I hear voices in my head

They taunt me

Can't lock them out

Inside my thoughts

They breathe in me

I got my hands in my pockets

Screaming at the walls

Can nobody help me

To escape from it all – Uriah Heep

The large black dog had just been returned to his box. Red blood dripped from his nostrils. His tongue and lips were blue. Yet his sides heaved, desperately trying to refill his lungs. A terrier was in the box next to the large black dog; they shared air holes. The terrier sniffed sadly at the seam between the two boxes. The large black dog opened his eyes and gazed at nothing. But the smell, the smell that wasn't dog came off of him in waves, mixed with fear and pain. Soon, the smell, the bad smell, went away, and was replaced by proper dog smell as the large black dog's breathing became more even. The black dog was the only one who ever smelled liked that. The terrier smelled more like human than anything else, and that high sharp smell that burnt the Corgi's nose. The shaggy dog who shared air holes with the Corgi smelled okay, which was comforting in this big, strange place.

The little Corgi was huddled into the corner of his box, trying to make himself as small as possible so the white coats wouldn't see him. The last time the Corgi was seen and removed from the box, the little dog's head itched terribly for hours. The terrier's head itched too, the Corgi could see. It looked like something was on the terrier's head.

The box itself wasn't exactly bad. It wasn't made like the other box, where he had been before with his dam and whelp-mates. That box was cold and the wind came through the bars. This box was made of all clear something that allowed him to see the other dogs. But he was alone. His dam was gone, and he wanted her back, to find comfort with her and his whelp-mates.

Then the box opened. A white coat. The Corgi began to whimper, anticipating something horrible. But the white coat did not take him out of the box. The white coat petted the Corgi, made him feel safe and happy. And then there was a sharp jab in his scruff.

And the noise started.

It wasn't a noise the Corgi had heard before. It was a low rumble, with spikes of high-pitched wails. The noise grew louder. The dog shivered in fear as the rumble began to roar, and the high-pitched noises grew ever more piercing. The Corgi began to howl in protest, but it only added to the din between his ears. Louder and louder, until the Corgi gave a cry and collapsed.

Silence.

Hey. You. Kid. You okay?

The Corgi's eyes flashed open, and he gave a small whimper.

Kid. Calm down. It's gonna be all right.

Don't give him false hope. He'll probably replace Fang.

Fuck you, Ranger. I'm gonna kill the white coats before they manage to kill me.

Shut up, assholes. What's your name, Kid?

The Corgi whimpered again. What were these noises now? They weren't loud. They were sort of comforting, the way they rumbled in his head. He looked over at the shaggy dog that he thought had been here the longest. The shaggy dog looked at him expectantly. The Corgi wagged his tailless rump and barked.

Not that way, Kid. Use your words.

"Use your words", good one, Blood. Sound like a fucking human, you do.

Shut the fuck up, already, Fang! Think, Kid. You hear how we're talking? We don't bark. Talk in your head.

The Corgi stared at the shaggy dog, the one that the black dog called "Blood." Blood looked encouragingly back at him. Things were forming in the Corgi's mind. He tried to formulate them as the others were doing. Talk . . . in my . . . head? What's talking? Am I doing it?

Holy fuck, it's a talking dog!

Fang, goddammit, I'll kill you myself! You want to be held in the gas until you really do asphyxiate?

Don't you fucking dare go there, Blood.

Ignore him, Kid. His brain cells keep getting fucked up.

Fang began barking and clawing on the Plexiglas. The Corgi shivered with fear. Blood began barking back, yet the one called Ranger sat quietly. The white coats came over.

"What the hell? They just started barking?"

"Looks that way. Why the hell do they want to keep using dogs for, anyway? Shut up, ya dumb dogs!"

"What's up with 417?"

"The Corgi? Looks like he's alert. Better make a note – alert at 17:50 hours. He looks pretty good, actually. Physically, he's doing better than 1138 at this time."

