It's ten minutes past noon. At least, that's what the clock on her wall told her.

Amy goes about her usual afternoon routine; slides the tray of her eaten breakfast down the cleaning hatch, puts her dolls in a straight line on her bed, tidies away her clothes and books, and begins to do her arithmetic assignment from her father. Today's work is from bases. It's a hard problem because Amy needs to remember the steps her father wrote down a week ago on a piece of scratch paper. It is supposed to be an easy one, according to her professor of a father; 342-173 in base eight.

"Let’s see, I can't take three from two, because two is less than three, so I look at the four in the eights place. That makes four eights, so I'll make it three eights, regroup, and change the eight to eight ones. And I add two to get one-two base eight, Which is ten base ten, take away three, that's eight? No, seven, I think."

Amy groans in frustration. She hated math. Perhaps she was as dull as her father claimed.

"The answer you're looking for is 147, I believe." Amy whips her neck around at the sound of a male voice.

"Oh, thank you." She scribbles down the answer before her hand jerks to a stop. Panic floods her mind. No one should be here with her, let alone speaking to her. She brandishes her pen in her normal hand, as if it's a formidable weapon, and walks around the room.

"Who are you and where are you hiding?"

"I'm right here, Amy!"

She looks to the bed, where her window used to be. Could it be from outside? Impossible! The idea is absurd. Her father sealed it off to prevent anything from getting in or out, even the sound of a bomb going off from the nearest house. She crawls underneath it

"No, it's me, Phoenix, you git! " Amy scrambles from under the bed and kneels beside it to observe the doll in question. She is in the same position that she’d been all day, except this time, her arms folded across her chest, the same way when she was in the box. Her eyes and lips are the same as well, and yet, they convey the slightest hint of annoyance somehow. Amy is dumbstruck, unable to get up from the floor or pick the doll or do anything. She rubs circles in her eyes, hoping that she hasn't fallen asleep again doing a math problem.

"What, you've never seen a talking doll before?" Her lips didn't move as she spoke, yet Amy could hear her. She shakes her head furiously.

"None of my other dolls can talk. Or move. Dolls aren't supposed to speak. How are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Talking. Your mouth isn't moving, and yet, you can speak to me." That earned her a laugh

"Isn't that the million-pound question! I really don't know. I can't remember much from my old life"

"Why do you sound like a boy? Aren't you a girl? And what do you mean by 'old life'?"

Phoenix pauses.

"I remember being a boy a before I got here. I can remember being in school and doing a math class. Now I'm trapped in this body just like the others."

"Trapped? What do you mean trapped?" Amy's confusion is hard to miss. How can a doll be trapped?

The doll looks as if he realized "I've said too much. You should go back to work."

"I don't understand. Why can't you explain-?" Phoenix shushes her.

"Quiet! He's watching us right now."

"Who?" But Phoenix has ceased to speak. Amy shakes her, puts her ear to her chest in hopes of something

Amy works for a few more hours in silence, scrawling nonsense on the side of her book. She can't seem to focus on anything but what Phoenix was rambling on about. Who was watching them? Amy hasn't seen any cameras around in her room. And she is sure that.

The pounding sounds from the door are louder, quicker and more frantic than normal. Amy finds this odd. He shouldn't be here yet. She still has some food left in the pantry, and it's still eighteen after two.

"Father?" With that, the door swings open. Her father speeds across the room.

"What are you doing back so early?"

"Oh, I forgot something and decided to stop by."

"Alright, Dad." She tries to go back to work and ignore him as he looks over at the dolls on the bed. He snatches Phoenix from the rest and inspects him carefully.

"How are you liking your new doll?"

"Do NOT tell him I spoke to you!" Phoenix voice comes out like choked scream. Even as Amy watches her father's hand squeeze around her thin neck, she can see her pale face twisted in fear. Except that can't be right, Amy ponders, for the face of the doll remains fixed in its expressionless form. How, then, is she able to convey horror and fear without moving her face? Amy pushes the truth deep down her throat.

"She's lovely, Dad. I think she's the best one yet."

"Even better than Charlie?" He glances at the oldest of the collection, the wool rag doll that Amy has made her sidekick.

"Anything you like most about her?" He watches her closely

"Her dress is very lovely."

"Anything else?" He's closer now, casting a dark shadow over her with his tall frame. She hears the whispers from her dreams, all chanting in unison with an odd rhythm

"Beware, young girl."

Amy swallows again. Lying to her father never made her feel good.

"No, not really. Why, did you add anything extra to her?" His eyebrow quirks up and for a brief fraction of a second, a look of disappointment and frustration paints his face. And then, it is replaced by an imitation of his usual smile. Amy knows that smile and her heart hammers in her chest.

