Alex's Asylum Welcome to the institute

(Ring around the Rosie…) 

Hope sat terrified in the back seat of the red pickup, silent tears coursing down her pasty cheeks. Her neck swung forward in an uncomfortable lurch as the Chevy hit a pothole in the road. Her body flung back to the leather seat and the little nine-year-old girl continued her noiseless mourning. Turning her head to face the window, she brushed her long auburn hair from her face. The truck was going fast along the many miles of grassland. Nothingness seemed to stretch as far as Hope’s young eyes could see. Another reason to become even more frightened than she already was in the first place. The man in the front seat (whom had never bothered giving her his name) lit a cigarette and tossed the match out his rolled down window. He continued to puff as the warm summer wind whipped through his chin length, greasy dark brown hair. The radio, once playing endless oldies, now frizzled with the annoying sound of static. With a grunt, he turned it off and seemed to push the gas pedal even further down, beads of sweat now beginning to trickle down his forehead.

(Pockets full of posy…)

Hope sat up, startled as the high-pitched ring from the man’s cell phone rang excitedly. He almost dropped his cigarette on the ground in the frantic hurry to answer it. Digging it from the pocket of his torn pants, he pressed a button, and then held it to the side of his head.
“Hello?” He answered. His voice was stern, strong, and frightening.
Hope didn’t say anything, straining her ears to eavesdrop on the conversation. Through the rearview mirror she could see a devilish smirk curl at the ends of the man’s lips as he listened into the phone.
“Yeah, I’ve got the girl. Glad you found my letter.”
The letter. Hope remembered the man quickly scribbling a note to her parents that he left on the door before carrying her off in his vehicle.
“The police are listening to this convo. I ain’t stupid.”
The car swerved violently to the left, the breaks screeching piercingly.
“I told you, give me the money I’ll give you the kid. Try any funny business and…you know…”
There was a silence as the man listened to the other end. Hope yearned to know what was going on, and if somebody was planning to rescue her.
“You’re going to regret this.” The man’s sudden gruff voice almost made Hope jump. The man hung up the phone and threw it angrily to the floor of the passenger’s side. “Damn!” He yelled and pounded his fist as hard as he could upon the dashboard.

(Ashes, ashes…)

Abruptly, the truck came to a dead on halt. The breaks screeched once again and the man took the keys from the ignition. Then he turned around to face Hope. The little girl froze in shock and trembled under his fierce glare. A surge of desperate panic swelled in her and she wanted to do nothing but get back home to her family.
Finding a hidden courage, she spoke in a shaky voice, “Are my parents coming for me?”
The man sat silent for a moment and then turned around in his seat to face Hope in the back. He sneered. “No. You’re parents don’t give a damn about you. I said I’d let you go for only a little bit of cash.” He spit in her face. The little girl was too alarmed to wipe off the saliva from her cheek. The man cackled and sat back in his chair, heaving on his smoke.
“S-s-so what am I going to do now?” Hope asked, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. She was wearing her favorite shirt, the purple one with sparkly flowers on the front. The same shirt her parents had gotten her for Christmas. The same shirt her parents fought for her not to wear today in the hot weather. The same shirt her parents…her parents…
There was no answer from the man. A spine-chilling silence filled the hot and stuffy air of the Chevy. The man turned back to the front seat, leaned toward his side, and fumbled underneath the passenger seat for something. Finding what he wanted, a dark black case, he brought it up to the seat. Hope couldn’t see what he was pulling out of it, her eyes unable to see through the thick leather chair…unfortunately. Then the man quickly pulled back to his seat, opened the silver car door handle, stepped out into the dry weather, and slammed the door harshly behind him.
Hope pulled her feet onto her chair and cradled her knees. Then she held her head and sobbed into her legs, the smell of her dirty jeans filling her nostrils. Tears coursed down her cheeks and left droplets of wet spots on her pants. The car was empty and even though the man was gone, got even more daunting to the child. Then without warning, her door swiftly opened. Hope would have sprung from her seat in shock if it were not for the seatbelt that strapped her soundly to it. The man’s face closed in on hers, his warm breath blowing silently across her face. He had discarded of the cigarette and leaned in closer to the girl.
“Looks like this is my only choice…I can’t have something to slow me down me on my run.”
Hope’s heart began pounding inside her chest, her stomach yearning to leap out of her throat. She felt the need to vomit, but sat silent, too shocked to move a muscle.
“It all ends here, kid,” The man said. Hope heard a click as he began to bring his arms upward to her head. Hope’s eyes widened, unsure of this gesture and the strange sound that seemed to ring in her ears.
Then she felt a cold metal tube-like object placed on the side of her head. Hope froze suddenly, unable to turn around or make another move. There was another click.
“Maybe I’ll be a good man and send your mommy and daddy to heaven with you.”
Hope’s pupils got smaller as her eyes widened, finally taking in what was going to happen once the man moved his finger closer to her head…

(We all fall down.)

