I hate Sundays. It is an insultingly anticlimactic end to a highly anticipated weekend, and somehow manages to fall short of both the release of Saturday and the flow of Monday. But as I stand here in my home office, holding this piece of eggshell white paper with cursive print on, I can't help but appreciate how appropriate it is that I receive such grim news on a Sunday. It is almost poetic.
Karma is bullshit, and divine justice is a figment of scared little fools’ imagination who are too scared of facing realities of the world. This was my greatest take away from my first business venture, when my best friend and partner tricked me out of my shares to form the foundation of his empire. The experience provided me with some cold, hard facts that formed the basis of my later successes, but now I wish I believed in divine justice and all that to at least make some sense of the lab results, to convince myself that this is happening because I screwed somebody over during a merger or was too aggressive in a takeover, that there is some sense and order in all this, and I deserve it for one reason or another. But no. My rational thinking does not give in even now. I can’t help but feel proud… Hmm... Now that I think about it, cursive print is so inappropriate for lab results. This looks like a wedding invitation.
"Call Evelyn," I order clearly as I throw the heavy piece of paper on the desk and listen to the virtual assistant confirming my request and promptly calling my human assistant. I am where I am because I'm great at solving challenges. I'll still have my wits, my guts and my money. This is not over. I am not over.
"Sir?" Evelyn says hesitantly. She knows I've been waiting for the results.
"I have it," I declare. I thought my voice would be shaking, but it is not. "Dr. Monroe hand delivered it a few minutes ago."
"And what does it say?"
"I told you. It says I have it; I have the gene. My symptoms were due to its imminent expression." It is unlike her to be so slow.
"Oh... I thought you were referring to the... results the first time... I'm very sor...." She stutters.
"We will have a board meeting tomorrow,” I interrupt her. “Keep it quite for now. Inform Mark and Irena, but nobody else from the staff will know."
"Of course." She replies firmly. Good. She is back to her usual self.
I close my fingers to make a fist as I rotate my wrist inward, as if thoughtfully catching a fly, and the motion is captured by the two cameras in the room. The call is disconnected. Well, It is not uncommon for young entrepreneurs to retire in their thirties... if they are successful enough. Perhaps we can eventually spin it as me retiring? In any case, we will have to keep the real reason a secret, or else our value will plummet in the stock market and lose billions. That's just not something I'd like to risk. Capsia is my legacy. It will carry my name well after I have passed away. Our innovations in AI and robotics are set to revolutionized human existence, from nano-operations to living with disabilities and automated transportation, we are solidifying our footstep in history. Yes… People come and go, but their ideals live on. Besides, I'd rather not lose money now that my expenses are about to get even higher. What was that place's name again? Oh yeah. Oak Haven.
"Google Oak Haven."
The large screen on the wall to my left lights up, showing a website with dominant colors of green and creamy white.
"Oak Haven homepage on screen 1. A fee of 25000 dollars is requested to gain access.”
“Pay it.”
“Access granted. Would you like me to navigate?"
"No. Go on standby," I tell the virtual assistant as I grab my mouse and walk around the desk to sit on the sofa across the screen. Alright, let's see the options.... About Oak Haven... services... qualifications and rates... virtual tour? Hmm. Let me see how they want to sell themselves. *click*
A young Asian woman in her late thirties appears on the screen with a warm smile. She has her raven hair tied in a neat bun and is wearing a loose, white shirt. She has olive trousers with a sharp crease down each leg and there is a matching watch on her thin wrist. The green pants are complimented by the expensive-looking brown leather mules covering her feet.
"Hello, and welcome to the rest of your life!" She says cheerfully. *Click*
Uuuuuugh. The rest of your life? Seriously? I rolled my eyes so hard I think they almost got stuck. I'm pretty sure a bunch of interns from our marketing could have done a better job. Oh well. I don’t really have a choice now… how the mighty have fallen…. *Click*
"Oak Haven has proudly served the size-altered community for over 6 years, since the discovery of gene SGT23. We currently serve over 400 size-altered individuals, who live their lives and pursue their careers with ease and enjoy the outmost comfort at our institution. At Oak Haven, we believe that size-alteration is no excuse to change the quality of your life!"
The video is now showing images of their facilities. I can see a room with a large window on the opposite wall and what appears to be bookshelves on either side against the walls but... no, wait... They seem like dark grey boxes stacked on top of each other. The side of each box towards the open space in the center of the room is modeled like a house... there are windows of different shapes and sizes and brown doors on each one, and there is a short ledge that forms something like a balcony or, a front yard even, in front of each unit. It would almost look like a condo building if not for the comparatively huge Asian lady standing next to it. She is as tall as the building.
