Subject 23

At one point, from somewhere in the deepest pits of the night, I heard a scream.

It had sounded far away, like in a dream, or a memory. It hadn't been very loud, but it had been just loud enough to wake me. I sat up and peered anxiously around my cramped room. It was dim, save for the funny bluish-green light that hung over the door to the bathroom. I frowned, trying desperately to hear the scream again.

None came.

I waited a moment longer before lying back down and pulling the stiff white sheets up over my head.

Perhaps it really had been just a dream.

"I'll do it."

Dr. Vidic did not attempt to hide his delight at my answer, and just about looked like he was going to spill his piping-hot coffee on himself when he cheered and thanked me for making the decision to contribute to his research. I tuned out most of his speech on how this research would benefit all of mankind; instead, I focused on his wide grin full of coffee-stained teeth. He reminded me of a crocodile.

"But, I'll do it for a price."

That caught his attention, and his speech was abruptly brought to a halt as the delighted expression vanished from his face. A part of me, the smarter part of me, knew that this was a crocodile talking to me, and not a man. I figured if I told him he had to pay me in order to participate in his experiment, he'd send me home.

He stroked the rim of his coffee mug with the tip of a finger.

"Name your price."

I froze.

I really had not anticipated him to actually pay me. If anything, I had expected him to be an old scrooge and send me home before putting even a penny in my hand. I had not really wanted to come out and just say no, that I was terrified of his research, because I knew they would attempt to convince me to do it, anyway. I just couldn't say no. My father had always told me I was too nice for my own good, and I could now see what he was saying.

But the idea that he would actually pay me, and he was allowing me to name the price, was tempting. I couldn't help but think it was a test of sorts. If I went named too high a price, he would decline and I would be free to go. If I named too low a price, then it would be too late to negotiate.

Or, perhaps he genuinely wasn't a mad scientist bent on world domination, and genuinely did want to pay me to help him with his research. Perhaps his research was just that important.

If I had to name something, I might as well take the safer route and go as high as I could. I said the first thing that flew to my mind.

"Abstergo pays the final semester of my graduate studies and all my student loans."

"Done."

I blinked. I had really not expected him to accept that price. My legs began to tremble, and I had to sit on the bed to regain my composer. I had just been given a chance to not ever have to worry about being in debt for the next fifteen years of my life, and all I had to do was sit in a table and watch movies. I could do that. To finish graduate school for free? Of course I could do that…

"Are you still interested, Miss Clarendon?" Dr. Vidic pried. He was still circling the rim of his coffee mug with his finger.

I glanced up at him, "Oh, yes, of course. I just had not expected you to…"

"Did I not tell you last night, Miss Clarendon, that Abstergo Industries strives for brighter futures and better tomorrows? If that means paying for the education of an up-and-coming psychologist as yourself, then so be it."

The frankness in his voice caught me off guard. Something about his eagerness to pay me thousands of dollars, simply because I had asked him to, did not rub me the right way. He was too eager, too enthusiastic. Perhaps this was dangerous, and he knew I wouldn't make it; then he wouldn't have to pay me.

But he was a scientist, and twice so far, he had told me of Abstergo's attempts at bigger, brighter futures in the exact same manner; he hadn't stumbled at all. That had to mean something, right?

Only that he's a sleaze ball and is probably lying to you.

I pushed the thought away and stood up to stretch. I couldn't forget the fact that, if I went through with this, I would never have to worry about my college expenses ever again. And I could not pass that up.

"Of course," I nodded at him. "Let's get started."

"Most excellent, most excellent," he turned to the little keypad on the wall by the air-lock door and pressed a series of buttons. I heard the little box beep before a voice came up.

"Yep?"

"Mr. Morgan! It's Dr. Vidic. Miss Clarendon has agreed to participate in our research," he took a slurp of his coffee, and I heard Ritchie mutter a couple of words of encouragement before saying that he would be right there. In a matter of moments, the door to my room slid open and he walked in, holding a folded sheet and a small, flat box between his hands.

"Good morning, Naomi," Ritchie greeted, placing the sheet and the box on the end of my bed.

"Good morning."

"So I hear you're going to participate in our research?"

"You heard right."

"Awesome," he smiled, "Do you remember how we talked about you using too many portions of your brain last night?" He asked. I nodded carefully, "Well, in order to prevent that from happening again, we're going to need you to wear these."

I didn't like the sound of that. He gestured toward the sheet and the box. Confused, I picked them up.