Blaire was one of those girls who could be anything but she continually boxed herself from society. She was pretty enough with her silky black hair and skinny waist to become a model, but could care less on the latest fashion. She was logical enough with her quick and casual thinking to be a researcher, but insisted on being told what to believe. She could have been a singer with her smooth and flowing voice, but stayed antisocial. She had the wrists of an artist, but was convinced they would bring her up to play cello. Her thin and beautiful fingers could have her become a musician, but her ears, as she claimed, were too delicate, too sensitive. She had the nerve to be a rebel, but allowed fear to grip her. She had the charm to be popular, but strayed away from the spotlight.
Blaire was a chameleon , changing into the color of her surroundings, trying to hide in the branches of the high school and being lost in the leaves of the students. Blaire was a firefly that let off a blinding, yet pleasing light, but being taken advantage of and shoved into a jar for the pleasure of the hunter. Blaire was a fish, swimming in the opposite direction of the current, trying to dodge the tides of fame.
Blaire was Blaire, a being with no decent metaphor.
Blaire was Blaire.
But none of that matters now.
None of it.
The way Blaire made me smile, the way she held my hand, the way she kissed me gently, whispering my name in a soft tickle against my ear.
But none of that matters now.
She always told me I was the only one who didn’t twitch when she spoke, didn’t flinch when she moved, didn’t groan when she touched me. She claimed I was the only one who understood her. I’d always smile and nod all the many times she told me this, but she was wrong.
I didn’t understand Blaire at all.
Maybe that’s why she did what she did. It stung that the truth was that I was a lie. It burned that the lie was I was the truth.
Why did I do it? Please, God, tell me why. If you love me so much then why did you allow this to happen? Why? What did I do? What did she do? Why?
I tried to apologize to Blaire’s parents but they didn’t listen. I tried to explain to my mom but she slapped me…hard. I tried to elucidate to the judge but he sentenced me to juvenile detention. I tried to clarify to my roommate but he avoided me.
And here I stand.
Hoping you’ll listen.
But if you don’t I won’t care.
Nothing matters anymore…
Because she’s dead.

Village of the Doomed

There's a little village beyond the mist. Have ya heard of it? I doubt it. Few even are aware of the existence of the Village of the Doomed. This shouldn't strike you as shocking. Most people, who do know of this village, won't admit it. Just the mere thought of it can bring grown adults to their knees in tears. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that there is a place called the Village of the Doomed.
There's a little village where everybody's nightmares are bliss. Where the huts in which people live in are made of flesh from their ancestors. Weapons and tools are from the bones of their enemies. Scriptures are printed with the blood of their friends. Everything in the Village of the Doomed symbolizes a relationship with people of significance. When somebody dies, their skin is shaved from their bodies and used for shelter once again. Although it served one life, it does not mean that the skin cannot be used for another. When an enemy is destroyed, the tools indicate that the destroyer is now stronger and more advanced. When a close loved one has passed to the Shadow Realm, their blood is kept in the wise words that they had to tell. For now their spirit could lie forevermore in the thick scrolls.
There's a little village where everybody is the same. No one will look you in the eyes, for it is considered disrespectful. Nobody will smile, for it brings tears to others. Nobody will speak with fear that their tongues may unfold lies. No one will help others in case the information they give is wrong. Here in the Village of the Doomed, it's every man and woman for themselves.
There's a little village where peace is to be gained. Everything is tranquil because everybody is afraid to disturb the serenity. Where everything is good. If there is peace, it is good. And so the people of the Village of the Doomed have carried on in these manors. As long as there's peace, it is good.
There's a little village that holds a crypt full of lies. Deception seeps through the air like a swarm of flies. Everybody sees the Village of the Doomed as a place of peace. But the fact is, only the villagers can tell you that there is no peace. Bodies lying in the roads are common. Bruises upon children are expected. Rape is ordinary. Fights are frequent. And so many screams…the high shrills are so regular, that the villagers no longer can recognize them. A shriek to them is like the wind blowing against a weathered shelter. The moaning is something that just…is.
There's a little village that can be helped before it dies. Everybody knows that it's possible for the Village of the Doomed to return to all that was good. Everybody knows it's possible for everything to be honestly good. But the only way is if the village learns to speak, learns to see, and learns to listen to each other. However, it's not possible for the villagers to do that. Not without raised voices. Not without hate. Not without tears. Not without war. Not without bloodshed. And it's these things that the Village of the Doomed is avoiding in the first place.
There's a little village beyond the mist.
There's a little village where everybody's nightmare is bliss.
There's a little village where everybody is the same.
There's a little village where peace is to be gained.
There's a little village that holds a crypt full of lies.
There's a little village that can be helped before it dies.
There's a little village that can't receive aid,
Because everyone's far too afraid.
Because everyone's far too afraid to help the Village of the Doomed. Who could put it through such misery? Nobody. Who really wants to go to war for peace? Nobody. Wouldn't there be another way? No.
Unless, of course, you can understand the pain of the Village of the Doomed…and maybe understand the hardships of ridding of that pain.

