66. The Scientific Method

Date Written: July 4, 2019

Date Posted: November 13, 2020

Characters: Veneziano

Summary: An underground doctor performs an experiment on her newest test subject under the directives of a shady organization.

Notes:


"Be careful with it," her fellow doctor had told her in no uncertain terms. Although he was no longer assigned on the same task as her, her superior was surprisingly kind and paternal despite their illegal, despicable misdeeds.

It was not lost on her about how ironic and clashing their respective personalities were compared to their jobs.

For one, Dr. [REDACTED] did not like getting her hands dirty.

She was fine with dissection. She lived for autopsies. She even managed to experiment on live animals. However, as much as her employers wished that she would share their enthusiasm for experimentation on humans, she drew a line. She may have been cold and ruthless out in the field, but she was targeting animals! Wild life! There was no way that she would throw away morals!

And yet—

"Don't worry," Dr. [REDACTED] managed to say with a small smile, a tic on her brow. "I just need to withdraw a blood sample, ask a few questions… kind of like any other procedure, ya know?"

Her fellow scientist looked at her, almost cross at her audacity to act like everything was fine, but hey, it was part of the job to not be so empathetic—as ironic as it was.

There was no room for compassion and love in their field of work. For what they were about to do was either going to make or break their careers as men and women of science. If their current subject for experimentation had proven, there was potential to be had from such findings.

After bidding her superior goodbye, the scientist then briskly walked towards the subject's room. It was there that she noticed that the guards had already been inside, their presence punctuated with grunts and innocent questions that were far too dismissive of the situation that they were in. Honestly, it was too eerie for the young man—thing—to be so… to be so damn dismissive of everything.

She shook her head.

No need to think about that now. After all, she was no psychologist and if she was, she wouldn't have been present in the first place.

Once Dr. [REDACTED] managed to make her way inside the room, the guards nodded back at her and marched outside. Before, they were allowed to be present for her everyday observation, but after a while, she requested to be alone. It was eerie when everything was silent and with her… subject, she needed him to respond to her. If she didn't… Well, she didn't want to think about that.

She set up shop by pulling in the stool that rested near the door and then sat on it. To anyone else, she would have looked like a psychiatrist. Ha, that was not her chosen profession. If she was, she would definitely have a more emotional, compassionate response to the plight that the subject was in.

She drew breath and after murmuring a greeting, it spoke.

"I could come out of those cuffs any time," the—young man—thing said. He was lounging on the pure white cot that was situated on the far left corner of a glorified cell. Before he had arrived in their care, he had been awash in dark colors and pricy fabrics, which some might have thought made him devilishly handsome. Now, he was only swathed in a plain white hospital gown. The only color in such a blank palette was the auburn hair.

Dr. [REDACTED] did not answer.

She merely pointed at the far wall. It was a signal that had the—young man—thing face the wall with his hands clasped behind his back. He was in parade stance, the doctor noted as she placed a special set of handcuffs on his wrists.

His wrists were strong and sturdy.

Her seniors had warned her that no matter how much time elapsed, the—young man—thing didn't have to survive upon good or water. A few days ago, some of her colleagues broached the idea of regeneration. If this… thing could withstand long periods without sustenance, then perhaps this might affect the healing rate.

Dr. [REDACTED] had kept silent during the debate.

"Doctor, are you feeling unwell?" The thing, after testing the tightness of his shackles, turned to face her. With resolute conviction, the scientist had opted to blatantly ignore his attempts at friendship. Her colleagues who had worked closely with this specimen had warned her of his verbosity. "If you would like, I can make a refreshing bowl of—"

Throughout his nonsensical ramblings, the scientist motioned for him to follow her. As they passed the door that led to his cell, they were greeted by two burly guards. They were assigned so that while the doctor would be at front of the party, the guards would flank the thing's sides.

It was all a precaution: should the test subject act out, both guards were instructed to take down the specimen at all costs. Even when the guards lumbered beside the test subject; it continued to speak about his favorite foods, sports, the weather… By God's green earth, did it ever stop talking?

Perhaps if a muzzle were placed on his face, she would have been more at ease with her job, but he just didn't quit reminding them—her—that even though it was just something—a means to an end—he was still wearing the suit of a human being. For all intents and purposes, they classified him as such because they didn't know what else to categorize him.

Finally, after reaching the laboratory, the scientist signaled for the guards to lead the subject onto the gurney. Sensing that what was awaiting him to be somewhat terrible, the subject looked to her, his eyes filling with unshed tears and questions in his eyes. There was no betrayal present.

He had already known that this was going to happen.

It's just that the both of them hadn't realized that she would be doing so without hesitation or remorse.

Still, something licked at her insides like oozing cold water spilling down her spine.

Her words, smooth and unflinching, were just as cold as the tip of the icebergs that stood still as stone in the North Pole. "Onto the gurney—" She read off his ID number with the practiced ease of someone who had been far too accepting of all of the misdeeds that she had voluntarily had done to poor, unsuspecting—

She bit her lip and watched in mild fascination as the thing slowly sat down, as if the act of doing so had pained him.

To be frank, it sort of pained her as well.

As the guards buckled and strapped the subject in, she happened to catch his eye. Without much prompting, the guards left, she approached and—

"I forgive you, you know?" A bit startled at his sudden admission, Dr. [REDACTED] looked to him, a little uneasy and terrified of what he was going to say next.

"I've faced humans far more terrifying than you, events and catastrophes that would have you cowering to your knees." Within his eyes, the researcher could see how he looked at her. It was… inhuman, terrifyingly different and other than her.

Yet—

"I forgive you, cara." He smiled and didn't flinch as she prodded one of his veins with a syringe. "Did you know that you have such beautiful eyes? Like diamonds they are."

Within seconds, he fell into a sleep.

As for Dr. [REDACTED], she could only pray to whatever deity she happened to believe in that this… this young man would make it out alive.