"You will need to wear the choker in the box in order to prevent your brain from using charging too many ions. Each end of the choker is polarized, which should prevent an overload of too many ions in your brain. Think of it like a buffer for radiation."

This was most certainly not a field I was familiar with, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. I opened the box. The choker inside was more like a thin metal wire with a large silver ball at either end. It easily fit around my neck comfortably.

What I had thought was a sheet was actually just a standard hospital gown. Luckily for me, it didn't tie in the back, so all I had to do was slip it on over my head. This was a good thing; now I didn't need to worry about Ritchie or Dr. Vidic looking at my ass as I walked around the lab. I changed in the bathroom, leaving my over-sized t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks in a nice, folded pile on the empty countertop. The tile floor was awfully cold beneath my feet, making a shiver of goosebumps race up my spine. As I walked back out into my room, I couldn't help but get the feeling that Ritchie was staring at me when I wasn't looking.

"Right this way," Dr. Vidic beamed at me with his coffee-stained teeth, and gestured through the door leading out into the lab.

Subject Seventeen's door was unlocked as we walked by, but it was closed. I watched the glowing green threshold above the doorway, nearly bumping into the back of Dr. Vidic as he punched in the access code to get into the lab. The door quietly slid open and we continued in.

The lab looked pretty much the same as it had last night, aside from a willowy blond woman tapping away at a computer connected to the original Animus. She wore a pressed white shirt, a black skirt, and a pair of high heels that I knew had to be uncomfortable. A pencil through her hair kept it pulled up into a tight bun. She barely looked at me as I walked by.

A young man was laying on the Animus. He had very, very short dark hair and a very olive complexion. I would have ventured to guess his eyes were brown, but he was they were shut, so I couldn't tell. A flat stretch of fiber glass arched over his face, casting it in a strange blue glow, much like a television when all the lights were out.

"Miss Clarendon, I'd like for you to meet my other assistant, Lucy Stillman. Lucy, this is Subject 23."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I told myself that it was probably not a good thing that there were six subjects between Subject Seventeen and myself. Where had they all gone? Perhaps "23" was just a misnomer. There was probably some kind of patent war going on that I did not know about.

Lucy cast a sideways look at me and nodded, "It's nice to meet you, Subject 23. Naomi, right?" Her tone was soft and light, almost playful. I liked her already.

I nodded, smiling at her. She didn't say anything else, just flashed the tiniest hint of a smile at me and went back to tapping away at her computer. Dr. Vidic cleared his throat in a way which sounded like a warning, and Ritchie touch my shoulder. We continued across the lab.

When Dr. Vidic was sure that Ritchie was setting things up, he disappeared behind a computer at the head of the lab. I pointed over to the young man in the Animus, and looked at Ritchie, "What's that over his face?"

"Oh, it's just the memory screen. Think of it like an LCD screen for a laptop, a computer, or television. Only this is a thousand times better, and more realistic-looking. It's what we use to record and the collect the memories."

How odd.

"Will I have one, too?"

"Yeah, you will."

"How does he keep from bumping his head on it?"

Ritchie chuckled at me, "As soon as the memory has ended, it slides away so you can just sit up."

Dr. Vidic walked back over from his computer and handed Ritchie a piece of paper. I couldn't tell what was written on it. Ritchie examined it while Dr. Vidic grinned at me and clapped his hands together, "Now that we have your consent, Miss Clarendon, in which I thank you very much, I will have to explain to you how Animus Mach 6 works, and what you should expect.

"From your DNA, we will be uploading one of your ancestor's memories. The Animus extracts these uploaded memories, and allows you to access them as your ancestor saw them. Did you ever see that movie; oh what was it called… The Final Cut, with Robin Williams?"

"The one where the guy makes movies from the memories of people implanted with memory chips?"

"Yes. That one."

"Oh. I get it now. So it's kind of like that?"

"Exactly. You will be seeing the world through your ancestor's eyes. What he or she saw, what he or she did. Everything will be uploaded onto my computer here," he tapped the top of his min-laptop, "And we will go on from there."

This didn't seem too bad. I got to sit down and watch a movie. I could do that. I did it all the time, when I wasn't studying.

"So all I have to do is lie down?"

"Precisely."

"Whose memories am I going to see?"

Dr. Vidic nodded and touched Ritchie's shoulder, "Can you bring up the file on Subject 23?"

Ritchie fumbled with the laptop for a moment before frowning and shrugging, "The file isn't quite cooperating with me. I forgot her name, but she was born somewhere between 1168 or 1169. We don't have a record as to when she died, as it said that she disappeared sometime around… 1193."