5 July, 2021
So our advancement continues sturdily toward achievements. Everything is as planned. Our research has gone through to better accomplishments and triumphs than we ever could have imagined. And to think, it all started with our good friend Dolly.
Genetics. The most talked about word on our planet today. Every person’s life now revolves around it. We have now mastered cloning and have equipped it to our armies. Instead of recruiting soldiers to our military, we merely breed them as if we were working for puppy mills for Homo sapiens. We have come to the fine-tuning of this process and have been able to make our men and women of the forces stronger, better, and hold more endurance than any Olympic athlete in this day and age.
So we’d like to sit back and think that Earth has come to its day of glory and finally the peoples of the planet may relax and never again worry. Or so we’d think. But in reality, Earth is sick. Pollution, over population, nuclear wars. Not many things besides our science encroachment are any better than they were thirty years ago. In fact, many things are worse.
In 2013 we tried our best to cure the world of viruses. We already knew that the virus easily camouflages itself and buries itself deep inside our body where it finds a cell host and attacks. Once the cell is weak, the virus makes its move and takes over the dying cell. In the cell’s last hours, the virus controls the DNA of the cell and forces it to reproduce thousands of new viruses instead of more cells. Positive that we had the technology to make cells’ genetic structures more invulnerable, we gathered an immense amount of specimens. It started with dogs and sheep and we were rewarded with success. When these animals were exposed to harmful viruses, the body fought back on the disease immediately before it had a chance to attack a cell. With eagerness, we quickly assembled a dozen or so willing guinea pigs in our first attempt to do this surgical procedure to humans. The first week exposed to the familiar illness simply known as The Cold, they showed absolutely no sign of infirmity. But we had celebrated too soon. Almost like harmful drugs which give you the temporary ‘high’ but leave you worse off than when you began, this is how our testing went. Instead of strengthening the cells forever, it only lasted momentarily and left the cells weaker that ever before. Our human specimens caught the slightest Cold virus and was not only affected by the annoying illness, but were too weak to fight that it became fatal and our guinea pigs died only one month after our experiments. Alas! Our idea of success became the worst failure known to mankind.
The viruses were made stronger from the tampered cells. And what’s worse, because of this, for unknown reasons, the virus has learned how to reproduce without the aid of cells. Thus, disease lurks in every corner of the world and people are constantly dying from severe afflictions.
It may seem morbid to say, but because of these experiments we are grateful. When studying yet another way to stop these new, inevitable viruses, we stumbled on a piece of information that so incredibly shocked us we wished not to believe it. How could something so absurd and bizarre be fact?
We learned that there is absolutely nothing in the world.
There was no such thing as pain. Fatigue was imaginary. The feeling of cold, warmth, and fear didn’t exist. It was simply an illusion created by the mind to protect us from Death’s claw. When a blade passes through our flesh there is no pain. Our brain only makes us think that as a way to warn you from digging the knife any deeper. And it is effective. But sometimes this may get in the way. Without our mind controlling us into believing fictitious feelings then we humans would have the power to run miles without stopping to catch our breath. Harsh weathers wouldn’t affect us. We would never catch another illness. We could become virtually unstoppable if we knew how to avoid the brain’s lies.
And that is where we come to today. We are researching to create the perfect human. The One who can overcome the mind’s deception. He could become our most valuable weapon for the future to come. He would be the best man of our days. When fire becomes icy, then the temperature is perfect. This is what we are creating, fiery ice, the extreme project.
We are creating the flaming ice.
We are creating him, Gelidus Pyro.

And for now, pay no heed to the consequences.

Have you ever had that feeling? You know, the one where you think everything about your life sucks. Where nothing good can come out of anything. The times when you just wanna sit in a corner and cry, grieving for no particular reason…oh wait, that’s right. People only think you’re weeping for nothing, when in fact, the whole world hates you. And there’s nothing you can do but shed more tears. There’s nothing you can do. ‘Cause your life is just a distant memory in others’ mind, you only exist in a far off remembrance. There’s nothing you can do.


20 July, 2021
As my job insists, I classify humans as Homo sapiens. We are beings simply floating around in existence, not understanding Time, unable to comprehend the process of infinity, dazed at the complex mathematics of life itself.
Is that what we really are?
Evolution. The word forbidden by many religions. The word that separates one person’s views from another. A word I have grown accustomed to. We allegedly are ancestors from ancient mammals resembling today’s ‘monkeys’. We have gone far, and yet, we are not even remotely close to perfection and still our morphing has ceased. Is it our punishment of some kind to be condemned in an imperfect body in a deficient world?
Our own flesh holds us back. The mind resists allowing us excessive knowledge. To abandon the body is to release the grasp of pain, fatigue, and hunger. One can be free from their clutches, escape from everything that holds you back, and bite the chains that don’t allow you to breathe.
But in spite of that we freely allow our bodies to win this eternal battle, to take advantage of us. Many are confused by its misgivings, but the answer is clear: there is also another unseen and often deadly force that is constantly strangling us with more ferocity than the others…fear.
We cannot escape it, cannot run, and cannot hide. It seeks us with blazing, slitted eyes and captures us when completely off guard. It is because of fear that we do not release ourselves from the prison of our own bone and blood.
Was this how we were supposed to evolve? An endless fugitive searching frantically for a way out of this pit full of heated memories, pain, and murderous temptation.
Does fear make Death seemingly impossible or is it that Death arouses fear itself? For fear is a question that merely asks, “Where do we go we die?”

~*~*~*~

This morning at our conference meeting, Dr. Trinity confirmed Project Gelidus Pyre. Our work begins in exactly one week, once we have been able to acquire an adequate specimen to be our first guinea pig. Because of how the contrasting differences between our brains and those of lesser kingdom animalia, we must proceed in human operation immediately.
Already, the press and media have been bombing on us, even though our procedures were supposed to be confidential. But it’s the same year after year; science is intermingling with religion (that word again) and how our tests prove immoral. That only God has the power to create and evolve (and there’s that word again). Now, all of us have the privilege of hanging our heads down in shame when in public facilities.
So begins our experiment with the commencement of our loss of respect.

Don’t you hate the world? Think about it: It’s nothing but gobs of people, people who are thieves, murderers, liars. They surround you. They follow you. They are everywhere. You cannot avoid them. In your vision you see regular people just as yourself. But are you normal? Is anyone considered normal? We’re all so different…and yet all the same. We share the same weaknesses.
Don’t you hate the world?

