YOU ARE: AFRAID

If you can't talk about how you feel, I wonder what can?

It stinks in here.

It smells like rot, or at least what I imagine rot to smell like. I can clearly see, but I can’t tell what anything is around me. It’s like I have a shifting glaze over my sight, unobscured but blinded. I think I can move, but I haven’t really tried yet.

It stinks in here.

God, where the fuck am I? I don’t hear anything. I want to go home. I miss my dad… what? No I don’t, I haven’t seen him since I was a kid. God, this shit’s got me hallucinating. I put my hand in front of my face. Glazed, but I can move just fine.

It STINKS in here.

THUD. Something hitting metal nearby. Is the floor metal? The walls? I can’t tell. I reach down and touch the floor. Cold, maybe like metal? What does metal even feel like anymore? Can I remember the sensation?

IT STINKS IN HERE.

“Fredricks.” My head reacts at the sound instinctively. Is that my name? For some reason I couldn’t tell, like my mind was wiped clean of sin and thought.

“Is that me?” I speak. A stranger in my own skin, I hardly recognize myself - my voice is foreign, unknown. I look around to find the other voice. A cold metal face. A helmet, a mask, atop a body cloaked in sterile clothing. The metal face nodded.

“You need to come with me. Mandatory therapy.” I attempt to stand, almost thrown off with how easy it comes to me. I thought my body would be heavy with lead and steel, so I almost leap out of my own skin getting up. Slowly, I tredge. I don’t see any reason not to trust the metal face, I’d have no other options otherwise.

We walk. My vision clears as we walk, but the scenery doesn’t change. Sterile, sterile - white on silver steel on white as blinding as can be. I don’t keep track of how long we walk, the rhythmic steps on the muted steel floor almost a lullaby to me. Tap, tap, step. Tap, tap, step.

The rhythm stops. We stop. A muted sliding, a door opens and we continue. Another sterile room, two chairs across from one another separated by a steel table. Two windows, one door, no posters. I take a seat at the chair closest to me, seeing no reason to keep the metal face waiting. I could sense a pause from them, as if they didn’t expect me to be so placatable, only for them to continue to their own seat across from me.
Silence.

“Do you know why you are here, Fredricks?” I shake my head. “You are being rehabilitated by our organization. An experiment.” I couldn’t figure out what he meant by that. Before I could question it, cold hands grasped my shoulders, bringing my right wrist up. A cold metal band was placed on it, sealed and locked into place before I could protest.

“This will help with rehabilitation. It scans your brain waves and analyzes them, stating what emotion you feel at the current moment.” How… odd, I thought. Just like that, it knows what I feel?

YOU ARE: CONFUSED. A voice from the band boomed, startling me. YOU ARE: NERVOUS.

“Glad to see it works.” The metal mask across from me spoke, shuffling papers that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Now Fredricks, how do you feel?”

YOU ARE: DISORIENTED. The metal mask nodded, writing down notes as they spoke. “New surroundings and heavy sedation. We do have to change the ward often, so you may not remember everything just yet.”

“I guess that makes sense. Hey, what experiment did you guys do to me anyway? I don’t even remember signing up for anything.” YOU ARE: DISORIENTED.

“A simple medical trial, you’ve been receiving injections every few days to test the potency of a new drug we’re developing.” YOU ARE: NERVOUS. Medical trial? I thought; I don’t sign up for things like that, not even for free samples at the grocery store. How the hell would I have gotten myself involved in a medical trial THIS intense? YOU ARE: CONFUSED. YOU ARE: SCARED. Deep breaths, deeper. I don’t trust this, I don’t LIKE this.

“What’s the drug for? Not some crazy scary shit right?” YOU ARE: PARANOID. Over and over this booming voice from my wrist overpowers my thoughts, overtaking what I think and feel like a virus.

“Please relax Fredricks, nothing scary of the sort.” The metal face doesn’t elaborate further. Great, so I’m not allowed to know what they’re putting in me? Did I sign a fuckin’ waiver to know things when I started taking it too? YOU ARE: ANNOYED. Oh, cool, just broadcast that for me. “Rest assured, you’re taking this of your own free will and it will have no lasting side effects. That I can guarantee.”

“But you said you were testing it–”

“-For human consumption, yes. However we’ve tested this on every animal we’re legally allowed to test on, and nothing longstanding has happened to any of them.”

“Legally? Ok, wait wait. Am I the first human you’ve tested this shit on?” YOU ARE: AFRAID. “And can you get this thing to shut the fuck up already?! I don’t need to hear it every five seconds.” YOU ARE: ANGRY.

“Please relax, Fredricks.” I was ready to say more, but refrained. What’s the point anyway? It seems like these guys won’t give me anything further than this.

YOU ARE: CALM.

“Much better. Now, may I speak?” I nod. “Thank you. This medicine, it’s to help with emotions.”

