Finally, a light! Increasing in intensity, the bright white light shone through two thin horizontal slits, like slowly opening sleepy eyes to the new dawn. Jack sought to cover his eyes, forgetful of his apparent detachment from his limbs.
He strained to see through the rays of light. He felt like it had been so long since he used his eyes, the pain was like a stabbing in the front of his mind; like a thousand needles jabbing at his brain. He tried to close his eyes, to shy away from the brightness but he had no control.
Everything around him was a blur, blotchy patches of white and grey. It was like looking through water. His eyes had welled up with tears, he realised, to counter the dryness that built up from what felt like years of disuse.
A hand, his own, reached up and rubbed at his eyes. When they moved away, things seemed a little clearer. Two tall white blobs moved into view. On top of these shapes were pinkish blotches mixed with brown... people? He blinked a few times. That improved things a little, helped to confirm that these were indeed people. One of them was speaking but he hadn't gotten round to being able to hear yet. His eyes closed slightly, squinting. No help. He tried to lip-read but without success.
"I don't understand!" he shouted, but they didn't seem to hear. "I can't hear you!"
There was no response.
The anger was coming back.
* * *
"He's disoriented."
"Of course he is," snapped Dr Bennett. "He's been in a coma for nearly a month!"
"I am aware of that."
The subject just looked at the two of them bleary-eyed and confused. He stared at them, trying to understand; his mouth trembled with the effort to speak but nothing came out. Dr Archer placed her hand on top of L/XT-0117159's own and held it gently, the weak man looking down at the hand in silence.
"He has no idea where he is," she whispered. "You go and report to Administrator Calvert, I'll stay here and try to get some sense out of him."
"Fine. Just be careful, he's a killer!" were the parting words from Dr Bennett.
Archer just shook her head and looked back at L. L eyed her with a strange gaze that held no suspicion or anger, just pure... innocence? She looked back into those curious, almost golden eyes. The unique colouring was something they'd seen when L was examined initially but to look into those eyes when a conscious, living mind looked back was simply breathtaking.
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything is going to be okay."
The look on his face said otherwise.
* * *
After close observation of the test subject for two days, Dr Archer visited L/XT-0117159 to assess his mental condition. It was the first time she'd seen L since the first day he woke up. When she entered the secure room the subject was propped up with pillows, pushing some soggy, over-cooked vegetables around a plate. He had pushed away the bed table and chosen to eat with the plate in his lap instead. He looked up and Archer gave him a bright smile. His expression didn't change but he placed the uneaten food on the table beside him. She saw that he had been sick, missing the bed but unfortunately missing the paper bowl too.
"Hi, I'm Dr Archer. How are you feeling?" she asked, ignoring the smell.
"Great."
His voice was hoarse, it was hard for Archer to tell if he was being sarcastic or just optimistic. Probably being sarcastic. Bad question to ask a guy who just woke up from a coma, she mused. "Are you in any pain?"
He shook his head.
"Can you tell me your name?"
A pause. His expression turned to one of frustration, then a flash of surprise. L shook his head.
"We don't know your name either," she said. "We've been calling you L."
"Why?" he croaked.
Dr Archer smiled. "It's a shortened version of the patient designation code you were given when you arrived."
"Why am I here?"
"You were hurt. Badly. Stabbed through the heart. At least, you should have been if you were normal," as she spoke the words her eyes widened. "I'm sorry! I- not to say you're abnormal! Not at all! You're just a bit different..." How far into my mouth will this foot go? She sighed, trying to relax. "I'm sorry, let me expain. You have an unusual heart defect called dextrocardia, meaning that you were born with your heart is on the right side instead of the left."
His expression remained unchanged - flat and uninterested.
"There was some internal bleeding of course, minor in comparison to what damage could have been done but still sufficient to put you in a coma for the past few weeks."
Still nothing. She looked at him for a moment. "Oh," he finally said.
Archer waited patiently for L's questions, but they never came. She studied his face as he did hers, and no words were exchanged for some time.
"Well?" she asked.
"'Well' what?"
"Don't you have questions? Like about where you are, what we're doing to fix you?"
"I don't really care," he said "I'm sure you're helping."
Weren't post-coma patients supposed to be traumatised in some way? At least slightly concerned? "I... uh, we aren't sure if you're back to 100% after the coma. You may have some brain damage. Look into the light," she said, taking the tiny flashlight from her front pocket. She flashed it over his eyes a couple of times each, then pocketed it again. "Fine. We'll need to schedule you in for some more tests, but we'll do this later when you're feeling a little better."
