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Subject #1320

Most of my early memories took place in the lab compound - muffled talking of the scientists outside of my door, the numbing sensation of having blood samples taken from my frail human veins, the irritating buzzing from the highly sensitive technology, or even the sound of Dr. Schole's voice, who was usually asking about my health in her monotone drawl. All parts of a daily routine, which I willingly followed for about 15 years.

I never really questioned this way of living; I knew nothing outside of the compound's walls. And when you're the subject of human experimentation, they don't really let you wander around on your own. Even when walking between the different sectors of the building, I could feel the watchful technological gaze of the many surveillance cameras that dotted the ceilings in the white-walled hallways.

The only place without (visible) cameras watching my every move, was in the central courtyard within the compound; this was my safe place. I was permitted to play in this area after my studies and following extensive "check-ups". It was a square space, about the size of a little park, with two large maple trees on opposite ends of the space, a very shallow, man-made stream with a cobblestone path crossing over it, and a single wooden bench placed right in the middle. This was also the only place I could see natural sunlight - thick, opaque glass covered the top portion of the small area, and allowed filtered rays of thermal energy to enter the courtyard. The scientists saw how much I liked to be "outside", and when it was my 8th birthday, they added a few birds, frogs, and insects to the courtyard to make it seem more realistic.

I was keen to learn about these new additions and I remember asking for a journal to document my discoveries. Dr. Schole laughed at my request, but complied, not thinking too much about my sudden interest in animals. Within a few weeks, however, she was surprised at my request for a second journal and asked to see what I'd written so far. That day, she followed me to the courtyard and watched me as I examined one of the frogs. It made me feel somewhat uncomfortable at first, since this was the only place I could go without the constant supervision of the scientists. Then, Dr. Schole came over to where I was sitting, and began giving me some more information about these courtyard animals - what they ate, where they live, etc. This became a daily thing, where she'd come and visit me, and give me more information about certain animals. After we finished with the animals in the courtyard, she started talking about the plants, rocks, and water, showing me books and illustrations of canyons, forests, natural formations, and so on. She helped me form a picture of the world outside the compound.

I was around 10 years old when I began asking Dr. Schole about life outside of the compound. She was very careful about her choice of words; I could read the caution in her body language, and a strange sadness in her eyes. She talked to me about her 3 boys and how they went to school at a location outside of the compound, but not too far away. I watched her body stiffen and her eyes flicker warily toward my direction, as if she'd said something wrong. I felt my eyes narrow slightly in initial reaction, but I didn't take much heed to the odd nonverbal behavior, forcing a smile on my face.

" What's school like for them?"

Her surprise to my question was very obvious, and the same sadness I noted from before reclaimed her vision. " Two of them really enjoy school, and love to tell me stories of their day. The other one doesn't really care for school, but enjoys playing with his friends on the basketball courts." After a few seconds, she shook her head and looked at me. " When I was younger, I'd always wanted a little girl. But I guess..." she trailed off, reaching over and gently brushing my stray bangs to the side, sweeping them behind my ear. I watched her movements very carefully, but remained still as a statue, with a smile plastered to my face. " ... I guess that wasn't the plan," she said, smiling gently as she withdrew her hand. I noted the water that was starting to gather in the corners of her eyes, and I awkwardly reached out to touch her shoulder. " Your boys are very lucky to have a mother like you," I said in response, slowly rising from my position. She looked at me for a moment, smiled sadly, and nodded in response. Not knowing what else to say, and feeling very unsettled, I turned away from her position and proceeded to walk out the exit, toward the direction of my room. I calmly walked around the corner, and as soon as I was out of view, I quickly hid behind the large, steel-framed door, pressing my ear against the wall.

The crying was almost instantaneous; hysterics loud enough that I was surprised no authorities had been alerted. " Why have we done this?" I heard her voice crack between bouts of weeping. I couldn't make sense of her sadness; however, as soon as the sounds of her crying reached my position, I felt tears well up in my own eyes. Odd... I thought to myself, dabbing at the salty drops quickly with my pale garment sleeve. Dr. Schole's outburst lasted for about a minute, before the sobs grew weaker and her breathing seemed easier.

" I won't do it anymore," she whispered a few moments after the crying subsided. Hearing the shuffle of feet toward my direction, I lowered myself into a crouch, and pressed my slender form against the cool steel wall. I held my breath as I listened and watched her walk out of the room and pass in front of my hiding spot, exiting the hallway and heading toward the authorized zone. Once I was certain she hadn't been alerted to my presence, I slowly rose up and watched the doors close behind her distinct white lab coat.

That was the last time I saw Dr. Schole.

---

A few days passed, until I found myself in the care of another scientist - this one named Dr. Ross. She was a seemingly young woman, who's most distinctive feature was her unruly red hair that grew in chaotic springs around her head. I was surprised when she entered my room, stumbling over the books I'd forgotten to put away that laid strewn across the floor. " OOOF!" she exclaimed as the papers she once held in her hand went flying across the room. Quickly, I climbed to my feet and began grabbing the papers off the floor and then crossed the space toward her crouched position. She swiftly turned around, her long curls whipping across my face as she looked at me apologetically. " Oh! Thank you, dearie," she said in a bright, flustered tone, smiling at me as she took the papers from my outstretched hand. I nodded and returned her smile before I took my normal seat beside the desk.

" I'm Dr. Ross, and I've been assigned as your continuing supervisor," she said while scrambling around the desk, seemingly trying to figure out the desk and its contents. I couldn't help the amusement that crept onto my expression at her; it was very fascinating to see someone who didn't really know how things worked in the compound. " Today, we'll be running the standard tests... if I could find a damn pen in this place..." she said, grinding her teeth together. I frowned and tilted my head to the side, feeling my eyebrows crunch together in concern. Slowly, I rose from my chair and went over to the desk, reaching around her and opened up the top left drawer, which contained pens and other writing equipment. She turned toward the open drawer, and she chuckled softly. " Well, that's embarrassing," she said, nodding in quick thanks to me before she began filling out the paperwork. I smiled and went back to my seat, twiddling my thumbs in my lap as I waited for another one of my daily tests to begin.

---

Years passed, and life continued as normal; well, what seemed like it was normal at the time. Dr. Ross and I began to have a very good relationship, and sometimes, she'd join me during my walks and time in the courtyard. We talked about everything you could imagine - Dr. Ross worked as a volunteer in a place called Cambodia, and would help treat the elderly and sick. She used to travel across the world and learned quite a lot about herbal and homeopathic treatments for illnesses while on her journey. One day, she brought in a massive book for me which contained her personal findings, and included journal entries from her times in distant lands.

" Some of the wording is a bit advanced for you yet," she said, smiling as I rolled my eyes, " but there are some great pieces of information and stories that I've included from my little adventures." I took the book, feeling a large grin spread across my face. " It's a copy of the actual book, but I thought you might like it," she said, wrapping her arms around her knees. " Thank you, Dr. Ross. I promise to take very good care of it," I replied. For months I would read this book, pausing only when absolutely necessary; once I had read through it completely, I'd start back at the beginning, knowing that I would find something that I'd missed the first time around. Her writing was stunning, and the picture that she was able to draw of the world outside of the compound made me feel very incomplete at times. I felt this constant longing to enjoy the same experiences she'd written about; to feel the immense heat of desert sand sink between your toes, to scent the saltiness of seawater in your hair, to touch the cold morning dew that rested gently on each blade of grass...

Until that moment, I'd never thought of myself as a prisoner. But after reading about what my life could've been like, if I'd been born outside of the compound, I wanted nothing more than to be free of this place.