Sitting in the silence of my cell, I had thought about how the tests had altered me. When I had calmed down and thought about my actions on the table, biting the scientist, I was horrified by my immediate response to him. Never in my wildest ideas would I think to randomly bite someone who was treating wounds. But I had. The recorded screams had changed my mind drastically. I no longer had the burning ball of hot nails in my belly. I was able to notice differences in my body.
I had not eaten in four days. I had sipped on the water, but I had been unable to touch the unappetizing meals. My eyes adjusted very quickly to light and dark, and I was able to see details that I had never been able to see before. My eyesight had gotten so impressive that I was even able to see the freckles on the face of the furthest experiment in my field of vision.
My hearing was more sensitive but my sense of touch had become dull.
Each test was supposed to alter the strength of a human, or make them able to do certain things. I was unsure what tests I had undergone, but I knew that they did not have the usual effects on me, just as they had not had the usual effects on Dana. I had spent hours mulling over how each test had altered me, contemplating what would happen next.
Once every major portion of my body had been hit with pipes, I was moved to the table and strapped down, naked.
What did he say about the fifth test?
The guards left, telling the T-Team that they would stand guard outside the door to be sure that we were not disturbed.
That had never happened before.
“Alright, let’s get started,” the leader said, pulling on surgical gloves and putting on a mask. “Go ahead and start playing the song.”
Oh, great…
The first thing I noticed when the song started playing was that the table they were working from had a huge case on it, and when the top was opened, I could see twenty vials of yellow liquid. This was going to be a long test, dragged on for days and days, probably…
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to prepare myself.
There was a small slice in my leg that puzzled me. I opened my eyes, looking up at the lights surrounding the table, confused and unsure of the purpose of the incision.
And then it happened.
A cold, metal chain entered my body. Or, at least the first link did. Near my ankle, it felt like something smooth and cold slipped around my bones, growing on its own, carefully encircling each component of my ankle. Whether those components were bones or muscles or even nerves, I was not sure. I found the feeling creeping upward, growing link after link to the chain, circling my leg and reaching my knee, where it stopped.
“Five, four, three, two, one…” the leader counted.
Something else cold pressed to the incision and worked like a magnet, ripping the chain out of my body—and everything attached to it—in one sharp, overwhelming motion. I could not stop the scream that tore out of my throat. My back arched and my body convulsed at the feeling. It was like my leg had been turned inside out, the muscles and veins exposed to the world, waiting to be sliced away.
Three times, my leg was turned inside out, ripped and stripped, tanned and shaved of everything that made it my leg.
By the end of the third time, the pain was so intense, my brain blocked it.
I lost track of how many times the song had played as my leg was being turned around, and I was sure I would never know how long the track played.
A pressure fastened itself around my upper thigh. I flinched, wondering if the T-Team was going to turn the upper part of my thigh inside out as well.
They did.
It started with the small incision near my knee, and then the first link slowly began to move up my leg, surrounding all major functions of the limb. The anticipation grew in me. Once again, the chain was ripped out through the same incision, turning my insides to the world.
My vision turned white from the pain and my back arched.
Three times this happened.
Two incisions were made in my abdomen, just above my hip bones. I began to get nauseous. First, the right side felt the chain wrap around my stomach, over my organs, pulling everything into a tight hold, ready to rip free of the cavity of my body and bring the gore to the outside for everyone to see. I shivered, feeling the chain climb past my belly and over the right side of my ribcage, wrapping three or four times around each rib, and hitting the sternum before finding my collarbone. There was something pushing into my neck, something that kept the chains from going further up, so they moved to the left. Wrapping down my collarbone before starting their journey down the other side of my ribs, coiling and snaking around like a thousand metal serpents. They grabbed at the lower floating ribs, moving in and out of the folds of my intestines, heading to my left hip.
It was eternity that they were wrapping around my body. I tried to stop the ropes and chains, or even just slow them down. They would rip my entire body open once they had everything in their grip. I tried to will my body to fight back, but it refused, allowing the chains to move over every internal function.
When the countdown happened, I was ready to scream.
What I was not ready for was the inability to do so.
The two magnets were placed at the two openings above my hips and the chains pulled sharply on everything, ripping my ribs apart, grabbing my lungs and esophagus, pulling them apart and squeezing them through each small incision on my body.
I was unable to scream. I no longer had lungs. I was dying, I was going to suffocate, my body would be unable to function without my heart. My esophagus was no longer there to carry air to my throat to scream. Every organ was gone.
And my brain was trying desperately to process, trying to understand how to breathe without lungs, how to pump blood without a heart…
Every part of me was disoriented when the process happened two more times.
The scream would not come out. My vision was starting to go black. I was dying. There was a loss of feeling in my leg, a cold creeping feeling that was starting to work its way from my ankle, encompassing my foot, and moving up toward my knee.