The camera gets closer as the woman stands straight so that her dark brown monolid eyes are at the same level as the unit on top… the penthouse. The structure seems to be made of dense, high-quality plastic. She gently taps on the door, OK seems that the door is made of real wood, with the tip of her middle finger, and an elderly man and woman open the tiny door after a few seconds. The man has grey, tailor-made business suit on, while the woman has a yellow dress with large sunflowers on it. The Asian woman’s face enters the frame… Oh my god! The tiny couple must be only 2-3 inches…. *Click*
The thought of being that small is overwhelming… To think I will be so small compared to others… I… I think I’m genuinely uncomfortable now… oh man… I guess it is finally settling in… FUCK! I need a drink.
“Minibar open.”
“You have been sober for 71 days and 14 hours. I was instructed to remind you to…”
“SHUT UP…” I yell at the virtual assistant, “and open it…. I’ve been a fool for 71 days!” Damn, there goes all that zen from the mindfulness sessions… it already feels like a lifetime ago.
I hear a small click from the mahogany minibar below the large screen. I’m not the type of man who drowns his sorrows but… I do enjoy a decent drink every now and then… especially now… Let’s see… Aha! My eye catches the unopened McAllen 1926 in the back of the cabinet. I was saving this for when my net worth surpassed 50 billion… but I think it will be too strong for me when I shri… oh sorry… when I am ‘size altered’ down to 3 inches (7 cm) tall. Who would have thought that the Time Magazine’s entrepreneur of the year ends up like this… huh!
I drop two granite ice cubes in the glass and fill it up to a third with the newly opened McAllen… I can smell the scent of smoky oak from here… oak like Oak Haven… Bah!
I collapse on the sofa as I click resume, nursing my glass of scotch.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Durand! How are you, this morning?” The giant woman asks sweetly from the couple who are standing in the doorway of their box… I mean house.
“Tres bien, Victoria. What is the plan for today?” Mr. Durand asks with a rather thick French accent as he grabs his wife’s hand.
“Today, we will take you for your monthly medical check-up, and then we have booked a message session for you both.”
“What about lunch? Did you manage to book us at Don Bruno?” Mrs. Durand asks as she grasps her gown and steps down onto the small platform/lawn in front of her house.
“It was such short notice, but we did as you instructed, Mrs. Durand!” Victoria says in a soft voice as she stretches her index finger towards Mr. Durand, who holds on to its tip as he steps down to stand next to his wife.
“That’s splendid!” utters Mrs. Durand as she holds her husband’s elbow. “We are ready!”
The close-up of the tiny couple is replaced with a wider shot from a distance and I see a tall, young woman wearing pink scrubs walk into the view. She has a white mask and white sneakers on, and her blonde hair is tied neatly into a ponytail. She is holding a plastic container of sorts in her latex gloved hands. We get a close up of Durands’ porch again.
The woman in pink holds the glass container in front of the platform and pushes it in. I hear a click, as if the container is now securely attached to something hidden underneath. She gently opens the front of the container. There are small chairs around the pod like in a limousine, and all are facing the open door.
“Whenever you are ready, Mr. and Mrs. Durand” She says politely as she moves her gloved hand away from the open door while still holding the container.
“At Oak Haven, safety and comfort are our top priorities,” Victoria reassures as the tiny couple move to sit inside the container. “We have devised scientifically backed and carefully tailored methods of transportation, medical examination, treatment, habitation, and entertainment to cater to our size-altered clients. Here, you can see one of our porters helping Mr. and Mrs. Durand into a transportation pod — a safe and comfortable way of moving the clients between different facilities!”
The Durands are now sitting inside the pod while holding hands, in an exaggeratedly affectionate manner I must add, and they have their tiny seatbelts on. The porter closes the door gently. The camera shows Victoria and the porter move in a bright corridor gently. I gotta say, the porter’s gait is very smooth… she does not have the usual swing and shifts of a normal persona’s walk… her hips and shoulders are completely still as she takes steps, preventing a bumpy ride for the occupants of the pod between her hands. The two women walk into another bright room where there are people with lab coats slowly top toeing around steel tables and shelves. The porter places the pod on a desk that is almost completely covered with a thick, velvety fabric in navy blue. She gently opens the door and steps back. A young man and a middle-aged woman in lab coats approach the pod with warm smiles. The man is holding a small box, not larger than a cup, that reads ‘X-ray machine’.
