Hypersubjects

by Ainsley Komper

  “I just nodded when they mentioned in front of me that Braith Van Hoy will go to M. Eight. They said that preparations had to be in place.”

  “So, what about it? What is your question?”

  “What the hell does the ‘M” stand for? I mean, I know he will be taken away but why the M?”

  “The M is for Magnificent, you idiot. It is just the way they set up the code names. There are seven around London but now we are adding an eighth because of the amount of people.”

  “Yeah, of course, it makes sense now.”

  Saved by the bell, other agents approached them and Taran was directed to the situation room. They were briefed about another subject out of control but this time at the installations. His name was Lark, and although he was not considered as tough as Braith, he could give them some trouble, the advantage was the control they could have and the disadvantage was that Lark had become the most advanced subject they had besides Braith. He excused himself to go to the toilet but his idea was to use any of the terminals available at the institute. When checking The Magnificent Seven in an online search engine, he got many hits for the movie and its remake. Some of them for a book but then there was one about graveyards in London. There were seven great cemeteries in the London area. They were considered magnificent due to their size, architecture, being the resting place of famous people and the peculiarity of their features. The Magnificent Eight would be an additional cemetery full of the discarded subjects. Mercy and Braith will go there soon and Ciana was getting enlisted for it as well. What about Perkons? And if it was a cemetery, that meant there were many graves already there, all of them subjects like him. For a moment, his knees started to shake so he had to sit. It was not even about Mercy, Braith and Ciana, it was about him. If his predecessor passed away, so would he. Besides, that would mean they have been playing him along for a few months as the person he was chatting with was not even Perkons. In that moment, he got spotted by a colleague who told him there was a crisis upstairs and was needed immediately. They said one of the doctors was kidnapped by a subject and he was taking her somewhere in the building, perhaps looking for an exit route. They all got instructions via their headsets and were split into teams of three. In that moment, when they were all running to different positions in the building, he felt his phone vibrating. It was Ciana, so he pretended to get a different instruction in his feed and left the team.

  “They are after me, I don’t know what they are going to do to me.”

  For a moment, he did not know what to do but when he listened to her at the point of sobbing, he got angry. Suddenly, all his fears about the M. Eight disappeared because he knew what he could do and there was no way he would let them hurt Ciana. He did not care about himself anymore, but on the contrary, she was so weak and fragile and he could not think of anything else but to protect her.

  “Meet me at the open cafeteria, the one with the big skylight.”

  “Alright, there are a few men after me so I have to go slowly.”

  “I am going to try something to help you but then you will have to find me with your… brain. The phones may not work.”

  “Ok, I will find you. Hurry.”

  Taran knew that the open space of the cafeteria was high and at certain times of the day was charged with static from the windows. He may be able to take down one guy but was not sure about two at the same time. When he reached the circular staircases that led down towards the cafeteria, he saw from above how Ciana arrived, followed by two agents. They were coming towards her from two different exits so it was impossible for her to run away and it was not very likely that he could Taser either of them without hurting her. In a desperate attempt, Taran activated his glove and focused on charging the bigger EMP ball with all the energy he could gather. The lights around flickered and in a moment of courage, he threw the ball up in the air to the middle of the cafeteria, thus activating his biggest discharge so far and creating a powerful thunder that sank everything into darkness.

  He was hoping she was able to take this chance to run away from the guys in the darkness, given that she could see them even in the pitch-black obscurity. Taran listened to how they tried to use their flashlights, mobiles and communication devices but everything was dead. With a smile, he left the place proud of being able to pull a mini-EMP off and also hopeful that Ciana could feel him. He walked slowly through the corridors of the building, noticing that his blast had left many parts of the institution without power. He knew that sooner or later they would trace this back to him but these were the same people who killed Perkons, so he was in danger anyway. It would be a matter of time for him to go to the M. Eight. There was no way back now and the only goal was running away with Ciana, maybe going to the police. The darkness had engulfed that side of the building and the wait in the dark turned out to be longer than he expected. Her mind was a mystery to him because whatever she had developed for tracking people was beyond the understanding he had about how the human brain works. Perhaps if he just stayed in one place, still, thinking about her, maybe, she would be able to find him faster, to “feel” him as she referred to that sensation the few times they spoke about it. Most likely, Ciana’s tracking system worked in different ways to a conventional brain so he was just making silly assumptions, however, all of that went away when she whispered his name and then hugged him. It was more incredible than the first time and, in that moment, they shared a kiss in the dark.

  “That was quite impressive what you did over there.”

  “Not as impressive as finding me in the dark.”

  Holding hands, they were going to the corridor towards the parking lot when two armed agents intercepted them. Dr Velia appeared behind them.

  “There you are! I need you both, quickly.”

  Taran did not have enough time to react as they grabbed her.

  “You too, we need you upstairs.”

  At the elevator, Dr Velia told Ciana: “I need you to find Lark, now!”

