by Jodie Kobe
Chapter two
V I V I A N
Staring at the bright light for so long should have blinded me by now, but surprisingly, I can still see everything.
I've been listening to the silence for a while now, waiting. But waiting for what?
A tingling in my back starts, and I close my eyes in relief as I shift left and right. If I can move my back, then my legs should be able to move soon. I'll be able to get out of here.
“Not so fast, 42-2,” a hoarse voice says. A man.
The number he stated doesn't ring a bell, but I think he's talking to me. My head glances in both directions, but no one is in the room with me.
Did he just read my mind?
“Yes, but because of a device,” the same voice speaks. “A computer is wired to your brain, allowing us to view your thoughts. Don’t worry. Once we disconnect you from the system, your thoughts will be private.”
There’s a pause and a man with a head full of gray hair appears at my side. He's dressed in a white lab coat with spectacles perched on his nose. He pulls them off and drops them into the side pocket of his coat.
“I’d like to welcome you here,” he says. “My name is Doctor Russell Welds. Have you spoken a word yet? Go ahead. I want to see how we’ve improved.”
I stare at him but don’t open my mouth.
Improved? There are a lot of questions in my head with no answers.
“Do not worry,” the man—Welds—says. “It’s nothing you should be concerned about. Just speak.”
I can’t move my mouth.
Welds stares at me. “You cannot remember anything, I'm sure. But speak, please.”
I focus on moving my jaw. Instead of triumphing, I end up holding my breath.
“You are not able to?” Welds asks.
I blink once, continuing to stare at the man as he nods.
He scratches his chin. “I see,” he says. “Again, do not worry. This has occurred multiple times with our subjects. About ninety percent of speech loss was only temporary. I believe it is the response you get when your brain reacts with a certain chemical we use to wake you.”
Wake me? I echo the words in my head.
Welds’ expression is nothing more than blank as he says, “Bring you back from the dead. The maximum age we can accept is thirty-five. We feel if we do any higher, the process will malfunction and cause mutations rather than revivals.”
I continue to stare at him. What? I was dead? This is my only way of communicating—by him reading my mind. I hope I will be able to feel my face soon.
Welds’ eyebrows knit together. “Precisely.”
This isn't some kind of joke, is it?
But why can’t I feel anything?
He points to a small device on the wall. “Our machine is preventing you from moving. If there aren’t any glitches, you should feel normal again soon.”
I remember I can move my head, so I nod. Okay. May I sit up? But secretly my stomach tightens when he mentions glitches.
Welds nods to answer my question. “You can if you’re capable. You may need my assistance...unless you can do it yourself.”
I try to push myself up, but in the end Welds helps me. Once I’m propped up on my hands, I am conscious of something on the side of my head. My fingers run over my ear, feeling a hard object attached to it.
“That is what connects us to your mind,” Welds states swiftly, seeing that I have noticed the object.
Am I being monitored? I ask.
Welds is nodding before I finish my question. “Yes.”
May I move around now?
Welds takes a quick look at a watch on his wrist and answers, “Very well, 42-2. You may.”
The number 42-2 doesn't make sense to me, but Welds doesn't bother explaining. Instead, he strolls over to a panel on one side of the room and dials a few numbers. After he’s done, he turns back to face me and waits in silence.
Does he expect me to know what to do?
His eyes freeze on me, but I look away from him, finding my toes fascinating all of a sudden. I try to make them move, but nothing happens. He might have shut the immobilization thing off but I still can't feel anything.
He finally speaks. “Let your legs adjust. You’ll be able to move them in a few seconds.” He crosses his arms and continues studying me. I want to tell him to look some other way.
Welds slips his glasses back on as I watch my unmoving feet. There is no tingling sensation similar to the one I felt on my back. There is no feeling at all.
Welds sighs and walks over to me, pulling a penlight from his lab coat pocket. “Turn your head this way, please,” he says, crouching down until he is eye level with me. He grips my chin with dry hands and turns my head his way.
