Oriehn

Chapter 1- Alice

Chapter 1- Alice

There was that tune again—the chirp of a mechanical bird.

I hoped that it would mean something different this time, but the weathered cries that followed could never be considered as a positive omen. As I followed the sound into a small white room, a large figure with dirty hands was being dragged off of the table. White-clad soldiers, in a clean white-walled room, carried out a white dressed body.

I couldn't see any blood. It was just an extraction. A note twitters as a ray of light strikes the hands peeking out from under the cloth, lying unclenched, still. No mess to clean. I could convince myself that the person was sleeping, except I knew better. It was just a naïve dream that was easily broken when the doctor carried out a jar.

A fist-sized organ was carried within, and if I looked closely at the cloth, I could see it dip just slightly at the upper middle of the torso, just tilted to the left. The person's heart was clearly missing.

There was a sudden wailing in my head, and I closed my eyes. Standing in front of the mirrored observation windows, I tried to discourage my own heart from growing enough to encourage a rebellion from my body. I exhaled slowly, examining my manicured hands to distract myself from the swaying ones peeking out as the wardens carried the mountain of cloth away.

"Are you taking notes, Miss Proctor?" A baritone voice called from behind me.

I cleared my throat and steeled my mind as I turned in response. "Your methods are very...precise. I am not sure I, or the rebellion in general, have witnessed anything like them."

He gave a wry twist of his mouth, but didn't look up from his clipboard. "That's what a partnership, such as this, is for. Learning new methods." He puckered his brow. "The next subject is a testy one. He wasn't born in the labs like the others, Miss Proctor. Perhaps you wish to take your leave on the next experiment?"

Yes! my mind desperately cried out. I didn't think I could sit and watch another. I cleared my throat to respond with an affirmation. Then I hesitated.

My gut twisted as I wondered if I was already getting used to stomaching the inhumanity for an advantage over the enemy. My mind said no, but my feet refused to move from its place.

"No, of course not, Doctor Prose. I would be happy to witness another experiment. We need to learn how to apply these methods of extraction to decipher their language," I contradicted with a lie.

"It can be a lot to take in, for a new commission," he chuckled, "but if you're positive—"

"Of course I am," I said, echoing it in my thoughts. I had to believe this if I was ever going to act this part. "What is the prerogative of the test?"

"The subject is a celestial—a Venery model—a hunter on his own planet, if you will. We are testing his capacity for strength and endurance, along with his sensory perception faculties," Doctor Prose continued on, though I was only half listening as a predator-like man was lead in by his chains. There were white patches on his bare chest, and pants that were maybe once a matching color, if they had been clean.

The warden grabbed the subject's hair, twisting his neck back. He slit a deep gash into his flesh, revealing a gauge and a port, and plugged in a connecting cord to the side of his neck, despite the fresh blood dripping down his neck.

"What is that?" I questioned.

"The mooring cord. It allows the machine connected to it to report what internal organ processes in the subject are failing," Doctor Prose answered, barely looking at me as he stared intently on the Subject in the room. The warden looked at us, symbolizing that he had finished setting up.