  “He is going upstairs, towards…”

  “Braith! He is going to his room. We need to stop him.”

  “Too late, he is already there.”

  “We have some men there.”

  “He has just taken them down.”

  “We’ll send more. He cannot hold it forever.”

  It was too risky to make a move in the elevator, plus there were three of them so he decided to wait for the best moment to escape. When they arrived at the corridor, they saw three men on the floor, unconscious. At that moment, two other agents with guns ran inside Braith’s room and after a few seconds filled with shots, one of them was thrown out of the room, breaking the door with him. He landed near the lift, almost at Taran’s feet. The second guy emerged, flying, shortly after the first and was less lucky as he bounced off a wall before falling almost lifeless down to the floor.

  Velia led the pack, talking to Lark who was holding an almost unconscious Braith in his arms.

  “There is no point, you cannot outrun us.” She said to him.

  “I’ll take my chances, thanks for the tip.”

  “Where do you think we get the funding for all of this? The government has been backing us from the very beginning, not only with money but with every resource they have.”

  The idea of escaping seemed futile now to Taran, who felt the whole weight of his recent actions sinking on his shoulders.

  “Hey, stay behind me, this may get messy.” He said, almost whispering to Ciana and smiled at her. She complied his request and gave him a sad smile because she knew that there was no easy way out from this. The government will be after them if they decide to run, the same government who financed the experiment where him and Ciana were merely lab rats. He thought about Perkons, young and lively, full of enthusiasm and energy.

  “You are killing him.” Lark said, referring to Braith’s health.

  “Don’t be naive, we don’t want him dead.” Velia replied.

  “Back off, lady.”

  “More agents
will come. We are alerting intelligence forces as we speak. You don’t have a choice.”

  Braith was wearing a breathing mask and was finally starting to recover. Lark whispered something in his ear.

  “Take them down, now!” Said Dr Velia to Taran. “I know you did it before, you can do it again.”

  Taran activated his glove and Dr Velia moved aside.

  “I need them to back me up.”

  She instructed the agents to support Taran, so they moved behind him while he was gathering energy from the air.

  “You have nowhere to go.” She said to Braith and Lark.

  “Sorry, guys, this is going to hurt.” Taran said.

  The two synesthetes looked perplexed at Taran.

  “I went through this once. It is not funny at all.” Braith said.

  “What the hell is he?” Lark asked.

  The sound of an electrifying blast illuminated the corridor, blinding everyone in it.