The penlight shines into my eyes and I try not to flinch away. “Hmm,” Welds mumbles, squinting at my eyes. “Everything’s fine.” He pulls his hand back and straightens himself, adding, “Sit still for a few minutes. The serum doesn’t always wear off—”
The door to the room eases open and someone unfamiliar steps in. Nobody I’ve seen so far is familiar at all.
This new guy is younger than the other two doctors I’ve encountered. He scratches at his blond hair as he enters. The strands stick in an upward direction, appearing as if he used hairspray and gel to style it.
He holds the door open with his foot, trying to balance a clipboard in his hand simultaneously. Just like Welds, he has a white lab coat draped over him. His jeans are blue, and that is the thing about him that stands out. Welds' outfit is mostly white, just like mine.
He indicates to the clipboard, saying, “Welds.”
“—immediately,” Welds finishes what he is presenting to me.
The guy clears his throat. “You sent me.”
“I did,” Welds says, casting the guy a quick glance. Then he turns to me. “42-2, this is Rian Callum...also known as 41-5.”
Rian nods in my direction as if to say hello. “Her name’s Vivian, is that right?”
Vivian. That sounds just about right.
“Quite correct,” Welds says, taking two large steps to Rian. He snatches the clipboard from the guy's grasp and makes his way back to me.
While examining the clipboard the whole time, he explains to Rian about my condition. “An issue occurred with her jaw, so she's not able to talk right now. We don’t know how long this will go on for. And apparently, she has no ability to move her legs, either.”
I stare at a wall until I hear Rian suggest, “Wheelchair?”
My head snaps in Rian’s direction. Hoping Welds can still read my mind, I think, You could always just try to let it wear off. I’m sure it’ll work.
Although I am not so sure.
Welds’ head turns slightly toward me as I think this. He mutters something under his breath and says to Rian, “The schedule will continue as arranged.”
Rian nods, asking, “Should she use the manual or electric?”
There is a pause as Welds thinks this over. “Manual. You’ll be escorting her around.”
I know why he chose the manual. He doesn’t want me driving off and fleeing this place, whatever it is.
Welds waves a hand through the air. “Accompany her through the hall. They’ll do some quick inspections and you’ll give her a tour around. Is that clear?”
“I understand” is all Rian says as he leaves.
Welds turns to me and indicates to the clipboard in his hand. “This carries quite a few fascinating facts about your previous self...several years ago. I would recommend reading it. But it’s your choice. Perhaps you’d like to familiarize yourself with your past?”
I nod once and he holds the clipboard out to me. Its wood feels strange and dry in my cold hands. I run my fingers over the white paper attached to the clipboard. It doesn’t feel stiff or anything like I’d imagined it would be. Instead, the material feels silky and cloth-like, just like my tank top.
This is...paper? I think as I look up at Welds.
He shrugs. “More like a tablet. It functions as paper if you’d like it to. But the element differs.”
I start to scan the cloth. Its absence of words rises confusion in me. Welds seems to understand so he reaches out and places two fingers on the corner of the cloth, causing it to brighten. Letters and icons fade onto the screen and I recoil from it, surprised. What?
Welds is here to explain. “In order to navigate through your documents, you need to slide your finger across the fabric. If you don’t touch it for a minute or two, the screen goes dark, which saves power. According to your document, you were around late enough to know what electricity and tablets were. I’m sure your brain would remember them well after all these years.”
I nod. I do remember the devices and tablets. People relied on them a lot. Although by the looks of this room, it seems like they rely on them just as much if not more.
I watch the screen of the thin tablet for another second before swiping my fingers across the cloth, slowly at first.
It moves on to the next page. The previous letters have disappeared and new ones replace it. I don’t know why I’m so surprised by this. My brain tells me I’ve used these types of things before.
I squint at the words on the page. There is a word I recognize right away. My name. Vivian. The name after it I don’t recognize too well. Though I believe it is my last name. Clancy.
