The Means

"…and the world won't be ruined."

Sai's mother always finished her almost uplifting speeches with that line. She had always been afraid. War was closing in on the country, terrible and unstoppable. Sai could see the fear in her mothers eyes grow each passing day. The tiredness of being a single mother in such a dangerous time mixed with the sadness of losing her husband to the war, and slowly all Sai would worry about was trying to distract her mother from her hopelessness. She tried her best at school, was helpful around the house, told her mother that everything would surely pass and people would learn to live better— it would just take effort.

The government sent medical teams to every school in the country when the war had been going on for years. They examined every child and teenager in the country, blood, body and mind, and Sai was chosen at the end. She was scared, and told very little; only that this scientific project could benefit the entire world. After hearing the news her mother immediately agreed to it. She grabbed Sai's hand tightly and with tears in her eyes said Sai had been right— there really would be a solution. Sai had smiled, although a little hesitatingly.

Taken to a windowless, sterile facility she didn't know the location of, Sai was subjected to tests. They were normal at first, only a little intrusive. Gradually, though, pain started to intrude into her everyday life, growing in intensity as steadily as in frequency, until finally they lay her on a bed because she couldn't stand, and hooked her up to large machines. Even then they let her mother visit— her proud, sad mother, who looked at her with an odd gleam in her eyes now. There had never been much of a spark in those eyes, but the experiments conducted on her let Sai know that what little light there was, was not for her, but what she meant. Her mother was more scared for the world than for her, even though Sai was being probed and cut and shocked by people with faces hidden by clinical masks. They all looked the same to her. She was terribly alone.

Her mother gave her speeches, saying that this project was so wonderful, so precious—it would unite the world as one, and no one would have to suffer afterwards. 'I'm suffering now' Sai would think, but she would force the thought off her mind because her mother would grip her hand so tight, talk so fervently, that Sai figured her physical pain was little compared to what was to be gained.

As the experiments continued, her mother visited less and less, until one day she walked away from the room, glanced back at Sai briefly, and never returned. By then Sai could tell on her own that no one had forbidden her mother from visiting.

xXx

Some nurses had been kind at the beginning, when the experiments were carried in a higher level of the facility. They talked with Sai, exchanging gossip and news of what was happening outside. They helped her walk around when her legs started failing, and brought her food punctually.

But Sai was moved into the lower levels those nurses were not allowed into. They were replaced by more important doctors; scientists who were focused on their project and not very much on Sai.

Of course, the way her body was deteriorating was part of the procedures. Since it was a revolutionary project, never done before, there were many mistakes. Sai had never felt so bad before— she had been part of the tennis club at her school, had spent a lot of time hanging out with her friends on the outskirts of town and walking back home during the sunset, her steps jumpy and confident because they'd been flirting with some cute boys and laughing about it afterwards.

Now her legs were bound together by bandages, and so feeble and tender it was like there was no bone there. They'd messed up one of her eyes; she had completely lost her right eye and her vision was going blurry in her left. Now there was no one who would talk to her, or laugh with her. Some medics laughed sometimes, but mean laughs that mocked one of their colleagues. They complained about him a lot, but Sai couldn't tell them to shut up because her voice had almost gone too.

One man did show a small amount of concern for the girl's ailing health. He had been one of the first scientists she met; an old guy, serious and distant who never introduced himself, but who kept caring for her during the different stages of the experiment. He made sure she had at least water and clean sheets, and told the others to get out when she needed to sleep. Still, he rarely spoke, and for all the little things he did, Sai knew he was still much more concerned with the project.

Only once did he speak to her. Near the end of it all, he hesitated by the side of her bed, looking her over. Sai briefly noticed a funny-shaped locket peeking from beneath his labcoat, and thought it was odd of someone like him to have such a thing. Then he spoke, "You've been through all of this, yet… you've never complained."