30 July, 2021
Dr. Trinity had asked me to his office this morning. I came with my regular equipment: nothing but a piece of parchment, a pen, and my laptop. It was something to be mocked at: my job. I may not conduct the surgeries or even help out with the genetic alterations, though none can understand the importance of what I do. But I let them laugh. They can all laugh. But the truth was I was more intelligent than all of them. I could have done anything they were doing and they all know it. I chose this job because I knew the importance…they were to dense to see it first.
“Take a seat, Sean,” Dr. Trinity had told me as soon as I had entered his office.
“You call everybody ‘Doctor’ or by their last names, yet you insist on excluding me by calling me ‘Sean,’” I had said, not accepting his offer. I preferred standing when I held negotiations. It allowed me to become more circumspect to the subject and the speaker.
Dr. Trinity began shuffling through some of his papers. “Because they are trained professionals,” he said, not looking up from his files. “You are simply a little boy who somehow, miraculously stumbled into this place with your little computer.”
I slammed my laptop on his desk, regardless of whether I fractured every wire in there. “I’m the best man you got and you know it. You lose me, this place goes the same place as we all are when we lose the war.”
“Sean, I’ve got men and women here who could replace you instantly.”
“Stop playing pretend.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“Admit it. Admit I’m the best you’ve got.”
There was silence while Dr. Trinity took off his glasses and cleaned them with his sleeve. He heaved a sigh. “You’re the best I’ve got.”
“Then why don’t you respect me?”
“Because you’re the best, but I still am better than you in the long run. Why should I respect somebody I have to look down to?”
I irately took the seat he had offered earlier and picked up my laptop. “Why am I here anyway?”
“Well,” Dr. Trinity began, “originally you were to deliver these papers to room #127 but seeing the current situation I believe there is something else I could ask of you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
If Dr. Trinity had sensed the sarcasm in my gesture, he did not show it. “We have found our guinea pig. It is to become our Gelidus Pyre…”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought it was obvious. I want you to be a part of this project.”
I looked at him disbelievingly. “But little Sean is nothing but a recorder boy, remember?”
“No. You’re the best man I’ve got, remember?”
I sneered. Dr. Trinity had a way to intimidate me even while doing me a favor. “Is it male or female?”
“Why should the sex matter?” Without waiting for an answer, “Male.”
I shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Any other interrogations?”
“Health?”
“Perfect. Couldn’t be better.”
“Birth place?
“Unknown.”
This took me aback. “Age?” I asked with less confidence.
“Nearly one,” Dr. Trinity answered calmly.
“One year?” I nearly fell out of the chair.
“Is there a problem, Sean?”
“It is a baby…”
“Yes. We found him at an orphanage up north. No traces of relatives…”
“Why should that matter?”
“If anything were to happen…”
“You make me sick.”
It was Dr. Trinity’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You have never showed so much emotion over a patient.”
“Our other guinea pigs,” I corrected him, “were not babies and had a voice. They came to us voluntarily or they were criminals and that was the court’s judgment.”
“It’s a baby. It can’t even comprehend that it’s here in the first place.”
There was another awkward silence as I sat in my chair, nearly trembling with rage. The nerve of this lab—of these people! Giving innocent children the immediate risk of death or mutilation without so much of a care. It made my stomach churn. Our world was becoming too desperate.
“Surely you do not intend to call the child Gelidus Pyre?” I asked, still in fury at Trinity.
“No, of course not. We wish to keep our studies secret as long as we can. The child has been given a name.”
“You will tell me.”
“Adam.”
Again, I nearly vomited. “Adam?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“He is the rebirth of humankind. He will lead us to Utopia while staying on Earth. It seemed a fitful name.”
Adam.
“It’s always been an unwritten law that science does not mingle with the affairs of religion! By giving him the name Adam you will destroy not only the respect the media will damage, but also those of the church! You are a fool to carry on with this.”
Dr. Trinity finally set the papers he was holding aside and took off his glasses. His dark brown eyes cut into my own gray-blue. “Then you name him, Sean.”
I sat in silence. Why were we quarreling over a title of a person? Names mean absolutely nothing. The child was more than likely to die in the surgery anyway. “Do not name him,” I said defiantly. “He will choose his own name. If he believes he the rebirth of mankind then Adam he will be. If he believes, as I do, this is a mistake and the final failure of mankind then Demon he will be.”
I stood to my feet. Dr. Trinity gazed at me coolly, his eyes never leaving mine. “And that would make me…?”
“Satan,” I answered, walking out the door, slamming it behind me. He could deliver his own bloody papers.

I knew that it was all a big joke. Dr. Trinity would never allow me to participate in an experiment. I am simply the “little boy who jots everything in his little notebook”.
Or so they think.
They’ll never again pick up these notes for reference. They don’t know that I pick up everything they say, understand everything they do, and I’m dangerous. I’m dangerous to them and they don’t even know. I’m dangerous because I write everything they say and everything they do. One day, somebody will pick up these notes and realize all of the sins I’ve created…if I believed in God.
I—we have taken so many lives yet I’m not considered a murderer because it was all for science. Deaths for the simpler lives of others. A sacrifice you could call it. And they died by our hands. We are to blame, but people blame science.
For whoever reads this I want you to know I do not write this for our research. I write this as a warning. Do not commit to the sins as I have.
I was silent when I know I could have persuaded them to halt Gelidus Pyre. If the boy dies, it is my fault. I’ve sinned because I was quiet. I don’t need a god to send me to some hell.
I’ve already condemned myself. 

You think you're nobody. And you're thinking isn't half wrong. We are nothing but worthless scum on this planet, living as if we have a purpose. No matter what people tell you, not everybody is going to make a difference. The majority of us are simply obstacles for those who make a difference. So why live if we're nothing but a burden? Why not end our lives because it's simply not worth living? We're afraid. We're all so very afraid.