"Well, then, he might be a better candidate. 1138 keeps resisting further tests. And how's 7312 going?"

"Getting stronger everytime. He's up to 4 minutes 37 seconds."

"What the hell is the point of training a dog to hold his breath for longer periods of time?"

"Fuck if I know, just doing my job. Let's go check on the blood labs."

The white coats moved away. The Corgi stopped trembling. The other dogs had stopped barking long ago, but Fang continued to growl, even after the white coats were out of sight. The Corgi looked back at Blood, and attempted to send a thought to him.

Blood? What are the white coats doing to Fang?

They're testing theories of metabolic exhaustion in strength training.

But. . . how? And why?

Fang spoke up. Don't talk about me like I'm not here. And don't butter it up for the Kid. They try to suffocate me with tear gas, to study how I deal with it.

Fang, that's terrible! Why would the white coats do something like that?

Who knows, Kid, they're fucked in the head. What's your name, anyway?

My name?

Yeah, your name, runt. I'm Fang, that's Ranger, and that's Blood. I'm sure as hell not gonna call you 417. Fucking slave name, that is.

I don't have a name. This is all I remember . . . and my dam and whelp-mates. Do you know what the coats did with them? I don't know where they are!

Blood piped up. Sorry, Kid, we don't know what happened to them. Then Blood gave a sigh and said, Remember, Fang? He was barely weaned when he came in. Shit, he was practically still attached to the afterbirth. The coats thought it would be better to start 'em young.

Fang snorted. Yeah. Fuckers.

The Corgi said, I guess you can call me "Kid". That's what you've been calling me, I think. I don't think I like being called "Fucker". That doesn't sound nice.

Fang chortled. Ha! "Kid" it is, then!

Ranger, who had been in some sort of reverie, suddenly spoke. There was the street. A car. A car that came too close, and I ran. Mistress followed me. Loud noise. Blood everywhere. It ran like the river. Red, like the danger. Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up.

Ranger trailed off, and began to sway slightly, back and forth. The other dogs were silent for a moment. Fang put a paw on the Plexiglas that separated them. Ranger?

No. Ranger continued to sway. I'm Poppet.

Ranger, Blood said. Your name is Ranger, Ranger, there is no Poppet. Your name is Ranger!

No. Poppet. She said. Red, danger, red, danger.

Fang suddenly hurled himself at the Plexiglas divider. Shut up, Ranger! Shut up with that shit, now!

Ranger fell silent, then collapsed.

Blood?

Yeah, Fang?

He's getting worse. We have to get him out of here.

Kid was trembling again. What's wrong with him?

Blood sighed. We think he's talking about his owner. Something happened to her. "Poppet" must be the name his owner gave him.

Owner?

You probably didn't have one, Kid, seeing how young you were when you first came. You were probably bred in here. I had an owner, a long time ago. A young man. His name was Jack. Fang had an owner too.

Some owner. Fed me gunpowder and kept beating me up all the time. Got him back, though. And good. But that's how I ended up here. It was either here or the Big Sleep.

The Big Sleep?

Goddammit, Blood, but I hate pups. Always asking so many damn questions.

Like you knew what was up or down when you first got chipped, asshole. You couldn't find your own balls.

At least I got 'em, No-Nuts.

Ranger struggled to his feet. Stop it, you two.

Fang gave a happy bark. Ranger! Welcome back from the dead!

Ranger was breathing hard. It happened again, didn't it, Blood?

Yeah, Ranger, it did. And you were out for a while. We didn't notice when it started.

It has to stop. I have to stop. It itches. Ranger began to shake his head hard. Then he brought up his back paw to scratch at the covering at the top of his head.

Fang began to pace. Ranger, stop it. Don't do that.

But it itches! It hurts! Make it stop! And then Ranger was successful at removing the covering on the top of his head.

And once the top of his head was exposed, Kid could see wires and pieces of metal sticking out, gleaming with colored lights.