“While Mr. and Mrs. Durand are getting their monthly check-up, let me show you the spa and restaurant,” says Victoria as she walks towards the camera. The porter is staying with the pod and the tiny couple, politely clasping her hands in front of her. *Sip*
Now we see a steam room but the steam is not as thick as one might imagine. The walls are all in navy tiles and there are cubicle-like sections separated with oriental wooden room dividers. We follow Victoria into one of the spaces where a short woman is bent on a high counter in the middle. The camera zooms in on a tiny… size-altered… man who is lying on his stomach on a thick hand towel, with his butt covered with a thin strap of paper towel. The giant Filipina is adroitly messaging his shoulders with the tips of her tender index fingers and sides of thumbs, and the man moans from time to time with pleasure.
“May I turn you to your back, Mr. Shariff?” The masseur asks politely, to which the man nods. The Filipina holds the paper tower with her left hand to maintain Mr. Sharif’s privacy as her petite fingers wrap around the size-altered man and gently lift him a few inches up. She flexes her fingers a bit and the dozing off man slowly rolls to his back on the palm of the Filipina without resistance. She gently places him back on the towel, with the paper towel now covering his manhood. He lazily opens his eyes to see Victoria.
“Oh, Victoria! Did you arrange for the carpet to be delivered to my house?” Mr. Sharif asks drowsily as the giant Filipina starts messaging his feet and calves.
“Yes, Sir! Last night, our artisans finished the patterns you ordered online. It will be in your house by the time Diwa is finished.
“Excellent!” Replies the tiny as he closes his eyes.
“Glad to be of service!” Says Victoria softly as she walks away. I can see several young men and women messaging size-altered people as the camera follows Victoria. There must be at least 20 masseurs in there! *Sips*
We are now in a workshop of sorts where several people with overalls are working. Some are filing small wooden objects like miniature desks and chairs, while others are polishing small, metal vases and what seems like a cupboard or cabinet. One artisan is knitting something under a huge magnifying glass, and at the far end I can see several 3D-printers of varying sizes working.
“Our dedicated team of artisans specialize in miniature objects of highest quality!” She walks towards an old man in grey overalls who is hunched over something I cannot see. “Theo, is it done?” She asks the man.
The old man straightens his back and smiles at Victoria, completely ignoring the camera. “Yes, almost! Take a look!”
The camera zooms in on a tiny picture… a painting? Wow! It is not larger than a coin, but depicts a detailed landscape in spring with cherry blossoms and a river.
“That’s impressive!” remarks Victoria. You are goddamn right, it is! *Sips*
“Call from Mark Walter and Irena Stone” interrupts the virtual assistant unceremoniously. Great, the sooner we warp this up, the better. *Clicks*
“Put it on speaker,” I instruct the computer.
“Hey boss, Evelyn told us about the… thing… I am so sorry… don’t know what to say… I mean the odds of it happening to you of all people….” Says Mark, the CTO of Capsia Corporation. This man has basically devised our entire AI algorithm bank… and I respect him for it.
“Thank you, Mark. But gene expression does not discriminate. Irena, the meeting tomorrow must be secured at all costs! I don’t want a single fly in that room. Understood?” I instruct my chief of security. Irena is a decorated veteran who was a squad leader in the 3rd Gulf War. Apparently, she was awarded the bronze star for charging into an enemy bunker to save her captured corporal, killing half a dozen combatants in the process. I tried asking her once if she really killed 6 people single-handedly, but she refused to elaborate. She is a woman of few words and I used to be creeped out by her, but since her appointment, we have not had a single instance of corporate espionage against us. In fact, the last guy who came close to talking to AMAC Corp literally pissed himself when we left him alone with Irena for a ‘random assessment’. He was relatively unscathed when Irena’s men left him on the street outside his house, but something had convinced him to leave the tech world altogether and try his hand at running a grocery store.
“Yes,” Irena replies without any elaboration. At least I do not have to listen to this one’s awkward sympathy.
“This channel is secured at level 3, and I make sure all records of tomorrow’s meeting are encrypted and safely stored on isolated hard disks with autonomous expunge protocols,” Mark reassures me. Good. As CTO, Mark is in charge of cybersecurity, and Irena is the best head of corporate security we ever had. Nothing will leak out of the board meeting tomorrow. As for the board members… heh… they would be the last people to let the world know I have the SGT23 gene and risk losing billions.