Do not be afraid.

12, December,2034

Ah! Thirteen years have passed since the aftermath of our new project. I can only believe things had gone properly and the first boy lived—then again, nobody ever tells me anything of importance. Shaking their head and laughing, they always reply in a mocking tone, "Sean, why are you still here?" I'm just a joke to them. A joke without a punch line.
It was because of this that I was shocked when I received news that I was to have a private meeting with Dr. Trinity. Of course, I quickly recovered and reminded myself that he probably just needed more staples or some other folly idea to liven my spirits. Little does he know that my spirits have long faded.
I opened his door and entered his office. Things had not changed since I last visited—which was, by God, thirteen years ago—for the desk still remained in the same place as long with the tattered mess that lay atop it. A small shelf in the back of the room holding pictures of the Trinity family lied just above a dying plant. Not even that had been removed all these years. It smelt strongly of peppermint, the aroma pungent because of the closed window. I could tell it had not been open for ages because a thick cloud of dust at gathered on the sill while ancient spider webs hung in the corners.
Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, I spoke with an irritated tone, "If this has anything to do with office supplies, memos, or a delivery, tell me now so I can leave and not waste any more of my time."
Trinity peered at me over the top of his glasses as he usually does. An eyebrow rose before he spoke, "I'm not here to play games, Sean. Take a seat. I need to talk to you."
I peered skeptically at him, but did as he requested. The chair was metal and uncomfortable but it was nothing worse than what I had to work in.
"There are a few things I'd like to discuss with you," Trinity continued, placing his left and right fingertips together in a business-like fashion. "We'll start off with what is most likely the biggest question: did the experiment go as planned."
I sat in silence. When a question is not asked, I vowed not to speak.
"There were but a few minor mistakes," Trinity persisted, taking my hush as an answer. "But, I assure you, they were only minor and we easily fixed them. For the most part, the boy is complete. We have run a series of tests on him; how he reacts when burned, touched, pricked, etcetera, etcetera. All results are quite satisfactory for he never even flinches when such pain is brought upon him that could bring a full grown man to his knees." The doctor's voice becomes excited, almost giddy. "Just think, Sean, with this new found knowledge we could build an army great enough that no country could stand in the way. None!"
I sighed. I would break my silent promise to myself and speak. "And how does the boy react to all of this? How does he feel when he understands that every part of his body his fraud? How does he react when he learns he is nothing but a…a…a freak?"
Dr. Trinity heaved a sigh and leaned his body over the desk. His eyes locked onto mine as he spoke, "And that is where we need you."
My puzzled features must have been enough for him to carry on effortlessly.
"The boy wishes not to speak to us, outcasts himself in his room. He has such an unnatural calm, that it frightens many of the attendants who care for him. Only on a rare occasion have we caught him speaking, and his words, I'm afraid, were quite disturbing."
I cocked my head. The matter at hand was beginning to interest me. "What does he say?"
Dr. Trinity leaned back in his chair. "He speaks mostly—which, mind you, isn't very much—about Death. He claims that 'He' is coming…only referring to it as He. We must know what he is talking about. We must help him for his mad thoughts could be the one weakness that wrecks him."
"So? Talk to him then. Don't intermingle my work with your own affairs and difficulties."
Dr. Trinity appeared as if he were expecting this comment. His face became even sterner and he looked to me as a teacher looks at the troublemaker. "Sean, you were always…" he puzzled for a word for a moment, "…different."
I sat up a little straighter in my chair.
"You always had branded yourself like that; choosing not to speak with your peers, burying yourself deep inside your books, only stopping your studies to eat and sleep. Nobody understands you—and don't get haughty with me, you know it's the truth."
I had just realized that my breathing had gotten heavier and my face was beginning to burn.
"But that is why I need you, Sean," Trinity continued, trying to calm me down with a soothing voice. "You were right when you told me those years ago, you are my best man here. And now is your time to show the others that."
"So you want me to speak with the kid?" I didn't necessarily want to hear the answer.
"They understand the boy as much as they understand you. He will trust you, confide in you. This I am sure."
I stood up from my chair. "This is a joke. You waste my time." I turned to leave.
"Sean—Dr. Hartman, please!"
I stopped in my tracks, both surprised at his begging tone and the fact that he had, for the first time, called me by my last name. "You once said you could easily replace me," I said, without turning around to face him.
"Sean, you know as well as I that you are best for this job. We need you."
There was a silence that was only disturbed slightly by the harsh ticking sound emitted from the old alarm clock that hung on the wall in front of me. I heaved a sigh. "When do I begin?"
I could tell, even without looking back, that Trinity's face had lightened, for his voice grew subtly content. "Immediately." He stood from his desk and led me out the door.
He was nearly jogging through the stretch of hallway; so anxious was he to begin my work. I had to follow in long strides, tucking my laptop safely in the pit of my arm, trying to disregard all the dazed faces that watched me pass by. A few even laughed, thinking it some prank until the stern look of Trinity made them hush into embarrassment. I could tell the doctor was getting frustrated himself, for he only picked up his pace.
He stopped in front of a steel door with a small door-peek. I nearly dropped my laptop in fury.
"You claim he does not trust you when you have his living quarters in a madman's cell!" My voice had aroused a few passerbies.
Trinity shook his head and motioned with his hand to keep my voice down. "You forget, Sean, that this boy can be dangerous. He has all the power tucked into his hands. All he has to do is find it. We cannot allow that to happen. I'll leave you in there alone. Speak with him, but do not worry. I shall have someone come by and check on you every few minutes. Quickly! We mustn't delay!" He inserted a key into the door and pulled it open in excitement. I was reluctant to enter at first, but he hastily pushed my frail body into the room, leaving me no choice but to cross the threshold.
As soon as he had pushed me in the room, Trinity slammed the door shut behind me at once. I cursed under my breath as I heard him fastening a lock. Turning around, I slammed a fist on the door, letting out a small yelp of frustration.
"Do you fear me as well?"
I was startled at the raspy voice at first, but I quickly turned around. There, on a small makeshift bed, sat the boy. His appearance startled me. He was lanky, so frail looking. Unkempt black hair tumbled down to his shoulder, a few strands spread across his face. And the face! as pale as the light emitted from the moon on a dark night! Deep green eyes dug into my very flesh, breaking into my soul and nearly breaking me down on the spot. His face was stern and cold, yet showing no hint of emotion. He sat aright, eyeing me coolly. He was dressed in a pair of casual pants and wore nothing on his torso but many wires connected to his chest. The wires linked to a computer in the far corner of the room, it's gentle hum the only thing that reminded me all of this wasn't a dream.
I ran my fingers through my hair and adjusted my glasses. "So you are what everybody is talking about." I lowered my head and whispered to myself, "How can one fear such a little boy, weak as he is?"
"So then you do not fear me?"
He had heard me. Even in the most hushed tones he had heard me. Were all of his senses as keen as his ears? Was this another part of the genetic alteration?
I tightened my grip on my laptop. "I will be fully honest with you when I say I fear what you are. But for the time being, I will make up my mind whether I fear who you are."
The boy's face never changed, keeping the same icy stare. "And I will be fully honest with you when I say that is more than a chance then any of the other's had given me."
Though his voice showed no despair, I could not help but pity him. It was as I had feared; they would treat him as some sort of freak, not a human, but a weapon…a weapon with a mind of its own. He understood all this surely, yet the confinement of the outside world seemed not to bother him.
I swallowed. Where was I supposed to begin?
"You have a snake in your soul."
I was taken aback by his sudden comment. I felt as my eyebrows furrowed and looked toward him with a questioning glare.
The boy merely stared back at me, locking his eyes on my own and then saying, without leaving my eye, "Everybody has a snake in their soul, but yours twists and wreaths more violently than others I have seen. Your snake's color is a dark green, and it keeps trying desperately to camouflage itself from the world. It is growing restless. Oh yes, it grows even more restless with each passing day. You keep putting it in a cage, trying to lock it up, but one day it shall be set free. One day, when your snake is set free, He will come."
I was speechless. What was there to say? It was now that I became frightened and panicked. It was now that the boy's stare began to unnerve me. It was now that I wanted to leave the God forsaken cell in which they imprisoned him. My chest heaved with anxiety, and I dropped my laptop. It fell with a sickening crack to the cement ground. I paid no heed whatsoever to it and stepped quickly in front of the boy. I knelt down on the cool floor, feeling a chill crawl down my back. Placing a hand on the boy's knee, I looked into the cold eyes. "Who are you?"
He looked at me for a second or two and then his gaze slipped to my hand. He looked back at me and answered, "If you are asking for my name, I do not have one."
I nodded and remembered back to the day so many years ago when Dr. Trinity had spoken to me.

