Baek

There's something about the sterility of the research facility that made every noise echo unnaturally, every conversation and footstep ricocheted off the whitewashed walls and polished floor. Each wall was a mirror-like plane of brushed steel, untarnished and gleaming with an inorganic glow. The material, known more for its fortitude than aesthetic charm, took on a strange beauty. Its coldness was an unyielding constant, sucking the warmth from the air, leeching the life from anyone who dared to touch it. Beneath my feet, the hard metal floor was a chessboard of steel plates. Their edges met perfectly. With each step, a resonating echo bounced back, swallowed by the gaping maw of the long hallway stretching ahead. 

I walked through this hallway, as I’ve walked through it many times before, but this time its length was daunting, stretching far into a point where the walls seemed to meet. Overhead, rows of stark fluorescent lights stretched on, casting a stark, unfiltered glow over everything. It was harsh and uncompromising, casting deep shadows that looked to be sprayed on the walls. Siwoo built it this way so that everyone who walked through would feel like they didn’t exist. Our shadows never interacted. They didn’t dance like the ones Dahyun and I saw in the cottage in response to the flickering fireplace. These shadows weren’t full of life. 

I strolled through the corridors, holding a red apple I picked up from the cafeteria. I lifted the apple to my mouth, its taut, glossy skin cool against my synthetic fingertips.Nature’s flawless design. I bit down, feeling the crisp flesh yield against my ceramic teeth.  A burst of juice filled my mouth, sweet and slightly tangy, a symphony of flavors swirling on my artificial taste buds.

The act of eating is a process I've come to appreciate. The growth of the apple, from a tiny seed in the soil to a ripe fruit hanging from a branch. The labor of the tree, its quiet endurance, bearing the changing seasons, for this single moment. And then, the cycle of consumption and growth begins anew.

Siwoo and Auntie designed me to mimic human functions, including eating, yet they never told me if I actually require sustenance in the same way humans do. I find myself pondering the consequences of discontinuing this human-like behavior. What if I just stopped eating? I mean, I do feel hunger… but is it just a line of code or a mechanical system more akin to gasoline vehicles? Is my sensation of “hunger” just my “low fuel light” in your common sedan? If I ignored the sensation– the urge, would I cease to function? Or is the act of eating a crucial part of my creators’ elaborate mimicry of human life?

But it’s not me. The other party of this dilemma is the fruit. The fruit's purpose is to be eaten, to have its seeds scattered, ensuring the propagation of the species. But did the apple tree harbor any willful desire to be consumed, or is its life solely devoted to reproduction? Organic life, driven by the need to reproduce and survive. And yet, life is not merely a series of binary functions, there is emotion, experience, growth... surely, these must factor into the equation as well. But then, where does that leave me, an artificial being? Am I simply a binary creation, or could there be more to my existence as well?

In my hands, the apple has been reduced to a core, the once juicy fruit now a mere skeleton of its former self.

The clamor of a group of scientists sprinting past me interrupted my aimless journey. Their urgency was palpable, an anomaly in the usual composed aura of the place, and the direction they were rushing towards indicated only one destination– the Gate.

Their frenzied movements tugged at my curiosity, and I decided to tail them, trailing the flaps of their lab coats. The hallway unfolded before me like a slideshow of various rooms. The robotics room echoed with the metallic clatter of gears and circuitry, the mailroom, still with its lack of human presence, and then the surveillance room. The silent hum of electronics, the flickering light from multiple screens-- a room that hated privacy.

Among the myriad screens, Dahyun's face captured my attention. It was plastered on the largest one, her image filmed from a low vantage point, presumably the rabbit’s camera. She was alone in the wild, panting heavily, clutching her leg-- a severed leg. Her foot was gruesomely disconnected from her body, lying a few feet away in the snow. A pool of red blood was slowly spreading around her, tainting the pristine white with an ominous shade. The sight was jarring, her screams ripped through my ears, her agony broadcasted to a room of unblinking screens.

Dahyun

Tears blazed a path down my cheeks as I tried to grapple with the monstrous pain radiating from my severed leg. "Dahyun?!" Minji's voice tore through the silent forest, her distress palpable.

"Over here!" I managed to choke out through clenched teeth, my body convulsing in a futile attempt to distract myself from the white-hot agony.

Minji crashed through the timberline, her face etched with fear as she fell to her knees beside me. "What did you do?!" She breathed out, her eyes wide with panic.

I could barely think through the pain, but I knew we had to move quickly. "Get...me to...the hospital." I growled through gritted teeth.

Minji's eyes darted between the grotesque sight of my severed leg and my pain contorted face. My heart pounded in my chest as every second seemed to stretch into eternity. "Minji!" I called out, snapping her out of her shock-induced daze.

Minji sprang into action, fear replaced with determined resolution. "Here!" She thrust my severed leg into my hands. "Hold onto this." Its warm calf brushed against my cheek. 

Without another word, she hoisted me into her arms, cradling me like a child as she began to run towards the Gate. As she whisked me away, I glanced back at the rabbit. It continued to stare at the crimson pool of blood staining the once pristine snow.

The Gate loomed above us as Minji carried me into the clearing, its harsh, artificial light creating stark shadows on the snow. Doctors flooded out of it, rushing towards us with urgent faces.

While Minji handed me over to them, I saw my father, Siwoo, from the corner of my eye. He was a mess - his face pale, his hands twitching restlessly as the doctors moved to put me on a gurney. The sight of him, usually so composed and in control, crying uncontrollably was unnerving.