“Excellent. Once I relocate, I will be WFH permanently. But that does not change our plans. Mark, your guys must continue to meet their deadlines… I will be checking their progress on the same bi-weekly schedule. The virtual meetings will be held according to the set schedule as well… As for the in-person meetings, I will suspend them for now until I can speak with the management of the facility I am relocating to. I am sure they have meeting rooms available for visitors.”
“Have you decided on a facility?” Mark asks curiously.
“I have reviewed a few. They are mostly owned by the same corporation, but I like the exclusivity and management style of Oak Haven the most.”
“I have heard of Oak Haven,” Irena decides to chime in. Ok, and…? Hmm. Both Mark and I are waiting for her to continue, but I guess that’s all she wanted to say.
“I’m not surprised. It is the most expensive facility for size-altered people,” I explain to her as I go back to the homepage and then click on qualifications and rates.
“Share my screen with Mark and Irena,” I say looking at the camera in the top right corner of the office. The virtual assistant must have done as commanded, because I can see Irena’s eyes are reading her screen now, and mark is getting closer to the camera while readjusting his glasses before reading it aloud: “Oak Haven services are based on a 4-tier membership system. Bronze tier: Net worth of at least 300 million dollars, and 3.1 million dollars in base annual fees. Silver tier: Net worth of at least 700 million dollars, and 6.4 million dollars in base annual fees. Gold tier: Net worth of at least 1 billion dollars, and 9.8 million dollars in base annual fees. Diamond tier: Net worth of at least 25 billion dollars *whistles*, and 20 million dollars in base annual fees. Wow!” Mark utters in disbelief as his eyes widen. “Just book yourself in the royal suite of Grand Oriental Palace Hotel indefinitely. That will be way cheaper!”
“And where in the royal suite of GOP Hotel can I find a computer, work station, bathroom, and cutlery that I can use at 3 inches tall, Mark?” I ask him. “What if their untrained staff screw up and hurt me by accident?” I swear, sometimes, I cannot believe this guy is my CTO.
“Latest estimates show that less than 0.00007% of the population in the world have had the STG23 gene expressed,” Irena declares blankly. “Many of the size-altered population were considered missing persons before the condition was identified. Have you heard about Matthew Basely?”
“No,” replies Mark.
“He was one of the first recorded size-altered individuals. His wife declared him missing and searched everywhere for him for 3 days. In the morning of the 4th day, she accidentally knocked one of her boots down a few stairs. When she picked it up, she noticed her husband’s crushed remains in the grooves of her boot. She had accidentally stepped on him, and his squished remains were under her foot the entire time she was searching for him.”
“Oh my gosh!” Mark retorts in shock.
“Thank you for the graphic description, Irena,” I tell her, hoping she realizes her uncalled for anecdote. “I really enjoy it when you suddenly decide to be so talkative.”
“My point is that we are lucky facilities like Oak Haven exist now, and you have the money to get yourself checked into the most exclusive of them. I do not hear good things about the cheaper ones.” Irena explains in a flat, factual tone of voice as a few locks of her dark brown hair fall down on her brow, as if pointing toward her dark green eyes. “You can still continue working as the CEO and live an almost normal life. I know many normal-sized people who would love to be in your shoes.”
“Yeah, anyway” I do not have time for her glass-half-full bullshit. “Make sure we are ready for tomorrow.”
“One more thing,” Mark says shyly. “When is it going to be expressed?”
“Monroe says it will happen in 6 days. That’s why I need to sort everything out by then,” I tell them.
“Understood, boss,” Irena says firmly.
“Most of our communication is online anyway!” Mark says with fake cheerfulness, “I’m sure you won’t feel much change in your new life!”
Why does everyone call it a new life if it is not supposed to be that different? Ah, fuck it. I gesture at the virtual assistant to disconnect the call as I take another sip and look at the homepage of Oak Haven. A luxury resort with custom-made houses and furniture, cutting-edge computer and satellite internet, restaurants with Micheline stars, and trained staff waiting for your orders 24/7… hmm… It does not seem that bad. If they only have meeting rooms for the occasional in-person meetings, then I don’t think I will have any issues. Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I just cancel the membership and spend that money to make this office suitable for my size… I wonder if I can get some of their staff to quit their jobs and come work for me… Hmm… *Sips*. This whiskey is smooth as silk! Let me pour myself some more….
