Three Blind Mice

Subject 17

Darkness. Silence. Cold.

I curl up to Subject 45 for warmth only to discover he's rigid and unresponsive; an all too common side effect of our treatments here at The Facility. It's always best to never grow too close to your cagemate (a wise lesson told to me by the late Subject 7), but I could never help it. I've had 11 cagemates in my time here, each one of them met this same end. It never gets easier. I quietly mourn his passing and shuffle along the glass wall until I reach the opposite corner.

By my calculations, it's been three days since our Hosts have gathered to test us. Very peculiar behavior, since we all received daily treatment in some aspect. Last time I had seen a Host, they drew some blood (my least favorite procedure they put me through). That night, just before "lights out", they filled our cage with a thick vapor that made my eyes water, and my whiskers twitch. Subject 33 fell asleep faster than I've ever seen him before. It's a shame he never woke up. I miss our chats.

I'm rationing my food as best I can, not certain how long I need to stretch it out before they come to refill me. Fortunately, my water bottle was filled prior to my blood draw, so I have a few more days worth.

It's too dark to see across the large open room, to the cages on the other wall. I wonder how everyone else is fairing? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to get a little worried. I've never been alone this long.

Suddenly, light spills into the room as the main door opens. The ceiling flickers and buzzes with life before everything is bathed in soft illumination. I eagerly stand against the glass, pawing at it in hopes of gaining a Host's attention. But the man who enters the room does not wear the starched white robe of our Hosts. Instead, he wears a navy blue jumpsuit. A ring of keys dangles from his belt, jingling with every step. Instead of a clipboard in his hands, he pushes a large plastic can on wheels.

"What kind of treatment is he going to give us?" I ask myself.

The foreigner makes his way over to the far wall and starts removing the cages from their slots.

"Is he going to transport us to another room?" My questioning falls on Subject 45's deaf ears.

The man in the navy blue jumpsuit rests the cage on the edge of his plastic bin, opens the glass door, and tips all of its contents into the container.

The horror! Subject 8 and Subject 36 slide out in a tidal wave of wood chips and food pellets, as lifeless as Subject 45. Down the line of cages the man goes, systematically emptying each one into his receptacle.

So many Subjects. I can't bear to watch.

He finally makes his way to my cage. I'm so overwhelmed by what I've seen that I just lay against the glass wall, almost paralyzed with greif. He dislodges my cage from the wall and props it against the lip of the large canister. As he pops the first hinge off the top of the door, I look down into the mouth of this thing that is swallowing my fellow Subjects. They've collected at the bottom in this jet black bag that lines the inside. Covered in wooden debris and uneaten pellets, they look almost peaceful in their final slumber.

The second hinge pops free and panic grips me. I am NOT going in there! As soon as the door begins to slide open, I bolt to the far end of the cage and scurry about the chips, hoping to find something, anything, to hold on to. Unfortunately, the floor is metal, and smooth. I can feel the cage getting lifted upward, as everything around me begins sliding to the front opening, spilling onto the remains of my fellow Subjects. My claws scamper as fast as I can make them go, praying to catch on something. I watch as poor Subject 45 silently joins our kin. As I feel myself sliding down, fear grips at me tightly and I let out a shrill squeak!

Without warning, the cage jerks upright, throwing me against the back wall. The man in the navy blue jumpsuit peers in, looking at me with pale astonishment.

"Will you look at that!?" The man in the navy blue jumpsuit exclaimed. "You aren't supposed to be moving around."

What does he mean I'm not 'supposed to be moving around'?

"You must be the luckiest test mouse ever."

I genuinely have no desire to thank him for his compliment. My heart is beating against my ribcage. What are you going to do with me now?!

"I'll just leave you here for now," he answers my question as if on cue. "I'm sure the Doc will love to see you."

The 'Doc'? Who is this person? Is he one of my Hosts?

The man in the navy blue jumpsuit returns the sliding glass door on my cage, relocks it, and slides me back into my spot in the wall before returning to his job of removing the other Subjects from their cages.

I can't watch anymore. I just curl up into a ball against the back wall and try to forget everything I saw.

Even though I keep my eyes tightly closed, I can still hear him removing each cage, snapping each lock, and the sliding sound of wood chips across the smooth metal. I can't help but envision two more bodies joining my kin at the bottom of that awful can.

"Woah!" the man in the navy blue jumpsuit suddenly blurts out, "I found another one! This is totally unexpected."

I race to the glass wall and try to see who he is talking to. Subject 52? Subject 70? I can't quite make out what cage he has. Who are you talking to?

"Subject 99," the man in the navy blue jumpsuit answers my inquiry, "the Doc will surely be interested in you, as well."

And just as he did to my cage, the man in the navy blue jumpsuit closes up Subject 99's cage, and returns it to its spot in the wall.

It doesn't take long for him to finish cleaning the rest of the cages, then he pushes the large container on wheels out the main door, and turns the lights off, leaving me and Subject 99 in the dark.