"Okay. I'm tired," he said quietly.
"Of course! I'll come back to check on you in a few hours, okay?"
He nodded. With a smile, Dr Archer left the room, taking the thoroughly prodded food with her.
L sat still for a few moments. Listened. Waited. The sound of footsteps beyond the heavy door drifted away into silence as L remained peacefully seated in the bed. After he had deemed enough time had passed, L threw the covers from himself and took the plastic knife he'd concealed in the space between his legs. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, L stood up and moved towards the door. He hadn't noticed, until now, the IV hooked up to his arm; the drip stand almost falling as L inadvertently pulled it after him. He grunted and ripped the cannula out of his wrist.
He had been supplied with some synthetic white trousers and matching v-neck tunic. He also wore similar undergarments, he discovered. These were not comfortable. At all.
The tunic was flecked with red. Odd. He had not noticed this before. More, there, on his leg. And sleeve! His hand was wet... Oh. Where the cannula had been yanked out there was a steady gout of blood.
Nevermind.
He ignored it. There was much to be done. Wasting little more time, L moved to the door and got to work with the knife, quickly manipulating the simple locking mechanism. The door popped open. L pulled it open and peeked out.
He hadn't seen any of this before. He hadn't missed much, the plain white walls, black- and white-chequered floor, the beige tiled ceiling. Boring but functional. L moved towards his right. To either side of him along the corridor were more doors, much the same as his own. He peered in through the tiny windows of some of them, all empty. As he moved down the corridor, the lights flickered. Only the one window behind L provided natural light and it had been barred completely. It looked like dusk outside, the sun lurking just below the horizon, giving the sky beyond the bars a reddish glow, and the corridor was lit up as thus.
Footsteps.
L whirled around, plastic knife in hand. A figure stood between him and the window, the silhouette cast a long shadow that seemed to reach for L independently, despite the figure standing perfectly still. The man was long haired, wore a long coat with wide cuffs. His hand rested on something at his waist, L quickly recognised it as a sword.
A sudden wave of nausea swept over L. His vision blurred, darkened; the world seemed to slow down. He found himself looking at the floor, tried to snap out of it. He readied the plastic knife defensively, to deflect attack, but the man striding towards him had yet to unsheathe his weapon. L's worthless weapon dropped out of his weakening grip, skittering away on the floor.
He was staring at the floor again. Looking up, L saw that the stranger was upon him. He had no strength to defend himself, dropping to one knee.
How could this strange man have crept up on him like this? He had excellent hearing, he should have known... should have sensed him.
Through heavy eyelids L saw the stranger's foot just inches from where his hand rested, the only thing holding him up. He tried to look up but he didn't have the strength.
The world turned dark.
* * *
"Resilient, this one, isn't he?" Jack heard. His body was weak, he hadn't the strength to open his eyes for long... so tired. The caught a glimpse of the grey-haired man. It had been he who had spoken. He didn't like that one. The girl on the other hand... She was nice.
No, the grey doctor (Jack called him Old Trout) was not a pleasant sight. Jack wished he was capable of moving his body, if so then he probably would've slapped Old Trout by now. No, Trout didn't give a damn about Jack, he just wanted to test him. Take blood, do scans, etcetera. He wasn't even sure if Old Trout was even a real doctor, more like a... like a scientist. Aye, a scientist! Maybe he was a professor. Professor Trout! Sounded much more buffoonish, he decided. Professor Trout it was, then!
The other one, though... He hadn't decided on a name for her yet. She smiled a lot. More optimistic than Jack, but then she wasn't on the receiving end of sudden, overpowering blackouts. Why, the last he'd known he was enjoying some nice, albeit somewhat overdone broccoli and carrots when the nice lady doctor had come into the room and pop!, off he'd gone. Maybe he was allergic to her? What a foolish thought. Keep thinking things like that, he'd have to find a new name for himself too! No, he couldn't be allergic to a person. He didn't even think that was possible. Now, bring him some nice fish, that'd be alright. He'd never been allergic to fish before - fortunate, given his chosen trade.
He had been growing tired of fishing but now he felt like it was the only thing he wanted to do in the whole world. Ah, to return to the sea...
Anyway, he refrained from giving the lady doctor a name. No, he would take her name, as soon as he learnt it.
"What did you say?" he heard her say. He peered out through half-closed eyes and saw her looking at him.
She heard him? Jack tried to reply, but he felt the darkness coming upon him again.
No...
Not again...