-------
Irena and I have been waiting here for 15 minutes now. The floors of Oak Haven main lobby are made of Italian marble with dark green parallel lines decorating the edges. I personally do not like marble as it gets very slippery. Irena’s wet combat boots have been squeaking on the smooth floor the entire time we were walking towards this dark green leather sofa, and now she is standing over me like the grim reaper. I do not tell her anything because she just spent the last 4 hours driving me here, insisting that having a driver do it will compromise our little secret… as I look at her, I can’t help but think that we really need to prioritize the autopilot algorithms.. Her short, brown hair is combed back and falls down just below her ear lobes on the sides and the base of her neck in the back. Her dark green eyes are scanning as usual, this time targeting Oak Haven’s lobby. She is wearing her usual black Barka, this time over a black nitted shirt and navy, skinny fit jeans. She is most probably carrying her P8 handgun under her Barka, but I cannot see its bulge. Her black police boots are wet from the rain outside, and she has tucked in her jeans into them. At 5’6” (170 cm), her stature is not at all impressive. However, any smart man realizes with one look that she is not the type you’d want to piss off. There have been… some not-so-smart men in the company since she was hired. Her effectiveness and lack of bullshit attitude would make her one of my favorite employees if not for her factual bluntness, that tends to manifest itself regardless of context. She is turning towards me.
“You are fidgeting,” she tells me as our eyes meet.
Told ya!
“I’m pretty sure you can guess why,” I tell her as I grab the espresso cup that was brought to us by a man in tuxedo.
“I will pick you up myself if you decide you do not like it here. I am always four hours away.”
“I am pretty sure it takes longer to get the discharge paperwork done, Irena.”
“If you are not comfortable, I will get you out in 4 hours.” She says without hesitation as she looks at me, her face still emotionless.
I study her lush eyes and sparse freckles. I cannot help but smile warmly at her, appreciating the tinge of genuine caring in her otherwise flat voice. After my step father passed away, I was mostly alone in my life. Of course, as soon as my picture appeared on websites and magazines as the tech world’s new phenomenon, I discovered I actually had several relatives, but who would consider them family in their right mind? Now that she told me she is only 4 hours away, I feel a long-forgotten warmth in my heart. Perhaps I should take this chance to bond better with those around me? Make a few real friends whom I know won’t be after my money… perhaps a wife….
“Thank you, Irena. I will.” I tell her. She turns around to see whose footsteps are approaching, and I follow her gaze.
Victoria, the lady from the video, is coming towards us with man in his late 30s and a woman in her early 20s… or even late teen I would say. They are wearing white scrubs, but Victoria has a long, loose crimson gown on and the brown mules from the video. Her hair is tied into a bun again, and her torso is covered by a white shirt.
“I do apologize for the wait. We had a premature expression today, so I had to make sure everything was alright!” Victoria says elegantly as she bows. “My name is Victoria Kuji. I am the director of Oak Haven.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, madame,” I tell her pleasantly as I stand up. Irena scans the trio and fixes her gaze on the young woman to Victoria’s side.
“Please, call me Victoria,” she says she as extends her hand and I shake it. Her skin is smooth as silk, with long, thin fingers whose nails are perfectly trimmed and manicured.
“This is Irena, my head of security.” Victoria bows slightly at Irena, who shifts her gaze from the man momentarily to look at her. Irena nods briefly, and proceeds to eye the woman to Victoria’s right. Okay, now she is embarrassing me.
“Thank you, Irena. I think you can go now.” I tell her. She looks at me curiously, as if waiting for me to confirm the order.
“He is in good hands now,” Victoria says pleasantly. I nod at Irena. She extends her hand and shakes my hand firmly.
“I will send my weekly report as usual,” Irena declares before turning on her heel. I stare at her erect back as she walks towards the large entrance, quickly scanning a security guard next to a pillar… I feel a bit of sadness.
“We must proceed. The expression sometimes happens ahead of time.” Victoria says as she turns on her heel and walks towards the large double doors on the end of the marbled lobby, where two security guards are standing guard. I nod at Irena as I follow her, with the man and woman on my sides.
“We will do everything we can do make sure you have a pleasant time here, sir.” The man on my right tells me.
“I sure hope so,” I tell him. “I am paying you over 20 million dollars a year for it.”