“It’s always been an unwritten law that science does not mingle with the affairs of religion! By giving him the name Adam you will destroy not only the respect the media will damage, but also those of the church! You are a fool to carry on with this.”
“Then you name him, Sean.”

"Tell me,"—I had cocked my head to the side in thought—"what is a name?"
The boy had subtle confidence. He had spoken in a manner of importance and wisdom, yet he sounded like a little boy repeating words from a textbook. "A name is a title given to someone. It means nothing, just a label to identify each different person. A name is meaningless and pointless, completely unnecessary."
I nodded, a tear almost beginning to form in my eye. I quickly bit my lip; I could not allow showing any sign of weakness. "So a name is simply a label?" I could not help the quiet sob of excitement that sprang out of my mouth at the end of my sentence.
He nodded in a strange style. One nod slowly up, one nod slowly down, back to the center. "Yes. Just a label. We brand ourselves with irrelevance."
I stood to my feet, hearing exactly what I wanted to hear. "I will give you a name now. But this will be different, it will be a title that means something…that means you." I looked to him with a stern voice and said forcefully. "What are you?"
He held his head up, his emerald eyes blazing madly. I wanted to fall to my knees in such terror of the looks of his face, but some surge of courage had kept me to my feet.
"I am everything."
The way he said it! the way he emphasized power in every syllable! The room began to spin as I stood there with this assignment, fear gripping me by the chest. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Then your name shall be Omni. You are but everything."
"Omni…" He said the name, as if judging if it were suitable for him. Soon he nodded, the same nod he had done before. One bob up, one bob down, back to the center.
"I have a feeling we will be seeing each other soon," I said, choking back my tears of horror as I turned to the door and knocked, a signal to let me out. Sure enough, I saw through the peephole an assistant undoing the locks. He let me through, keeping his gaze pinned to the ground, avoiding eye contact with Omni.
I walked back to my lab in a daze. Everything seemed to be spinning inside my head. Never before had I experience such terror. But alas! It was not the cold-hard stare that he gave, nor was it his frightening features that disturbed me so. Even the pale skin did not bother me as much as the fact that lay at hand. I could not help it; I began breaking down in the middle of the hall. Tears sprang to my eyes and I ran frantically through the building, desperately trying to get to my office as quickly as possible. I saw through bleary eyes a few people peering over their cubicle, a questioning look on their face. I answered nobody's concern but kept running, gripping at my hair, trying not to scream.
I reached my office and ran inside and slammed the door shut. It was only after I locked it that I felt more at eased. I pressed my back against the door and slowly slid to the floor, wiping cold sweat from my brow. My chest had heaved so heavily that even now, as I write this, it has still not settled.
It was not the boy's uncanny features that frightened me so.
He had spoken of seeing a snake inside my soul.
And I too could see those snakes.