"I was just curious. Wanted to make sure you liked my gift. You always like my gifts, right, Amy?" A hand pats through her hair as if to comfort her. The hand pauses just above her sensitive side of her scalp.

"Yes, sir."

"And you'd never lie to me about anything, right, Amy? Because you know what happens to little girls who lie." The hand in her hair tightens and yanks upward. A whimper of pain is caught in the back of Amy's throat. She considers telling him the truth and only receiving a reduced version of the punishment he would lash on her. But she remembers how utterly terrified Phoenix was and changes her mind.

"No, I would never lie to you." The grip on her hair unravels and she sighs with relief.

"Make sure you finish your work before I come back. And no mistakes." The door slams shut, and the locks click all at once. Amy is still shaking in fear, nerves shot from the tension. He might still punish her if he suspects she's lying

From the behind the cloud of tears that form in her eyes, she can see Phoenix on the floor with a look of relief and pain. She cradles him in her arms and holds him close.

"Don't worry." She whispered. "You won't be hurt anymore. I'll take care of you."

*

The glow of the large computer screen did nothing to brighten up the darkness that hung in the basement. It changed colour as the man in front of it tapped keys and clicked buttons arranged in a haphazard array on the ancient wooden desk.

He knew he saw it. He knew he saw her communicate with the vessel. It wasn't the same as with the other failed ones. He saw a difference with the way she picked it up and talked with it. It wasn't a silly made-up conversation. It was a real one like she was talking to a normal person. This was the reason she was isolated, after all.

Even if he knew what he saw, it wouldn't mean anything if he couldn't prove it to the others. Scientific study is meaningless without tangible evidence, his research professor used to say. She was always so brilliant and powerful. He'd do anything to please her.

"Amanda, please show me if there is any communication with the vessel."

Silence.

"Amanda, do not make me force you to do this."

Again, his threat is met with resistant silence

From a compartment underneath the large desk, he seized a long metallic rod from it. He tuts and shakes his head as he twirls it around his bony fingers.

"25 years and you still choose to act like a naughty child!"

He brings the metal object close to his neck scar and lets it hover

"This is your last chance, Amanda. Show me or I will make you."

His left eye rolls around its edges and blinks erratically. The man winces in pain but laughs all the same.

"Amanda, so good of you to show up. I thought I'd have to use your mother's wand to make you listen, and pity, I've actually come to enjoy using it on you" He twirls the wand again looking wistfully at it. "Now, then, tell me what you see."

"The girl's power has been awoken." The deep choked voice came from the man's open mouth. He did not will the voice from his throat.

"Show me what you see." His hand moves around the keys without any of his willpower and they type in code. His pupils were blow out till the brown that surrounded them was no more than a thing ring. The screen went from black and white to infrared. Colours swirled in different patterns on the screen

"There, do you see the energy? It correlates with the conversation timestamps"

"Yes, yes, I'll bring that in a graphical projection."

As he typed in codes, this time through his own will, he re-listened to the conversation the subject had with the vessel.

"What do you mean by trapped? I don't understand. Why can't you explain- Who?"

The video paused with a push of a button. He leaned back into his chair, contemplative and arms crossed. His teeth pulled at the flesh of his worn lips anxiously.

"That vessel is interfering. I thought the procedure would keep it from remembering any of the processes."

"The book never said the process was sure."

He turned to his printer, ripped out the freshly made charts of blues and purples and oranges, and studied them closely. He reset the clock in the subject's room to show nighttime so that her sleep cycle could begin.

"Let's just hope for the subject's sake it doesn't skew my data."

"What will you do with the girl- I mean the subject?"

"You're not concerned about the poor subject, are you?" He barked out a laugh as if the idea was incredulous. "Don't worry, I won't get rid of her just yet for lying. She's still very useful. Better than the first ones, too. But I do worry she will try to escape, especially where the vessel is concerned."

He swung his chair around to a mirror with a crack that split it right through the mirror. He looked

"If anything goes wrong, if she even suspects a thing, you know that it's your turn to dispose of her."

"Let's hope nothing goes wrong, then." Amanda is careful to not observe too closely. Whatever she sees, he sees.

His left eye twitched and fluttered again, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He wished Amanda would stay a little longer. It got lonely in the basement these days, save for the dust on his workbench, the spiders that hung from the shelves filled with samples and paint, and of course the picture of his beloved professor.

He watched the subject through the computer screen with something akin to joy in his heart. It was the first time he had felt this way since the start of the experiment. He finally had something to show for three decades worth of work.

He hoped it would be enough for Dr Steele. That all his results from the would prove to her that he wasn't worthless, that he didn't deserve to be fired from his position at the University. That his research would do great things and the ends really did justify the means.