Welds nods. “You are correct. I am pleased you know how to read. We’ve had complete fails in the past. The people revived had entirely lost their reading ability.”
I wonder what he did to those people because of it.
“I must depart now. I shall leave you on your own to read it. Are you able to feel anything in your legs yet?”
I shake my head with my gaze fixed on the thin tablet.
“Very well.” He detaches the small mind-reading object from my ear with a swift motion, glancing at something on his wrist at the same time. His shoes clatter on tile, and he's gone from the room in seconds.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to communicate with anyone now that I don't have that mind-reading object with me. Welds said a tour has been organized for me, but I hope it's not going to be necessary for me to chat with the tour guide.
The tablet screen, left untouched, goes dark. I place two fingers in the corner like I’d seen Welds do, and the screen automatically switches on, showing me the document it had previously held.
The words swim around the page as I try to focus on them more closely. My eyes aren’t used to this type of brightness. Is there a way to turn it down a bit—?
I am startled when the door bursts open and an unfamiliar man walks in, wearing a white lab coat. Rian follows behind him, pushing a dark blue object, which appears to be a two-wheeled wheelchair. It consists of a normal seat as well as a back support.
The unfamiliar man stops in front of me with his hands behind his back. He waits patiently as Rian struggles with the chair before abandoning it by the door to join the man’s side.
As the man begins to talk, Rian gets a quick look around the room and mutters, “Welds left.”
“I assume you’re Ms. Vivian. I have been instructed to assist Mr. Callum in placing you onto the wheelchair.” The man gestures to it.
The clipboard in my hand gets left on the bed. Rian and the other man grab each of my arms and lower me down from the bed. It takes a while, but they finally drag me to the chair. I shift my arms and back, trying to make myself comfortable.
The other guy leaves, and I'm left with Rian. Right before we leave the room, he notices the lonely clipboard on the bed.
“Oh, you might need this,” he says, strolling over to it to grab it from the bed. He places it gently on my lap and stirs the wheelchair out of the room.
As soon as I see what’s out in the hall, I can't blink anymore.
It’s white and reflective, just like the other room. Several people move around, but it's not as crowded as I expect it to be. At least people live here.
This hallway is different from any of the hallways I remember seeing in my past life. From where I am, there seems to be no end to it. Doors line the walls—regular doors. I turn my head, noticing that there are no turns whatsoever.
Rian speaks up, shrugging. “Uh, well...this is home, I guess. It might look odd at first but you’ll get used to it. And don't get the idea that it's going to be easy to navigate through this, because it won't be. You can't enter some rooms. They're off limits. You'd have to be true scientist to be able to access it.”
We advance and he tells me what some of the rooms hold. Some are bathrooms, typical bedrooms, storage closets or operating rooms.
He tells me I’m going to the testing room, where I’ll be examined and asked to do a few things. But since my legs don’t work, they’re postponing the physical activities until I’m able to walk.
We come upon yet another white door. This time, Rian stops the wheelchair right in front of it, saying, “This is the testing room you’ll be going to. Once you’re done, I’ll accompany you for the rest of the tour.” He pushes the door open, and leads me inside.
This room is large. Scientists in lab coats hang about, talking with what appear to be patients.
A few desks line the walls, and the scientists who aren't on their feet sit behind them.
Rian leads the wheelchair to a woman sitting in the farthest corner, scribbling on an object at her desk. As we get closer, I see it’s another tablet, but thicker than the one I have. It doesn’t have a clipboard supporting it. She first looks at Rian, then her eyes adjust to me and my wheelchair. “You must be Vivian. I have been informed of your condition. Shall we begin on the tests?”
Rian nods before I can, letting the woman hold on to the wheelchair.
She steers it toward a door I have not noticed before. I glance at Rian to see him sinking down in the woman's desk chair. The last thing I see him do before the lady pushes me into the room is rummage through the desk drawers.
