L.I.F.E.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The sound of my heels on tile as I walk down the halls. I stop at the entrance to the wing I was assigned to years ago. I pressed my I.D. card to a scanner twice until it flashes green. I push my hand to a panel and wait for a beep. I speak my name to a recorder, “Evangeline Wright.” I hear the familiar clunk of dead bolts and the two steel doors permit me access. I am greeted by fellow doctors as I walk past bed after bed after bed. I stop at the one with the pretty little blonde.
“Oh good, you’re here. I need to go soon.” My friend Angel says to me as he gets up from the chair.
“Yes, I’m sorry. They were extra friendly with the pat down today.” I say.
He chuckles and hands me a clipboard. “Well you need to stop trying to sneak snacks in here.”
I scan the machines. “How is she?”
Angel does a once over of all the equipment while talking. “She’s fine. All her vital signs are normal. She had two anxiety induced attacks from the job interview she had. Other than that; everything has been fine.” I nod and look over the breakdown of emotions and thoughts for the day so far.
“I’ll let you go then. Have a good afternoon.” I say as I notice his feet are slowly inching away from me.
“Thanks. I’ll see you!” He says, and walks off quickly. I look at the third person monitor and start to set up.
“Okay, babe, let’s see how things go from here.” I begin to run through the routine that comes as easily to me as breathing now. Check vitals; write them down. Once over the body to make sure nothing is moving, clothes are clean, and nails and hair don’t need to be clipped. Check the time on all monitors to be sure they are aligned with real time. After that, it’s time for me to set up my post.
I settle into the leather rolling chairs at her bedside and begin to stare at the monitors religiously. It’s my job, but I wish I could say that was the only reason I pay such close attention. Her life is laid out before me in vivid color and clarity.
At this very instant, she is convincing herself to walk over to a trash can and throw away the napkin that’s been in her hand for several blocks of walking now. I chuckle softly, “Come on, babe. you can do it. No one is going to judge you.” I often whisper words of encouragement though I know none of the patients in this ward can hear me.
I reach up to the internal dialogue monitor and plug a pair of ear buds into my ears. This way, it will be easier to keep track of things. I hear her thoughts fill my head - the words she speaks, the things she hears. I can experience them all. It’s almost as if I’m the one walking along the city streets.
This is what reading in first person feels like, except I am also the author in this story - all she sees, all she hears, and all she feels. Every experience. I write it all down. She runs errands. Eats at restaurants. She gets calls and texts from her friends and family. It still shocks me how real the simulation is.
For as long as I can remember, this project has been going on. “L.I.F.E” is what the project is called, Lucid Integral Fundamental Experiment. We submerge children as soon as they are born into the L.I.F.E simulation, and we record what happens up until their end. We do this so people evolve safely in hopes of one day starting the awakening, bringing them into reality, so that they may live in harmony with one another.
This all started because of a war that was too gruesome and cruel for mankind to recover from on their own. World War X is what we called it because these silly little babes almost forced themselves into extinction. That’s why we stepped in. Hate had gone too far; we thought they could handle it on their own, but we were wrong. Now, while several teams rebuild earth, we make sure people, like Ivory, live L.I.F.E. so that it can expose them to experiences they won’t forget, even if they wake. It’s safe.
Though everything is real to them, it isn’t real life. We, as doctors, have no control over the simulation or what happens inside it. It seems entirely random for each person. Among the secrets that I hold for this place, I have one that could lose me everything.
“Ivory, come on, deep breaths. I know it’s scary; you’ll be fine.” I say to the monitor of a scared blonde girl walking the dark streets. Its night, and she has no car. She walks home every night, but, for some reason, tonight her fear feels different. I write down everything that’s happening - the emotions, the time, heart rate, her breathing. I clutch my clipboard and watch every screen fervently. I see a man walking behind her, and my heart drops.
“No…” I whisper the clip of the keyboard digging into my palms. Her internal thought process has stopped. She’s terrified, currently trying to register if she does, in fact, hear footsteps behind her without daring to look back. I am standing close enough to the screen to hurt my eyes.
“No…” my heartbeat matches hers, and my breathing is short, “Run,” I plead, but she continues to walk, her pace only changing slightly. He follows her. He closes the distance with every step he takes. He grabs her as they turn a corner. He covers her mouth, and her muffled scream echoes in my ears as if it were my own. He drags her kicking and punching into a nearby alley. He has done this before.
I know I should be writing all this down, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed. He begins to hit her repeatedly. I look down at the girl in the bed, so silent, so unchanging, you’d never guess what was going on in her head.
“It’s just a bad dream,” I tell her frantically. Several screens go black as he lands a punch that knocks her unconscious. “No!” I scream, letting my clipboard fall to the ground. I feel the eyes of several other doctors on me. I don’t care. I can’t watch this! I can’t watch them hurt her! He begins to pull off her clothes, and I snap. I grab her shoulders and shake. Then I say the two most taboo words in the facility.
“Wake up!” I begin to unhook all the equipment that’s attached to her pretty little head. I feel my colleagues grabbing me; I shove them away punching and screaming. It’s too late for me. I’ve already gone over the hill 9maybe better to say, “I’ve crossed the line.”
“They can’t do that; it’s too cruel! I can’t watch this happen! Let me help her!! Please! Wake up! Wake up! It’s not real!” Somehow, I pull the main circuit in her head free, and I see her eyes snap open.
Everything goes still as she sits up. “Where..? What…?” Her eyes search all of us, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Code gray!” someone shouts, and they all tackle Ivory and me. I feel a sharp prick on the back of my thigh at the same moment a doctor stabs a needle into Ivory.