There were so many sensations going on that my brain finally decided to shut off.
There was still pain, intense and spiraling that moved over my body, starting at my right arm before going to my neck.
When my neck was skinned and emptied of nerves and bones, I was sure my brain had been torn out as well. Everything was overwhelming. My vision was gone, I could not hear, and I could not feel the incisions, unable to tell when they were going to turn my body inside out.
After completing the horrible process on my other side, I was waiting for death to claim me each passing second.
I could not see, I could not hear, but there was sporadic and unexplainable pain that tore through me. That was the only proof I was not dead.
My realization that I was not dead was also proof of my continued existence.
Then, there was silence and stillness for eternity. I wondered if the song was still on, if the scientists were still in the room, if I had finally slipped into the hands of death…
Then, it started all over again.
Only this time, I was laying on my belly. My spinal cord was ripped open and the nerves were yanked out by my tailbone.
This happened over and over and over again…
I would have begged for death, but there was nothing I could say. I had no lungs, no breath to cry for help or scream in pain…
I was empty. I was not even sure how my skin was still on my bones. I was sure that even my bones had been stripped, the marrow gone, leaving nothing but brittle calcium ready to be smashed.
Again, I was left for an eternity.
I was dead.
This was death…
It wasn’t as bad as I had come to believe from watching all those people die. It was quieter, darker. The only complaint I had was that it was cold.
Then, a flicker of something.
In what I thought was my leg, there was a fl
icker.
Right there! There it was again!
Was something…growing?
Muscles began to twitch, forming and growing but not in an organic way. It felt like a craftsman pouring molten metal into a mold to make a statue. The molten silver moved through my ankle, forming a muscle around my leg in the same position as the old one. Then it wrapped around my knee joint, forming tissues and cartilage. My leg was growing back, throwing new connections to my brain, reminding it of its purpose to move my limbs.
And then it moved through my hip, molding around the area where my intestines and stomach used to be, cooling as the rest of the liquid spread upward, falling into place around where the ribs used to protect my chest, forming malleable metal lungs and a heart that slowly began to pulse.
My breath began to come back as my throat was rediscovered and my collarbones put back into place. My arms were reset, strong, yet still so small. I could have sworn I had more muscle than that…
And there was a feeling of pressure as I was turned back on my stomach and the same metal reformed my back. The liquid moved up my spine, hardening in the mold of my spinal cord and carefully reforming the shoulder blades.
I was whole.
But I was still unable to see or hear.
I felt the metal cool under my skin, felt the way my brain sent test fires to the parts of my body, causing them to jolt in response.
Eventually, red was noticed behind my eyelids and my brain reacted violently, eager to see again, pulling at me to open my eyes.
I finally did.
My hearing following shortly after and I heard a constant snapping that bombarded my eardrums and caused me to flinch.
“And auditory is back,” the leader’s voice declared. He had been a smoker for about sixteen years. I could tell. The way his voice moved out of his throat suggested sixteen years—maybe sixteen and a half years—of tobacco abuse.
“Finally, damn,” another groaned. He had never smoked. I was surprised, remembering the cigarettes that had passed between the members of the T-Team after they had sold me to that guard…what was his name?
“We’re not done, yet,” the one I had bitten said shortly. Ooh…he had been smoking for years and years, at least thirty, by the sound that pushed out of his throat.
They moved my right leg, lifting it and bending it at the knee. It should have hurt to have the metal pinching and grinding against itself, but there was no pain. Just intense relief as the metal morphed into muscle, or some combination of the two…it was hard to tell.
My arms were stretched and then the scientists rolled me up and allowed me to lay back down before telling me to stand and perform basic tasks, like counting with my fingers, standing on one foot, touching my nose…They took their hammers and checked my reflexes, they shined a light in my eyes, telling me to watch their finger…
I performed perfectly.
And they allowed me to dress as my final test of dexterity.
I had perfect balance.
As I was being guided back to my cell, the scientists began groaning, talking about how no test should ever be allowed to take four days.
Four days?
I was left in my cell, completely alone with a brand new body that felt familiar and yet so completely foreign that I knew I would have to get used to it, like a newborn taking their first steps.
* *** *
My first steps came in leaps and bounds. I found strength that I had never known before. I did laps around my cell without breaking a sweat or running out of breath. My muscles didn’t cramp, nor did I tremble or shake from weariness. Rather than be thrilled about my new abilities, I felt even more restless.
I tried various balancing exercises, constantly falling, though I was never hurt, and then trying again until I was able to stand on the half wall and lean backward, put my hands on the edge of the toilet, flip my feet to touch the other wall and walk down to stand.
Food was fascinating. I could see every hole in the composition of the bread and the fibers that bound together to make up the crust. I studied bread for hours, intrigued.
Finally, I dared to take a bite, but the food turned to ash in my mouth and I spit it out, vowing never to eat again.