Life is nothing but a bridge.
We walk this earth for a very limited time. Not fully comprehending the simplicity of our lives. So short. Is this our condemning? A damnation? Perhaps. Maybe this is a punishment, to not live our lives to the fullest. It's because Death comes when we least expect it. So maybe life is the ultimate test for a better world after this. Why not simply close this world? Why should we waste time to enter the next?
Life is nothing but a bridge that leads us to Death.
Why not make the bridge shorter, and the journey more safe?

13 December, 2034
It was just this morning, when I was scooping up my newspaper in my office, did I fully realize the immense responsibility I had tucked away in the palm of my hand. Everything that this lab had studied, every year's hard work that was put into this, laid on the verge of completion or failure with my every move.
It was unusually sunny and clear for such a winter day. The sun glistened off the smooth, freshly precipitated snow, casting a blinding light in all directions. My window burned brightly in the corner of my office, emitting enough light that I didn't even have to turn on my lamp. I opened the window a bit, feeling the gentle breeze of morning, crisp and cool.
I shuffled up some papers, saved my current document on my laptop, and began heading out the door. My stomach began doing the same panicky back flips as they had the day before. I was still too uncomfortable with the kid—Omni—still, which could prove a problem in the future. I decided today I would simply get to know the boy…and his rare talent that we both shared.
I made my way to his metal door and fumbled in my pocket for the key Dr. Trinity had given me the day before. I inserted it into the keyhole and turned the knob.
Omni sat in the exact same position as I had left him yesterday, dangling two scrawny legs over the side of his bed. He greeted me again with his menacing stare saying simply, "I can't believe you're coming back."
I raised my eyebrows. Taking out my laptop, I placed it on a desk beside him and began hooking up the wires. "Why do you say that?"
"You're Snake. It's always trying to hide. You're a coward."
My hands immediately stopped. I froze in my kneeling position. Turning slowly to the boy, my body began to shake slightly. I felt my chest get heavier. Whenever he spoke of the Snakes I became vulnerable and frightened. Why?
Omni saw my tension. Cocking his head slightly to the left he glared into my eyes. The bright green orbs of his dug into my face violently. His mouth opened a little and then he finally spoke, "You see them too, don't you?"
I swallowed and nodded.
"I see." Omni turned his face away from mine and gazed out the small window that was positioned behind his bed. His eyes darted from the dying willow trees to the blinding snow that lied in a gentle rug amidst the earth, enveloping it in a gentle embrace. The shining reflection of the snow illuminated his face, causing the effect of making him appear even paler than usual. Each narrow bone in his cheek stuck out in emphasis, blue and purple veins ran across his bare chest. "They say that it's calming outside," he said, not tearing his fixture from the window, "and everything is fresh, clean…and so…alive."
His voice almost seemed dreamy, as if in a trance. I turned toward his gaze and then looked back at his eyes, yearning and wishful. They were so full of distant hope…and then it finally came across me. "They've never let you out of this room, have they?" I could hear my own voice carry a slight hint of anger.
He turned back to me, looking a little surprised, as if just remembering I was there. The look only lasted a second before he returned to his self. "No."
I inhaled with fury. "Come on," I said, ripping off the wires and chords connected to his chest, "Let me show you."
He looked dubious at first, but I quickly pulled his frail body alongside me. As weak as he was, he had no choice but to follow. Grabbing at his left elbow, I carefully crept out of the door. Looking vigilantly for any onlookers, I took off flying down the halls. I remember how hard my heart was knocking against my own chest in fear. Doing such a reckless action was enough to get me suspended from my job. I shouldn't have risked it, never would have…until now.
Miraculously, we made it to my office. I silently, but quickly opened the wooden door and hastily shuffled Omni inside, following right after him. He was calm and casual, not even thinking twice about what had just happened. Instead, he stared nonchalantly at the bareness of the room. Nothing but an empty wastebasket, five or six unused nails jutting out of the cracking wall, and my desk, clad in only a few unnecessary papers.
"Who is that?" Omni pointed to my desk. "That woman?"
I followed his gaze until my eyes rested on the framed picture that stood upright on my desk. My eyes widened slightly and my heart skipped a beat. I flashed the boy a glance and quickly walked to my desk and tipped the picture face down. I looked back at Omni with flashing eyes, daring him to ask again.
His own green eyes dug back into mine in a triumphant counterstrike until it was I who backed down.
"Her name was Celeste."
"Celeste," he repeated. His voice filled the name with a haunting shiver. He did not press the matter further.
I swallowed and made my way towards the small wardrobe found in the far corner of the room. Inside were various coats, hats, and gloves that I came with that morning. I have always kept a spare windbreaker and boots in there for emergencies. "Here," I said, passing Omni the more durable winter coat. "Put it on." After I heard the familiar noise of the zipper, I tossed him a hat. Then I put my windbreaker on and fastened a navy scarf around my neck.
Omni nodded to me to say he was ready and made his way towards the door.
"No!" I hissed, looking at him as if he were mad. I went to the window and propped it open, pointing down.
He got the hint and came to my side.