I felt all the blood drain from my face and into my feet. There was a prickly sensation in my toes, "You're sending me back that far? You do realize that was almost a thousand years ago, right?"

"Now you see why we needed someone with extensive knowledge in history," Ritchie smiled, "And don't worry, we're not really 'sending' you anywhere. You're just watching memories. You won't get hurt, you're just going to watch a movie, and we're going to watch it here," Ritchie pointed at his computer.

I hesitated, feeling my skin crawl beneath Dr. Vidic's glare. Sighing, I climbed onto the Animus, careful not to hitch up my hospital gown, and laid down.

The Animus was comfortable. It felt like I was laying in a gigantic version of those comfort gels that my dad puts in his dress shoes to keep them from hurting his feet. It buzzed ever-so-gently beneath me, emitting the smallest hint of a vibration. It was very relaxing, very comforting. I had to fight an overwhelming urge to fall asleep, but it was like I had been given a sedative. My eyes shut before I knew that I had even shut them, and I could hear that fiberglass screen arch over my head. I didn't bother with opening my eyes to look at it.

Can you hear me, Naomi?

I think it was Ritchie's voice that said it, but I wasn't sure. It sounded so far away, like I was slipping into a dream and it was just bouncing off of the last fragments of consciousness.

"No, I feel tired, though. I thought you said it was supposed to be like watching a movie…"

There was chuckling above me, definitely Ritchie, but there was another sound too. A far, far away sound; tapping. Horse hooves, perhaps, or just an over-exaggeration of Ritchie typing on his laptop.

I forced my eyes open to look back at Ritchie, but my vision was suddenly overwhelmed with swirling white and blue mist. I squinted, and then closed my eyes again, feeling my body relax into the comfortable table beneath me. Everything felt limp, listless, save for a curious pulling sensation at my naval.


"You!"

I was aware of something poking me harshly in my side and batted at it. If it was Willow trying to tell me she wanted to play with the laser pointer again, she had another thing coming…

Whatever it was continued to poke me, even harsher this time, and I grunted.

"Oi! You! Get up, Peasant!"

"Willow, not now," I grumbled, rolling away from the poking.

Instead of more poking, I was met with the sound of metal sliding against metal, the unmistakable sound of an unsheathing sword. My eyes flew open, and I looked up.

There was a man standing over me, and he was holding a sword to my back. He wore a maroon tunic and a pair of dingy white pants that were tucked into even dingier black boots. On his head, he wore a crudely-shaped helmet. His sword was pointed just between my eyes, and it glinted in the afternoon sun. I gulped. Had I done something wrong?

"A lowly peasant like you should know not to sleep in one of the King's stables!" he snapped. I frowned. I had been sleeping in a royal stable? But it hadn't looked like anything extravagant…

I quickly scrambled to my feet and raked my fingers through my hair. The point of the sword seemed to follow the space between my eyes as I stood. I stared at it. He glared at me.

"I… I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't know…"

"Well you better in move along, or else you will be without any fingers or toes."

I nodded and bolted away from him in the first direction I faced, which lead me away from the sun and up a hill. I wasn't sure as to where I was going, only that I needed to get away from the guard.

I came upon a small village at the top of the hill. It consisted of a bustling market and a handful of gray clay buildings. A couple of horses were lazily grazing on the shriveled desert grasses in a small enclosure, their coats mottled with dirt and dust. A group of children dressed in what looked like nothing more than dingy potato sacks were running around, laughing loudly. I sighed and sat on a bench against the wall of one of the gray building, waiting for something to happen.

And I waited. And waited.

This was supposed to be like a movie, was it not? Wasn't I supposed to sit back like Robin Williams in that movie and watch my ancestor's life unfold through her own eyes? It was what Dr. Vidic had said, and Ritchie had agreed. So why was I sitting in a desert village waiting for my ancestor to move? To speak? To fetch water, or sew a dress? What was supposed to happen? I frowned in the desert sun, feeling the heat bouncing from my scalp, surely leaving scalp burn. Dark hair or not, my scalp was always the first to burn. Perhaps this ancestor, whom I was supposed to 'be,' was where it had all started from.

My time in the Animus was beginning to go from what sounded very exciting to very boring. I took the time to observe my surroundings while I waited for the memory to kick in. In that time, I learned from listening to conversations between merchants and customers that baskets were selling for ridiculously high prices, and that it was probably going to rain soon. From the other side of the village, I heard what sounded like a yelling merchant chasing after a thief. Apparently, thievery was commonplace here. I supposed it was a good thing that I didn't carry anything of value on me while I was in the Animus.