  BRAITH

  Life had been an ongoing roulette. Some days, his luck landed on happy winners, but most of the time, he fell into debt that was impossible to pay, so the best option had always been to run away, lay low and enjoy what he could. His father was Dutch but he barely knew him and the string of stepdads his mother made him go through seemed endless, so he ran away. The first time he got caught was a lesson, so he learnt the hard way to be careful with the system. Staying off the grid was of paramount importance if he wanted to keep his freedom, so he took on all sorts of cash-in-hand jobs. Mixing with third-world immigrants was normal, from dodgy construction sites to cannabis urban farming, Braith did it all. He had no ties, no family strings, no next of kin and his only school had been life itself, the tabloids, and the internet. Of course, he understood the importance of knowledge, he just wanted out of his family, he wanted freedom and that was the only life he knew and graduated him with marks in toughness, independence and planning. By the time he was an adult, he was used to that way of living, it was in his DNA. However, despite taking things one day at a time, he had been a man with a plan. When coming of age, he got his GCSEs and the jobs he went through were a bit different without compromising his freedom too much. He quitted each one of them after a while because once he felt trapped in a cage, tied to a system, it was time to leave and he sailed away. His years of manual labour on illegal construction sites developed his strong physique which was already favoured by good genes coming from the height of his Dutch ancestors. Braith was taller than most of the people he had ever met and never had a problem getting sexual favours from the ladies whenever he wanted, wherever he pleased, but neither the exotic varieties nor the collection of English roses he had been with had the power to tame him. Never staying in a city for more than a year, he had lived in many parts of England, Belgium, France and Holland. During this rollercoaster of different jobs, he stumbled upon Clinical trials. It is just like they said: “Once a subject, always a subject”. His first was for a drug to help the lungs cope with some string of asthma. Then came another drug to treat heart arrhythmias, a flu vaccine and many others. By the time he was thirty, he had already worked in most of the companies in the UK, Holland and Switzerland. He honestly loved them and it was something he took as a shelter. The problem was finding a suitable time-frame as he preferred the trials that were for a period of a few weeks and with the least number of follow-up dates. Once in a trial, he felt in a space where he could plan his next move. Over the course of years, he met guys with a similar lifestyle but with different motivations. For some of them, it was an extra income or something to fund a less profitable career. Among them, they shared upcoming trials and also warned each other to stay away from bad facilities or studies. It was during his time in that circle that he learnt about the Institution and a particular program. The money was better than in any place he had seen before but their listing was utterly strange, mainly clinical trials in brain conditions like epilepsy, daltonism, astigmatism and many others, including synesthesia. They did not advertise those studies openly so it made it more intriguing for him and he mostly knew about them from friends of friends, well, from acquaintances of acquaintances who talked about that institution as a legend within the pharmaceutical industry. By that time in his life, he already considered himself a lucky bastard and had the perception that things would happen for a reason. When he came to know about an opening, it was too good to be true because it was linked to what he had always been. From his early years, he noticed that his sense of smell was more developed than for most people, even to the point that it had somehow spread to other parts of his perception. For him, this was normal but then he slowly noticed that some scents caused small flashes of colours in his field of vision. Some of those flashes were strong, while others were less the flash itself but the idea of the colour or combinations of colours. Also, in some cases, and only with certain scents, these impressions did not go to his vision but to his skin. The cross sense was going from smell to colour and sometimes touch. Everything he smelled transcended to leave an additional sensation beyond his nose. According to what he read when he was in his twenties, his had an extremely rare case of Synesthesia because most of them worked from one sense to another, not from one to two. Although it was not a constant process, it grew over the years or perhaps he started to pay more attention to it. The smell of spiced rum made him feel round points all over his skin and if he took a deep inhale of paprika powder, he felt a sensation similar to an invasion of tiny ants scratching him from head to toe. Some others did not trigger anything but colour patterns or flashes. He always thought he would have been good at creating perfumes or developing fragrances but he did not know where to start in that path and felt it was too late. Besides, he felt that his gift was actually his healthy body which did not imply much stress or thinking. When he finally got involved with the institution, he was fascinated with the work over there as it was really cutting-edge technology aimed at something different rather than just making pills to cure headaches. It turned out to be an incredible place where all the attention was focused on him. At the beginning, he took advantage of the free accommodation, but after three months, he started to feel uneasy about the fact of knowing how much control they had over him. They were fascinated with him, and although he was not allowed to interact with other subjects, sometimes he managed to talk to some of them. They always came and went, apparently to similar facilities in other parts of the UK like the ones in Wales, York and one called M8. Initially, they studied a lot of his brain activity, documenting his synesthesia. They wanted to know all the precise reactions taking place in his body and especially in the nervous system. Many MRIs and brain scans were taken, tons of questionnaires filled, countless lab tests performed, interviews recorded and it was all about him and his unique condition. Things started to change after a few months when they revealed that, although he was one of a kind, there had been a lot of research on subjects like him, which meant subjects with either Smell to Colour or Smell to Touch Synesthesia. However, it was the first time they had someone with a combined condition and maybe that was the link missing in the research. During each phase of testing, he dealt with different Doctors who tended to be extremely polite and kind. Unfortunately, they were all managed by a Swiss Executive called Rolf Vogel. There was no chemistry between Braith and Mr Vogel, but they all learnt to tolerate each other. Braith felt his boss was an annoying corporate snake while Rolf considered his star subject a pathetic excuse for a human being, with no moral values or direction, someone to be discarded as soon as he serves his purpose or as soon they find a better subject. Unfortunately for Mr Vogel, this proved to be quite a difficult task because Braith Van Hoy was in fact one of a kind. The second stage of the process was not documenting his condition anymore but experimenting with diverse types of drugs on him. Several teams had planned different ways to use Braith’s uniqueness and only a few of them were allowed to work with him, including Dr Charles Broad. Most of the drugs dosed to Braith did not have any effect on him, exc
ept some headaches and nausea, including the one given by Dr Broad, but he was the only one who learnt from his mistakes and came back for a second round. While the first time, he administered Braith with a powerful chemical mixed in the form a dust to be shaken and inhaled, this time, he added an extra procedure of some drops. Dr Broad said the drops could be dangerous but, ideally, they would stimulate neural activity and nerve sensitivity. He was asked to lay down and his head was to be held still by a special pillowcase. A nurse was in charge of dosing him with three drops per nostril but that part did not worry him. The number of security personnel disguised as nurses was the factor that rang the alarm bells in his head, but it was too late to back down. By the time she started with the second nostril, Braith felt a strong tingle going through his brain. Laying down still and upwards was getting more difficult by the second and when she finished, he could barely contain a scream. The guards struggled to keep him down and they multiplied quickly, replacing the real nurses. It took two men per limb and an additional guard for his head in order to restrain him. Braith was roaring in pain, feeling the tentacles of an invisible spider crawling through his nose, reaching out for his brain and down to the base of his neck. The nine guards could barely contain his energy that seemed to surge continuously. By the time Dr Broad gave the order, Braith had gone through enough pain to regret the months spent at the institution and swore to kill the Doctor himself. When the guards released him, Braith tried to sneeze the liquid tentacles out with no luck. Whatever they were, his body had already absorbed them, leaving behind that feeling impossible to shake off, a scratch carved inside of his skull.