I pulled the window up as far as it could go and slipped through. Although I was on the first floor, the drop was quite steep. I couldn't land on my feet, but fell onto my back instead. Conveniently, the snow was thick enough to help aid the fall a little. I moaned as I stood up and whispered as loudly as I could, "Come on then. I'll try to catch you." I held my arms up as I watched Omni stick his pale face out of the window. His keen eyes darted back and forth, taking in every sight. It was a few moments before he finally hauled his entire body out of the window. I bit my lip and placed my body under him and attempted to catch his tiny figure. As he fell into my arms, the force of the blow sent my down to my backside once again. As soon as we had landed, Omni swiftly jumped off of me while I stood back up for the second time, rubbing at my thighs and wincing.
His face took on a whole new dimension. His eyes took on another intelligence as they scoped the smooth, freshly made mounds of snow, the leafless trees stretching their branches out in a cold welcome, the sun's overly bright rays reflecting all of the pure whiteness. If I hadn't known better, I would have almost bet that his jaw had dropped ever so slightly. All of this was so new to him. What would it really feel like to see the world for the first time?
The windbreaker wasn't warm enough for the chilly morning. I rubbed my arms in a pathetic attempt to warm up, but to know avail. Omni looked at me with slanted eyebrows.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cold," I answered, watching my breath form a cloud of condensation and then dissolve into the air.
"Cold?"
And I remembered. He couldn't feel it. That little chip in his brain wasn't telling Omni it was cold. How are you supposed to describe what coldness feels like? How are you supposed to describe anything you feel? So I didn't answer.
"Come on," I said, changing the subject. "I want to show you something."
I led him around the park that our building was stationed on. The plowed paths twirled through a sea of trees, winding in various directions. Omni seemed fascinated with the bird calls, his head tilting slightly whenever one rang out. I led him to a small wooden bench near the center of the park. I brushed the thick layer of snow off of it before sitting down and instructed Omni to do as well. He accepted the offer.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees and then placed my chin in my hands. Heaving a sigh, I spoke, "I need to talk to you."
Omni turned his head in my direction. "It's about the Snakes isn't it?"
I shuttered slightly, but tried not show it. "Yes. You see…" But I quickly stopped in mid-sentence as a woman in a business suit came power walking past. She swung a brown leather briefcase at her side while she bit her lip in anxiety. Her black boots made loud thumping noises as she quickly passed.
As we watched her walk off, I turned back to the boy. "Let's start with her."
"Her?"
"Every morning I come out here before I go to work. Every morning I see her pass by. Did you see her Snake?"
Omni nodded. "She had a Snake in her soul."
"Describe it to me."
Omni sat in silence for a minute, recalling exactly what it looked like. "It was a bright yellow and had no set pattern. It kept flinging itself spontaneously and in odd directions. The head quivered slightly."
"Yes. And what does that mean?"
This time, however, Omni took no hesitation to reply. "She is constantly looking for something, yet she doesn't know what it is. Her Snake is vicious, meaning she does not want help in her search. Because the Snake has no pattern it means she doesn't know what to do. She's lost."
I nodded. "On occasion I try to talk to her," I said, my gaze turning back to the businesswoman. "But like you said, she doesn't want it. She won't even give me her name." I sighed. "I want to help her."
"And do you understand why she won't accept your help?"
I raised my lips in a half smile and shook my head.
"She's afraid that accepting aid is accepting defeat," Omni answered. "If she believes she can't do it by herself then she will believe she can't do anything without the assist of others. She tries to be too independent. It is her weakness." Omni looked down at his feet. "I want to help her too. I want to help them all."
"Then why don't we?" I asked. At the time, everything seemed so easy. This boy just happened to walk right into my clutches. It were as if a high power had instructed all of this to happen.
"Because we don't understand."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What do you mean? You know perfectly well of what you speak."
"We don't know enough about the Snakes. What do they represent or symbolize? What is their purpose? And most of all, why is it that only we can see them?"
I lowered my head further into my heads. "I was hoping you could tell me," I mumbled into my palms.
"Do you mean to tell me that you don't know either?"
I shook my head.
Omni heaved a sigh. Then he looked at me again. "Perhaps a Snake indicates your weakness." His face brightened at his idea. "That woman's Snake showed she was afraid of others and yours shows you bottle up too much fear. Perhaps if we could find a way to reverse our Snakes' behaviors then I our lives could be fulfilled."
I looked up. "It's possible I suppose." I licked my dry lips and looked up at the sky. The clouds were gathering and becoming darker. It looked as if a storm were near. "Look, Omni," I said, fumbling in my pocket. "I want you to have this." I pulled out the silver key that was for his door and thrust it into his hand. "But you must promise me you won't let anyone know about this and be careful with it. Extra careful. I can't stress that enough."
His dark green eyes looked at the key and then back at me. "Why are you giving me this?"
"Because," I answered, "I want you to come out here more often. I want you to find out more about the Snakes."
"And why can't you simply do it?"
"I've been trying for as long as I can remember seeing them. All of my theories have been proven wrong. It wasn't until now that I knew what I lacked."
"And what is that?"
I tightened my scarf around my neck and continued, "They say with age comes wisdom…but the curiosity and imagination of a child are for more advanced than even the most intelligent man or woman." I looked back at him. "I don't believe in fortune or luck. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe everything happens for a purpose. But, Omni, I believe we were meant to find each other. I believe we are to play a big role in something…I just don't know what it is yet."

Thou who steals any of thy works shalt pay for thy Olde English lessons. © 2003 All rights reserved  

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