In the corner of my vision, I noticed a man in a white tunic sit next to me, but I did not look at him. Earlier, I had made the mistake of smiling at a man and what looked like his son, and promptly found myself on the receiving end of a fierce game of medieval 20-questions. Why was a woman such as myself alone, where was my husband, and did I have no respect for Allah for smiling at another woman's man and her son? It was a startling experience, but I was not afraid. This was only a memory. Ritchie had said that I could not really be hurt.

"I really need to wake up," I whispered to myself as quietly as possible, "I don't know what I should be looking for."

It was as if the memory heard me say this that something did happen. Two guards toting their swords came jogging from around the corner of the building where I sat, panting heavily. I recognized their voices as the guards chasing after the thief. The group of children that had been playing in the small field stopped in mid-game to watch them with interest.

"Dammit, he's gone," the first guard grumbled, looking around venomously.

The other guard threw his hands in the air, "He couldn't have gone far. Let's go this way."

The children waited until the guards were completely gone before continuing their game. There were two boys and a girl. The first boy, who looked around six, was holding onto one of the girl's hands. He pulled her along as they ran from the other boy.

"Not to worry, my princess!" the first boy yelled, pulling the girl behind him and drawing a wooden stick that was tucked into a chord wrapped around his waist, "I'll save you from this fiend!"

"Oh no, you will not!" The second boy yelled back, pulling a stick from a similar chord wrapped around his waist, "I shall steal you from this prince, my lady, and make you my wife!"

"Oh help me! Help me! If this monster makes me his wife, he will surely steal my treasure!" She was waving a small pouch in her free hand.

The boys' stick-fighting did not last long before the 'monster' was mercilessly flung –although it rather much resembled a purposeful dive—right into me. I caught the boy quickly in my arms before he could hit his head on the bench. I felt the man next to me jump slightly under the impact. I could hear his friends yelling "Caib! Caib!" as they began running toward us.

"Hey there," I greeted, smiling at him, trying to seem reassuring. The maternal instincts had kicked in. I adjusted him onto his feet, "Are you all right, little guy?"

"I…I…" He looked at me, stunned, with big brown eyes. Large, glassy tears began to slide down his cheeks and he flung himself to the ground, wailing, "Sorry! Sorry! I did not mean to knock into you! I was not looking, and I just fell! Please, do not whip me!"

I stared, confused. His friends stood behind him, cowering together, both watching for my reaction in anticipation. I quickly slid off of the bench and knelt next to the poor boy, rubbing his back.

"Hey, hey, now. Caib? Is that your name? Caib, listen to me. I'm not mad, and I'm not hurt. It's all right. Hey!" I caught his face in my hands, immediately bringing his sobs to a halt, "Caib, look at me. I'm not mad. Stop crying."

He sniffled, "All right."

From behind me, I could hear the man in the white tunic scoff quietly.

I let go of his face and stood up, pulling him to his feet, "Are you all right? Oh, look, you scraped your knee. Let me fix it."

His cowering friends began toward me as I ripped a small portion of my 'dress' away, licked the small scrap of material until it was wet, and wiped at the cut on his knee. He sniffled and repeatedly thanked me as I dabbed the blood away. As he continued to thank me, I realized that he was speaking into me in clear Arabic, and that I had no trouble understanding him. In fact, I was even speaking back to him in Arabic. This confused me at first. I was never taught Arabic. So how would I know how to speak and understand it? Not unless the Animus was translating everything for me...

I smiled at him and tied the scrap of material around his knee.

"There. Good as new."

He smiled and flexed his leg, careful to make sure it was completely working again.

"Thank you."

The little girl spoke to me first, "My name is Naleh," she said proudly. I smiled at her as her friend introduced himself as Kalim.

"Do you want to help us bury Princess Naleh's treasure?" Caib asked, squeezing my hand, "We have to hide it or the King of Thieves will steal it."

"But I thought you were the King of Thieves... weren't you trying to steal the Princess for the treasure?"

Caib shook his head, "Not the real King of Thieves. The real King of Thieves carries real blades," he held up his stick, "These are just made out of wood."

I nodded. It all made sense, I guessed, "Sounds fascinating. What kind of treasure are you burying?"