“It’s okay…” I manage to say before my eyelids drop.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. The sound of my bare feet slapping the cold tile. Two guards walk me to a room every doctor here knows too well and fears more than death itself. Once you come here, you never come back the same. It’s almost as if they steal a part of you. A guard opens a door and leads me in. I see my boss in a pale yellow suit, ever the depiction of peace.
“Have a seat.” He says to me as if I have a choice. “Leave us.” He motions for the guards to exit.
“As you well know, Miss Wright, you took an oath upon entering this group,” He begins, his voice steady and light. “Can you repeat the third line of the oath to me now?” He asks. I scowl at him then catch myself. I may not like being spoken to as a child, but I deserve his reprimands.
I nod. “I shall not wake a patient or interfere with the simulation for it is good, and wants good just as I.” I squeezed my hands tightly together.
“You know it well. Your record, other than this one incident, is flawless. Excuse my curiosity, inappropriate as it is. I can’t help but wonder…why? What made a perfect worker defy the oath you took?” he says, and I nod once more.
“It was an impulse, sir. I never meant to wake her. I simply…lost control.” I say defeated.
“You know the punishment for waking a patient. Excuse me if I don’t believe it was momentary insanity.” He touches my hand and smiles sadly. I yank my hand away. How dare he pretend to pity me?!
“I only wanted to protect her.” I manage with tears welling in my eyes, though I’m not sure why.
“Thank you,” he says standing, “I’ll bring in Miss Gale. I feel you two have much to discuss before the inevitable,” he says, and I turn.
“Sir-!” he pats me on the head as if I were his child and walks silently out of the room. I should have never woken her. I squeeze my eyes shut and put my head in my hands. Soon, I hear bloody screaming from the room next door. I snap my head up in fear.
“Tap on the far wall, Miss Wright,” I hear through an overhead speaker. I take a moment to gather myself and then I stand. Every step I take towards this wall feels like my feet are trying desperately to hold me back. I raise a shaking finger to the wall and, with a muffled thud, it turns clear. I gasp when I see her on the other side. Her wavy blonde hair frames her face perfectly. I can’t stop staring at her high cheek bones and her deep green eyes. I always wanted to look her in the eyes for myself, but now, with the hatred that’s burning in them, I wish she were still asleep.
“You!” she charges at me so fast I back up. She slams her fists on the invisible wall. She looks frightening. Her hair hangs over her face casting a shadow on her eyes. “I saw you there when I woke up. Tell me what this is! Where am I!? I know this isn’t a regular hospital!” she yells at me, and I can see her shaking. She is as scared as she is angry.
“Calm down, babe,” I say, and she bangs on the wall, startling me.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! The last thing I remember is being attacked by some guy on the street. The next thing I know, I’m here in a hospital with people unwilling to tell me anything! Please… what’s happening?” she asks, tears falling from her red and swollen eyes. I wish so badly to hold her and tell her everything will be alright. I’m glad I can’t. I don’t want to lie to her.
“Tell her everything,” I hear the speaker voice say again. I wish I could refuse. I pull my hair, and I cover my eyes with my hands.
“Okay,” I whispered, and, with that, I begin the story.
We are there for hours as I explain everything. When I’m done, she looks at me with disgust.
“You are all monsters,” she says before she throws up for the third time in a bucket next to her. “You expect me to believe that bullshit!? That you all are other worldly beings just trying to protect the human race?!” she screams at me.
“Yes. It’s the truth,” I say, shaking from head to toe. I still haven’t told her one thing.
“And if it is, you all are worse than humans. You watch our pain, our struggle, with all the power you have, and you don’t help! You…you might as well be computers,” She says putting her head in her hand.
“Tell her,” I hear the speaker say; my throat constricts.
“No…” I say, squeezing my nails into my arms.
“Tell her,” It repeats. I want to scream.
“And now,” I say, my voice like a door that needs oil, “since I woke you up, they will erase my memory of you and assign me to new patients.” She stares at me and I can tell she is trying desperately to make sense of everything.
“What about me? What will happen to me?” she asks, reaching up and putting her palms flat against the wall. I rise onto my knees like her. Slowly and carefully, I align my hands with hers. She looks like she wants to move, but she doesn’t. Tears crawl down my cheeks into my mouth willing me to say it.
“They…have to…kill you,” I say and drop down hiding my face between my knees. I hear her screams and the scuffle of many feet as they enter the room. A fight goes on for an eternity of maybe five minutes, but every second might as well have been an hour. I look up just as the doctors pin her to the ground on the other end.
“No! No! You evil bitch! This is all your fault!” she yells and, as soon as she finishes her sentence, the life leaves her eyes.
I scream as I look at them abandon her body there on the floor and leave the room. I yell apologies and hit the glass until blood stains it. My throat is raw and my eyes burn. I hear the door click open behind me, and I turn quickly.
“She didn’t do anything,” I whisper to my boss. He walks in and stands over me, holding out his hand. I take it, and he helps me up.
“You know we can’t put people under once they’ve woken,” he says, softly cleaning the tears that roll silently down my face. Multiple people roll in a bed and all kinds of machines. I feel like a rag doll as my boss leads me to the bed, wishes me luck, and leaves. They hook me up with all kinds of wires on my head. I lay down, and they tell me to stay still while they puncture my arms with needles. I’m ready to erase this experience from my mind.
“It was just a job. Three years watching her through that machine,” I say though no one is listening, “and maybe a little part of me fell in love with her because I wished she knew who I was.” I turn my head and see another team has picked her up onto a gurney. They cover her head with a cloth and then wheel her away. “Until she did.” I close my eyes, remembering her most happy memories for her until…
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