Specimen

The smiling face of my mother as she lifts me into her arms.

My sister, newly born, and my father instructing me on how to give her a bath.

Holding my sister’s hand as we walk to school and hoping none of my friends see us.

The deep ache in my heart when my father tells me mother isn’t coming home from the hospital.

The invasion of our land. My father and other neighbors meeting in secret. Men in suits followed by men in uniform coming to our farm and dragging my father away.

“Take care of Amelia,” he tells me. “Protect the farm. You’re the only son.”

I see myself kneeling on top of his unmarked grave, crying out, “I tried, Dad. I swear I tried, but I couldn’t stop them! I failed. I failed her, and I failed you.”

A man in a black robe, looking down on me from above.

“Galen Michael Braggs, you are hereby sentenced to life’s end. Your body will be turned over to the Mills Conglomerate Medical Center to fulfill your oath of loyalty in whatever manner they see fit.”

Fear. Unmitigated terror. I’m strapped to an operating room table. They won’t tell me what they’re going to do. I scream and scream, but no one listens.

As the memories ebb and flow, I’m aware of the world outside my head. I hear familiar voices, recognize scents, and see faces I should recognize, but I can’t make sense out of any of it.

“So, here’s what’s supposed to happen: there’s webbing—more like a chain link fence, really—that’s built around his existing memories. It acts as a set of pathways. Whenever his brain tries to access a memory, it hits the fence and is diverted back to the primary implant.”

“So all the information is still there?”

“Yes, but locked behind the fence.”

“So, what? The fence came down?”

“More like there’s a big-ass hole in it now. Everything is leaking through.”

“Is that why he’s nonresponsive?”

“I’m not inside there with him. I can’t tell you what’s going on in his head. I can only give you the results of the diagnostic.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Not with the current implants. They’d have to be replaced, if that’s even possible. I don’t think there’s any way to repair them. Even if I could, we still don’t have the right drug treatment. You can’t have one without the other. In the early trials, something like this happened. All those guys ended up incinerated. Fucking Mills.”

The sounds fade. The only scents are the stale odor of the blanket pulled up to my chest and my own body. I can’t move. I can open my eyes, but the visual input just buzzes around in my head, meaningless and vague.

Keeping my eyes closed feels better. Sleep comes, but it is as confusing and restless as being awake. There are images of a beautiful woman who holds me through the pain of transformation. The touch of her skin electrifies me. I know the woman is Riley. I want to grab hold of her and never let go, but the thought frightens me as much as it entices me.

I see myself above her naked body. She smiles up at me with dark, hooded eyes. Her fingers trace my jaw as she pulls my mouth to hers.

She lied.

I remember the first time I saw her. She was wearing a surgical mask, but I remember her eyes. She smiled and told me to relax. She said everything would be all right when I woke up.

She lied, she lied, she lied.

“Shh, you’re all right.”

“She lied…”

“Can you hear me? Talk to me, Galen.”

The sound fades. I’m not even sure if it was real or just part of another dream. I’m sure I’m still a prisoner in a cell, and I can’t trust anyone around me. I need Riley, but I don’t know if I can trust her either.