As the doctors numbed my leg with some strange, icy salve and then tied my thigh tightly with a tourniquet, I turned back to Minji, who was now clutching my severed leg, standing with a dazed look in her eye. A slight pang of guilt hit me. She didn’t ask for this. She was probably just some woman who wished to grow her career, but now I’ve completely destroyed that prospect of her life. 

Siwoo stalks over to her, screaming, "Why! Why!" His eyes were wild, terror overtaking any semblance of sanity.

Minji faltered, "I'm sorry! I didn't think--"

"--You useless bitch!" The words were a bullet, shot out with so much rage that it seemed to echo through the clearing. And then he struck her, his hand connecting with her face with a sound that made me flinch. She staggered back, but her legs caught her before she fell. The leg dropped from Minji's stunned grasp.

Siwoo bent over, picked up my severed leg with a gentleness that was horrifying in its contrast to his previous violence. He cradled it close to his chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world. "No... no..." he muttered, his voice choking with tears. He brushed his cheek along the skin, the gesture grotesquely intimate.

Without another word, he turned and followed the doctors and me into the Gate.

With the pain dulled, I managed to stay awake as they ushered me through the halls. I compared the path they took to the mental map I had created the last time I was here. The image I have of the facility grew clearer and clearer. 

The doctors pushed me through heavy double doors and I was surrounded by a different, but similar in design infirmary. Four doctors swarmed around me, their movements hurried and purposeful. My body felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else, as they tugged and applied pressure to different parts, using instruments I had never seen before. 

 "She's lost a lot of blood-- Get me her blood!" One of the doctors shouted, a sense of panic cracking through her clinical detachment.

Another doctor quickly set up an IV. His kind eyes looked down at me as he slid the needle into my arm. Then he  placed these white patches on me, muttering softly, “Excuse me,” as he reached under my shirt. 

I held my breath. I tried to give as much room for his large hands to pass.

I felt a soft pressure as he pressed the patch on my chest, not noticing anything strange about my clothing. 

Relief washed over me as he turned to the head doctor. “Electrodes are set. Can we turn on the ECG machine?”

While the last doctor worked on disinfecting my wound, a technician fiddled with a large screen and with a beep, my heart rate was pulsing on the screen. 

The head doctor smiled at me. “You’re being awfully brave, watching all of this,” she praised as she began to unzip my jacket. "Wait-- stop," I protested, my voice coming out weaker than I had intended. My hands instinctively covered my stomach, and I heard a soft crinkle. 

"I’m just going to make it more comfortable for you," she tried to reassure me. I couldn’t tell if she heard that or not. 

"I’m cold," I managed to say through chattering teeth.

"She was out in the snow. Just keep it on for now so she doesn’t lose any more body heat," another doctor suggested. They all nodded in agreement, then turned their attention back to my severed leg. A blood bag hung beside it and some tubes administered it to my arm. 

From the corner of my eye, I saw Siwoo pacing nervously. "Is she going to be okay?!" His voice was filled with desperation.

The lead doctor took a look at the sparse medical cart, ignoring Siwoo’s childish outcry, then asked, "Is this all we have?"

Everyone nodded.

"Why don’t you have more shit?!" Siwoo bellowed, his rage echoing through the room.

"We never anticipated an injury this severe," the doctor said, her voice strained with regret. They hadn't anticipated an injury this severe because they hadn't anticipated any danger at all in their perfectly controlled environment. Yet here I was, losing blood on a thin, white bed, with doctors who had nothing but basic tools to stabilize me.

"It's all your fault!" Siwoo barked at the doctors, the desperation in his voice turning into accusatory rage.

"Mr. Ahn, there’s nothing we can do right now, except bandage the wound. Look, the bleeding has already stopped," the doctor countered, her tone calm yet strained.

Siwoo's gaze fell on my severed leg he held, then shifted to the wound where my leg once was. A doctor was wrapping it with gauze, and the red stain was taking longer and longer to show through. The bleeding had stopped, and I felt my ragged breaths gradually evening out.

"The mail truck is leaving tonight so we’ll put in a request for the equipment we need. It’ll only take a few days," the doctor explained, her tone more reassuring now.

"Days?" Siwoo echoed, his voice a mix of surprise and frustration.

"She’s stable. And we have enough here to keep her that way. Don’t worry," the doctor assured him, but it didn't seem to comfort him at all.

"Don’t worry, my baby. Appa will keep your leg safe," Siwoo murmured, pressing his hand against my forehead. He held my severed leg close to him, as if it were the most precious thing in the world, and left the room with two of the doctors.

As the door closed behind them, the head doctor let out a sigh of relief. She began to wrap my leg in gauze and bandages, her movements steady and careful.

"You just gotta make my job harder, huh, kid?" she said, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a hint of humor.

I responded with a sigh, my hand unconsciously tightening around my stomach where the envelopes were hidden. They were still there, still safe. That gave me some form of relief in this chaos.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the jacket off? The heater is on now, so it’ll get pretty warm.” The head doctor watched me by the bedside as the others cleaned up and slowly left. 

“No, I’m okay. It’s just my leg that’s messed up.”

The head doctor raised an eyebrow. “Just your leg?”

My half-opened eyes stayed locked with hers. “Mhm.” I nodded cheerily. 

As she shook her head and sighed, slowly standing and leaving the room, I found myself alone, surrounded by an unsettling silence. My eyelids fluttered, heavy with the drowsy lull of morphine and pain, as I drifted in and out of consciousness. 

I exhaled, deep and deserved. I am actually insane. 

I lay there, my gaze fixed on the surveillance camera, watching its red light blink on and off rhythmically. And I finally let sleep take me over.