, making sure to relish the satisfying click that the button made after entering the elevator. After momentarily being blinded by the intense lighting, (and generic elevator music) he settled on steadying his breath so as not to arise his irritating stuttering habit. 

What had the old man wanted? Everything was going steady with the project he had issued, and no problem or inconvenience has arisen as of late. He knew he shouldn't have been worrying, as the plan was going smoothly, but he couldn't help but feel a stir of anxiety mix into his lungs. And why Wing H11 of all places? Isn't that where Higgs was being kept?

With the silent ping of the elevator signaling the travel was a success, he stepped onto the smooth floors of Wing H11. Adam kept the clipboard held snuggly under his arm, hastily scanning his surroundings for the person that called for him. He spotted a huge line of glass flanking three walls, mimicking a cage for a type of...thing. Nobody seemed to reach his sight except, in the glass cage he saw-