“Emotions?”

“Yes, emotions. Many times, humankind is burdened with higher thought, with societal cues hiding our emotions. Many times, this is good but…”

“But?”

YOU ARE: INTRIGUED.

“But many times, this causes issues. Explosive rage, repressed emotions. Many years spent in therapy unable to even conjure the words for what you’re feeling. Does this sound familiar, Fredricks?”

I choke back my words. I can’t remember, but something in the sterile and bookish way the metal face said all this… it reminded me of something hazy and distant. Something I couldn’t quite put those choked words too, choked words that would come out as nothing but a sigh or a strangled syllable. Choked words…

YOU ARE: UNSURE.

“I… I don’t know.” I finally manage to say something. Even saying that much feels like rocks weighing down my lungs, rocks shredding my ribs and my stomach and the will I had kept there. “Is it supposed to…?”

“Yes, Fredricks. It is.” The metal faced doctor put down the papers gently, their tone softening with it. “It’s why you signed up for this trial, after all.” I swallowed, as hard as I could manage. Why I signed up?

Why… Why why why why why why? I couldn’t remember why, or when, or how. I could barely cling to the name that was supposedly mine, nor the memories that make it mine. So how… why did I end up here? YOU ARE: AFRAID. The booming voice on my wrist only makes the spiral worse, as if those words grip my throat and squeeze away my confidence through my pores. Am I actually afraid? Am I being told to be afraid? Are these thoughts even my own? I feel trapped in a spiral, thoughts and emotions flooding every cell of my body, every sweat drop melting into liquid panic back into my skin. YOU ARE: AFRAID. Louder, louder still; how much longer can it keep me stuck here in my body? A prisoner of my own making, or rather… is this their making? Do they plan to keep me scared and complacent? Do they lie about what they’re doing to me? I can hardly remember a life before this at this moment, who knows how they really got their hands on me. YOU ARE: AFRAID. YOU ARE: AFRAID. YOU ARE: AFRAID. I AM AFRAID.

“Fredericks.” I snap back to my senses. “Please, try not to overload yourself.” I look at the wristband. Silent. Ever-watching.

I look back to the metal face.

“What the fuck was that?” The metal face picks up and shuffles pages once more, deciding on one before setting the stack back down.

“That, my dear, is the effects of the drug. Hycampxia.” I stare. “A drug to, in simple terms, make you hyper aware of your own emotions.” I am silent. “By stimulating your limbic system within your brain, hycampxia sends it working overtime to re-activate those long buried emotions. A pinnacle of our research, if I do say so myself.”

Ah. Ahah… that’s all it is. Making me feel again.

“Sick fucks.” YOU ARE: ANGRY. Damn right I am. But… I can’t be bothered to show it anymore. What’s the point of feeling in a room like this? What’s the point of thrashing and crying in a room like this? Two windows, one door, no posters. Silence.

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

“You signed up for it, Fredricks. I’m simply doing my job.” I bit my tongue against the muddled words I wished I could say. The emotions are clear, so clear, but the words I need are sloughing off of my brain like saltwater.

YOU ARE: COMPLACENT.

Though I can’t see a facial feature, I swear the metal face smiles hearing this. Science like this must dull your morality to an extent, if complacency makes you excited.

“Thank you, Fredricks. Now I’d like to get on with our test finally, if you’ll allow me.”

“Test?” The metal face nodded, and pulled out a single sheet from the pile. The metal face held it up.

“What do you see here, Fredricks?”

I stare.

And stare.

And stare.

“Take your time, Fre–”

“Am I supposed to see something here?”

The metal face’s hands tensed. Tensed around the blank page they held to my face. They held it with care, around what I was supposed to see, but… blank. White. Paper with no ink and endless purpose. Cold and clean. YOU ARE: CONFUSED.

“Are you… certain, that you see nothing?” I nod. Nothing at all. The metal face lowers the sheet, and picks up another from the bottom of the stack. “This one?” They ask again, showing me another blank page. I shake my head, wondering more and more if this was a sick joke or prank.

Another page, another question.

Another shaken head, another blank page.

Rinse, repeat.

The metal face got through the entire stack, each page somehow more blank than the last if you can believe it. The metal face straightened up the stack, no expressions but somehow oozing an aura of discomfort as if something was very, very wrong.

“Fredricks, please confirm with me. You see nothing on the forms in front of you, correct?” I nod.

Silence.

I swear the metal face is grimacing under the mask. There’s a thick tension in the air. The band on my wrist is silent. I’m silent. Only now in this uncomforting silence do I notice the lack of sound from the building, not even an electric hum despite the sterile lighting everywhere. The metal face sighs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll notify the medical staff to adjust your dosage.” YOU ARE: CONFUSED. Metal face gathers their papers without reservation. “Just an overactivation, it seems. Starting to block some of the sensors in your brain.” What? Sensors? YOU ARE: NERVOUS.