“You are a diamond member?” The girl to my left says abruptly. I look at her: She is 5’3” ish (160 cm) with light brown hair in which she has woven golden threads. Her hair is gathered behind with two thinly braided strands of her hair on either side, which form a knot behind her head. Yep. Although she is wearing a white surgical mask, she must be around 19- or 20-years old max. She has large, hazel eyes that are further accentuated thanks to her black eyeliner. Her white skin turns slightly red around her mask as she meets my gaze, and she lifts her hand to readjust her mask. Her small fingers have a few silver rings on them with the nails painted black. She notices I am still looking at her, and steals her gaze hurriedly looks down immediately. I chuckle heartily as we walk on, suddenly feeling better.
We enter a corridor and pass several rooms and halls and many doors with card readers next to them. Finally, Victoria stops behind a sliding glass door. The glass is opaque and we cannot see the other side. Victoria uses her access card and the door slides open. Inside, I see a hospital bed with a variety of monitoring equipment. There are two men in lab coats waiting next to the bed. They bow to me as soon as they see me.
“Please lie down in the bed while we make preparations. The prognosticator has estimated your expression to be at around 5 pm, but it is not uncommon for it to be up to 2 hours earlier or later. We must be ready for your safety.”
“Sounds good to me!” I tell her, trying to ignore my rapid heart beat, as I walk towards the bed.
“Sir, you need to take off your clothes,” one of the men in lab coat tells me.
“Okay, where is my gown?” I ask.
“There is no gown,” Victoria replies. “We do not want to risk suffocation in the folds of the gown after your size-alteration occurs. That is why there is no blanked either, but please do let us know if you would like the room to be warmer.”
I feel kinda weird getting naked in front of Victoria and especially that young girl, but these are medical professionals, I guess. Alright, let me take off my favorite shirt and dress pants. I hope the tailor here is as good as my old one….
I am now lying in bed, hooked up to all sorts of monitoring machines. They thankfully gave me a small towel to cover my penis, so I have no complaints for the time being. Wait, I can see Victoria walking toward me with the young girl. They are holding some… fabric?
“With your permission, we need to apply a 4-point restraint for your safety. Many people start kicking and squirming during their size-alteration, injuring themselves in the process,” Victoria explains.
“Ummm… OK? go ahead.” I tell her. The young girl starts tying my ankles to the bed frame while Victoria swiftly ties my hands.
“I hope it is not too tight, sir?” Victoria asks. I give her a thumbs up with my tied hand. She smiles as she turns away and grabs something from a bed table nearby. She is turning back toward me again… she has an IV.
“Now, I will place the IV line to keep your body hydrated for the process, as you cannot drink or eat anything for the next few hours.”
“What if I shrink with the needle still in me?” I ask her, looking at the ominous needle.
Victoria seems to ignore my question, but one of the men in lab coat answers me instead: “Sir, it is called size alteration.”
I lift my head to see the asshole who decided to chime in, but I see the young girl standing at the foot of the bed with her mask off. “Don’t worry. We take very good care of the diamond members.” She says, her pink lips forming a cute little smile.
“Veeery good care,” Victoria echoes from above me. I drop my head back onto the pillow.
I push to see if I need to pee…. Hmm… not really. Good. I’d rather not spend my first moments as a tiny person sitting in my own piss. Victoria skillfully places the IV – I barely felt it – and she is now grabbing a… syringe… from the table. I sense movement on the other side and turn my head left to see the young girl is now standing over me. She is looking down at me with a faint smile. I smile back. She is kinda cute, albeit too young for me. I wonder what her name is? I should ask her…. I turn my head right just in time to watch Victoria inject the syringe content into the IV bag. I didn’t know I need medication for the expression? Is it supposed to hurt?
One of the men in lab coat is bringing over a tray… I cannot tell if it is the same guy Irena was looking at… my… my vision is getting blurry… I…. Fuck, I can hear the beeping getting faster… my heart rate… calm down... calm down….
“It’s starting!” I hear somebody says. Who? My… my heaaaaaaad…. AHHHHH…. EXplOding……
“Wha….” I canot foces…. I tern mey hed… right to… and be… Vic… injects… the bag…I…V… I feel… naug… oh god… see… her… face… ovv…er…
“Wha… what is y…. you….your nameeeeee?” Sh… young…. Smiling… eyes… hazel… br…bright…..eev…..
A vague cloud is hovering over me. My eyes are open, but I cannot focus on anything. How long was I out? Why am I here? What are those things in the sky?
The vagueness recedes as multiple visages of the same pattern merge to form clear images on my retina. An eternity above me, there are two pairs of black eyes that are piercing through me. “Welcome to the rest of your life,” she says, as a gigantic white hand with perfectly manicured nails descends from the heavens and wraps around my naked body.