I was left alone with nothing to do but learn about my new body and think.
Fourteen meals passed, and there was no moment I was not thinking about the leader of the Commission of the People.
That grace and elegance he had when he moved, the perfect posture and balance that he exhibited in his stance…it all made sense. Not only did I understand it, I knew I felt almost the same. I longed to see him again to compare how we moved, how we commanded this body of metal and flesh.
My brain was also operating differently. I registered every movement around me. Every yawn, every itch, my attention was immediately brought to it, like it was some sort of beacon. I thought it would get exhausting and tried to ignore the need to document every twitch, but it was enthralling. After a while, I was able to predict many of the mundane moves of the other experiments. I had gotten to know so many of them in ways I had never thought possible just by observation.
I knew how each one of them felt about the testing they were going through, how everyone viewed those who brought them food, and it was completely obvious when they were bringing Eyna out by the way everyone coward in corners, trying to look away from the strongest experiment.
I watched Eyna pass in front of me, drugged, with a newfound fascination and appreciation.
He was even more beautiful than I remembered.
I understood why Dana loved him so much.
I tried to imagine what else Dana could do that I would learn as time progressed. I thought about how he formed around people, how he could control their desires…I wanted to watch, eager to learn how I could do the same.
I had some plans for my T-Team.
Dana occupied my thoughts entirely. It felt like years since I had seen him. How long had I been down in the Commission, anyway? It had been long enough that even the testing seemed mundane.
Ironic. Excruciating agony had become boring.
Every now and then, my muscles would twitch and ache as though I was going through a growth spurt, and with those small pains, concern of higher levels of agony came instinctively. However, there was no more fear.
What was the point of fear?
It had been a long time since I saw my A-Group scientists. When I saw Tamara and Barry, I was surprised to find that I recognized them. I never really had a chance to look at the T-Team through the last round of testing, and seeing faces that registered in my brain was a shock to my system.
Everything about their appearance was more acute, stronger in a way and, yet, so very weak.
Nothing about them caught my attention other than the fact that I recognized them.
But their recognition came with annoyance as I rolled my eyes. I knew exactly what those people could throw at me.
It was going to be another boring day.
As I walked to the lab with them, my eyes focused on the way Jamie’s ass moved under her lab coat—it sort of swayed side to side, but she really did not have a round butt. It was more of a circle that just shifted ever so slightly without any definition. What did Dana see in her body that compelled him to have her occasionally? I recalled vague memories of a distant time when Dana’s touch used to spark something overwhelming through my whole system.
What had that power been?
What did Dana’s eyes look like now that my vision had improved? Would I be able to see any flaws in the amazing golden color or the face that held the brilliant eyes?
There were so many questions about the man who had ordered the tests on me. I was beginning to think of him as a mythological creature that I needed to seek out. He was so far from my recent memory, I was beginning to wonder if I had dreamt him up in one of my many hallucinations.
I was placed on the table. Before they went to any testing, talking among themselves about Barr
y’s recent trip to the Western Region, they checked my reflexes, moving my arms and legs and looking for any sign I was in pain.
I was bored, waiting for anything to break the routine.
Amazingly, something did.
“Hey, Jamie,” a voice called as the door opened. Everyone jumped in surprise and turned to the newcomer, except for me. I had heard him walking to the door before he entered the lab.
“Vince…” Jamie blinked. “I thought this was your sleep block…”
“It is,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “We got a problem with Goliath.”
“Goliath?” she gasped. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s complaining about his back again,” Vince sighed, rubbing his eyes. “My new fucking intern came to me all frantic because he was in pain, so here I am.” He jerked his thumb out the door. “He’s your project.”
“Watch her,” Jamie told Vince, pointing at me as I watched the interaction play out. “Barry, grab the bag.” The appointed man went to a shelf and pulled out a black bag that looked like the cases doctors carried in old movies for house calls. I almost laughed at the sight of it.
“Fine, you want me to take her back to her cell?”
“No, just leave her,” Tamara said as they moved to leave.
“Fuck that, I want to sleep.”
“Fine, you fucking baby,” Barry growled. “Just sleep in here. She’s not going to do anything. She’s been pretty well broken by Greg and his team.”
“Great,” Vince groaned, walking in further and sitting at one of the chairs at the corner table, glaring. “Like I want to be stuck in here with you, you little psychopath.”
I listened to the words come out of his mouth as an observer rather than the subject of his anger.
I watched him, remaining still as a statue. I was not even sure that I was breathing.
I wondered where Dana was. Was he in the Commission? It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, so there was no way to determine the probability that he was there.
I watched Vince look around the room, trying to avoid eye contact as I watched him. He was tired. I could see that through his whole frame. His eyes slowly closed and he fought sleep for as long as he could, but every time his head dipped forward and came back up, like a bird drinking water, I saw sleep claim him more and more. Finally, his head didn’t rise.
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