“Sensors?”

“In your eyes, Fredricks. The brain is a delicate organ, a micrometer difference could change the way you taste or could make you blind.” YOU ARE: NERVOUS. The metal face made a sound similar to a chuckle. “No need to be nervous, we just have to find the right balance with the human brain versus a canine.”

“Wait wait wait, canine? You’ve only tested this on fuckin’ dogs before?!” YOU ARE: ANGRY. The metal face stood, like my yelling was just a mosquito in their ear.

The metal face stared at me. I couldn’t see, but I could feel their eyes on me. Boring holes into my face, into my brain. Like they were trying to read every electrical signal pulsing through my skull.

“Fredricks. One more question.” I pause my anger. I nod.

“What?”

“How does my face appear to you? My voice?” I pause. YOU ARE: CONFUSED.

“Aren’t you wearing a mask? It masks your voice too y’know, you should really get that figured out with your boss.” The metal face tensed. They touched their mask, as if they didn’t realize they were wearing one.
“Fredricks, I’m not wearing a mask.”

…

…what?

YOU ARE: CONFUSED.

The metal face places their papers back down. They return to their seat.

“Fredricks. What does my face look like to you?” I shake my head. YOU ARE: NERVOUS. The metal face grabs my hands together, and only now do I notice the trembling.

“I-I told you, a mask.” The metal face shakes their head.

“The mask, what does it look like?” Their grip tightens. “What do you see when you look at me, Fredricks?” Though it’s muffled, I can feel the panic rise in their tone. Panic. …Panic?

“A… a flat, metal mask. No features.” Their grip tightens, as if they’re trying to stop the shaking.

“And my voice? Fredricks, what do you hear?” YOU ARE: SCARED.

“Uhh, i-it’s muffled, I can’t tell the gender or anything. It’s like you have a filter on it.” YOU ARE: SCARED. The metal face goes limp, but keeps its iron grip on me. “Ow, hey– that hurts man!” The metal face lets go almost in panic, and starts digging through their notes in a panic. Panic, panic, panic.

YOU ARE: AFRAID.

“Fredricks, that’s not a side effect– N-None of that is listed. How long?”

“I dunno, I don’t remember anything before I woke up.” They stop digging through their notes. They tilt their head up.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

The metal face stares at their hands for a while. No motion, no movement. The trembling has stopped too. This eerie feeling, this… whatever, whatever. This shit is scary. YOU ARE: AFRAID.

“I…” The metal face hesitates, then stops.

RIIIIIIIIIIIP.

The metal face rips a chunk of metal out of the side of their head. YOU ARE: AFRAID.

“I can’t fucking do this anymore– Michael, do you really not remember anything?” Michael? For some reason the name’s familiar. I feel this weird sense of unease in my stomach, this ugly pit returns. YOU ARE: AFRAID.

“Michael?” The metal face slams their fist into the table with a rattling thud.

“Damn it, what was the point of this then?! Weeks, weeks of this!!” YOU ARE: AFRAID. The more the name bounces in my head the more the unease grows. Why’d they say my name with such… sadness?

“I just wanted you to open up to me Michael, I wanted to fix you! I never should’ve brought you here!!” YOU ARE: AFRAID. Wait, my name? My name? How am I so sure that’s my name? That pit in my stomach’s growing, sharp and painful spikes stabbing my lungs and my intestines.

“This stupid fucking medicine, I knew it wasn’t gonna work! I knew it’d just rot your brain the same as the fucking test dogs!!” YOU ARE: AFRAID. The test dogs? Rotten?

“So you knew? You knew it was gonna kill me?!” The metal face looks up at me mid-panic. I could feel the tears and sadness behind the cold metal frame.

“I…”

“You fucking sick freak, you KNEW?! You’ve killed me, fucks sake!!” I get up and throw my chair to the side. These fuckers doomed me to die and for what?! To test some shitty drug and fix me? Fix what?! “What could you possibly try and fix me for? I didn’t sign up for shit and you don’t even know me!”

The metal face’s body limped back in their chair.

“I… I just wanted my husband back.”

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

…what?

The metal face straightens up. They gather their papers, and beckon towards the door. Two more metal faced people enter, one with a long syringe.

“We’ll… We’ll try again later.” The metal face sighs. “I’ll see you later, Michael.”

Wait. Wait wait wait wait.

YOU ARE: AFRAID.

The metal face with the syringe approaches me. I don’t fight when the needle goes into my arm.

YOU ARE: AFRAID.

My body is already starting to weaken. I don’t fight when the metal faces gather me up like a paperweight.

YOU ARE: AFRAID.

I don’t think I can hear anything else. See anything else. Other than that damn wristband yelling at me as everything goes white.

I AM AFRAID.