Naleh held out the little pouch she had been waving around and opened it for me, instructing me to hold my hand out. As I did so, she turned the bag over and dropped what looked like four tiny figurines shaped like animals, and a disc that reminded me of the mirror in a Cover Girl compact foundation kit into my hand. The figurines and the disc looked like they had been cut from some kind of metal, and they were horribly tarnished. I gasped in mock-awe and nodded up at Naleh.

"Of course I'll help bury this magnificent treasure for you!"

The children giggled, and led me over to a large Cyprus tree in the middle of the field, Naleh tugging on one hand and Caib tugging on the other. It was apparent that Kalim was the leader of their group, as he stayed in front of us, his stick no longer a sword but a walking cane.

Just a little while later, Naleh's treasure was buried, and we were walking around the village, enjoying an extra loaf of bread that Kalim's mother couldn't sell in market. The sun was getting ready to set behind the mountains and merchants and traders were packing up their stalls for the night.

"Will we see you tomorrow, Naomi?" Caib asked, touching my hand. I could not help but smile at him; he had insisted in walking next to me and sharing his particular hunk of bread with me, and me only. It was a shame that, in my world, he was probably old enough to be my great-great grandfather four times over. Of course, I wouldn't dare tell him this.

"Of course you will," I said, "Same time, same place?"

The children agreed happily and dispersed after many farewells, leaving me to wander the village by myself. It was a quaint little place, right next to a river bank that I had not noticed before. I wondered where exactly I was now. Egypt? No, certainly not Egypt. Perhaps Jordan? I wasn't sure. I was definitely aware of how much cleaner the sky looked at night and how much cleaner the air smelled. It was certainly a different experience than what it was like in my real time.

I was sure it was not a good thing to run around the desert at night. It was already getting awfully cold, and I had the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. I reached down and pulled the hood of the uncomfortably stiff dress I was wearing up over my head. Initially, I had not known that there was a hood attached to my clothing until Caib thought it would be cute to hide a rock in it and pull the hood over my head, sending the rock down my back. I had to do a little dance to get it to fall to the ground, which all three of the children had enjoyed.

I walked to the edge of the village and came back to the bench that I had been sitting on earlier; it was now empty. A quick glance over my shoulder reassured me that I was alone, and I made to sit down.

Just before I could fully sit, I heard the distinct sound of something dropping heavily to the ground beside me. A pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around my middle and yanked me backward before I could even get a chance to turn around to see what it was. My back hit something solid and warm, a body, and a hand clamped tightly over my mouth; the strength of the grip kept me from turning my head. The tip of something cold and sharp poked against my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

This was not happening. There was no way this was happening.

"Scream, and I will spill your blood before you have a chance to pray to your god to forgive you for your sins."

The voice was low, almost a whisper. It was harsh and cold, despite the hot breath against the side of my face.

"Do I have your word that you will not scream?"

I nodded into the hand, taking in the scent of leather and sandalwood. Whoever it was holding me hostage, he smelled nice. I felt the hand release my mouth, and I was roughly spun around and pushed against wall of the building, the edge of the bench digging into the back of my knees. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. One strong hand squeezed my shoulder tightly as another held a blade to my throat.

"Look at me," he growled. I kept my eyes shut. "Look. At. Me."

Don't, Naomi, I told myself

"For the love of your god, look at me."

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was tall, the top of my head just barely came up to just his chin, and he wore a tapered white robe trimmed in red cloth and brown leather. He wore a draping white hood that nearly covered his entire face, save for his strong, squared jaw line. The top of the hood came down at a point; it reminded me of that of an eagle's beak. One of his hands was pressing my shoulder into the wall. The other hand held a blade, which was actually attached to a metal bracer on his left wrist, to my throat. That blade glinted in the dim light, protruding from under his hand where his left ring finger, which was completely missing, was supposed to be.

I blinked, recognizing his clothing. He had been the same man that had sat next to me on the bench before I had gone to play with the children!

His body pressed roughly against mine, one of his knees digging between my thighs. He kept the blade against my throat, using his forearm to pin me against the wall. With his free hand, he dug into a pouch that hung around his middle. I gulped when he brought his hand up to my face. A tiny pouch dropped from his hand, dangling from horse-hair strings in front of my face. I immediately recognized it as the pouch that Naleh had used to carry around her treasure.

"Take a good look at it, woman," he growled, allowing me a few more moments to study it before quickly pocketing it again, and pressing harder against my body. I fought back a yelp, "Answer me honestly, or I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the swine. What do you know of these trinkets?"