Before she could say something in return (and she could hardly speak anyway), he turned away from her and left.

xXx

When she was first selected there had been other children brought along with her, but they'd been separated and not allowed to speak to one another. Sai never heard from them again, because the scientists had found what they were looking for in her. That was when she met Shin.

He was tall, thin and oddly pale. Sai didn't need any strange tests conducted on her to know he was being dogged by an unpleasant thing. Although he was calm, there was an edge to him that Sai felt could cut. He introduced himself politely and calmly explained what his project was all about.

His project. He was the person who had made what was basically mind-reading possible. Sai could hardly believe he was only a few years older than her. He must be a genius, she figured.

And yet, she liked him. When he sat down by her bed or besides her in the lab, he smiled, unlike the other important scientists who didn't consider her smart enough to have a conversation with.

As the tests continued and things got worse he stayed by her side. At first Sai had figured it was only because he had to supervise everything, but then he started bringing her little things— sweets and chocolates that he would quietly slip into her hand and prompt her to hide away so no one else would know. The soft flavour of chocolate was a small relief and reminder of a normal life because Sai was on a strict diet. By letting her have these kinds of things Shin could have tampering with his own project. Maybe they were so tiny that he knew they wouldn't affect the results, but the way he smiled softly at her and the gleam in his eyes told Sai that the truth was that he didn't care.

The day Sai lost her right eye was the day Shin stayed with her the longest. He held her hand through the pain she was feeling, but unusually tightly. Then he said, "Thank you for enduring so much."

Just as she'd never complained, no one had bothered to thank her.

But that edge she had perceived in him at first never dulled; instead, as the project progressed, it became sharper. It was the one thing Sai couldn't figure out. She wished he would tell her why he was growing angrier, but he kept quiet about it as he worked on a way to let everyone understand others' emotions. At Shin's worst moments Sai found herself unable to tell him anything, because she had lost her voice completely by then.

Shin didn't turn away form Sai. After all, he was the one who had to activate the Glass Cage. In those last moments, with the whole of the scientists present to witness the activation, Sai remembered a dull anger before they sedated her. This was the culmination of an incredible project, but what laid ahead was uncertain and what laid behind was the scattered pieces of her once-normal life.

Before falling asleep Sai heard someone –not Shin– say that the world would finally be fixed. And Sai closed her eyes, hoping they were right… for her sake.

xXx

Sai didn't die, not immediately. She slept for a long time, and when she woke up she couldn't tell where she was, but knew it wasn't the laboratory.

A source of light was to her right—bright, yellow— real light. It was the sun, warming the soft bed she was on. How she'd missed that warmth. But a heavy silence told her something was wrong. Even with her heightened perception, the only sound was the rustle of the trees in the wind; she couldn't perceive the voices or feelings of people, because there was no one around. Everyone had just… stopped.

It turned out that the person who had brought her to that place, wherever it was, was the old man with the strange locket. She couldn't see him but she recognized his voice.

"I'm going to give you an injection. It may help you," he told her. "I'll do my best to help you survive."

Regret and guilt surrounded him; it was harrowing just having him close. He wasn't treating her so he could continue some experiment, but just for her sake.

But Sai knew she wouldn't survive. She was ok with that.

Shortly before she died, the old man sat besides her and finally explained what had happened.

"Everyone is dead, Sai. We ruined the world. I took you away from that place because you're one of the few people left to salvage, and I… I am sorry. We were so enchanted with the idea of an easy solution that we trampled over so many things. We used people— we used you as a means to an uncertain end. I wonder if it was your pain that caused all of this. But it's not your fault— we made you suffer. The very kind of person we hoped would be saved by this project… robed of her life anyway. And for what? Look at this world. In the end there is no one left here to justify the means"

xXx

The old man left her body at the empty hotel. Death, in turn, freed Sai. She could move, see and speak once again. She haunted the hotel for a long time, but eventually a sweet boy came around, carrying the same silly locked she'd seen on a regretful man.