* * *
The following afternoon, L awoke to the sound of cursing as a doctor searched through a small box that he had placed on the table at the end of the bed. L coughed, the sound startled him into looking up.
"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" he asked.
L grunted. "Tired. What happened?"
"You escaped from your room and collapsed in the hall."
"I wasn't aware that I was being held captive here," L muttered. The doctor simply smiled in response, which instantly made L more suspicious. "Who are you?"
"I'm Dr Bennett," answered the greying man as he continued his search. "How much do you remember of events that occurred before you arrived here?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all."
"I see. Well, we're here to unlock those... hidden memories. They are, we're quite sure, still there. There is no sign of any damage to your brain that we can see. Smile, this is good news!" he explained, smiling himself.
L's sceptical left eyebrow crept upwards.
"On our team," continued Bennett, "we have the best living neurologist in the world working with us to help you."
"Why?" L asked. "Why are you so concerned with helping me?"
Dr Bennett simply smiled. "Because we can, L. Because science allows it."
"This is a test run, isn't it?"
"The technology and methods we'll be using to open your mind have been thoroughly tested and have been deemed completely safe, though this is somewhat of an experiment still, yes. Success is not guaranteed. You will be monitored carefully. As time goes by, L, we'll need you to tell us everything you can. And I mean everything."
The smile had faded from Bennett's face and L saw that he was completely serious.
"What's a neurologist? Nevermind, what exactly are you looking for?"
Bennett's face tripped, just momentarily but long enough for L to notice. "Anything we can find! The more memories we unlock, the better! We're aiming for total memory recollection. Like you'd never forgotten anything at all."
"Like what?" L asked, curious to know what he could discover.
"Why, everything! Names, faces and places! You'll be able to remember what you had to eat on your 5th birthday, the time the first bus you got to work was due! You'll remember the first TV show you ever watched and how you felt when it got axed years later. Don't you feel... empty? Empty in not knowing these things?"
"Well, I suppose--"
Bennett cut him off. "Of course you do! You'll remember friends and loved ones, the things you used to enjoy..."
The grey-haired doctor rambled on, but L had stopped listening. He looked at the scars on his arms and hands. Did he really want to know about all of the things he'd been through? "I'm not sure I want to remember everything," he said, interrupting Dr Bennet mid-preach.
Scowling, the older man was clearly not used to being talked over. An authoritative man, L thought. "There will be, of course, things you will discover that you might wish you'd never known, never done nor that you had been witness to. Everyone has memories like this. The sad fact of the matter is that you will have to relive them, whereas they will never have to suffer the pains of the past ever again. But, to your mind, you haven't even felt them once. Who knows what amazing things you'll discover in your own mind? I feel that they will vastly outnumber the bad things. They always do!"
L didn't share the doctor's enthusiasm.
* * *
Outside of the room, Dr Archer was waiting for Dr Bennett to finish his assessment of the subject. They had chosen to question him one-on-one as to avoid causing him further stress as he had already collapsed once within the last 24 hours. They didn't know how much damage that had done, nor what had caused it. L had lost some blood from where his IV had been connected to his wrist but the blood loss was minimal.
They had no idea what the cause was.
Bennett stepped out of L's secure new room and locked the door behind him with a security card.
"Anything?" Archer asked. A shake of the head was the response. "Why don't we try and stimulate him? Maybe show him around the lab? Who knows what we'll stir up in his head."
Bennett turned to shoot her down, then thought again. "That might actually be a good idea. We need to keep him away from the exits, we don't want to give him any ideas. He's already tried to escape once."
"Alright. I'll make arrangements with security."
* * *
Interesting, these strange machines. The rooms beyond the reinforced glass Jack saw were painted pure white, the men and women inside wearing matching clothes that almost camouflaged them in the clean environment. White hats, masks and overalls were the order of the day, it seemed. He had no idea what they were doing, just moving substances around from one vessel to another, mixing some and separating others, placing the vials in a machine that spun dozens of them round and round, the reason for this was something of which Jack was unaware. Still, he observed in curiosity.
Along the hall he was being lead along by Professor Trout and some neckless musclehead. He had "SECURITY" printed on the back of his black shirt, Jack expected the man to be of relatively low intelligence. He was there presumably to ensure that Jack didn't escape again.
It was an odd experience, the time he managed to get out of that room. It felt like he had no control over his movements, but he had almost willed himself out of that bed and out of the door. Hiding the knife had been genius. Without it he couldn't have gotten as far as he had, and the small sights he had seen were enough to give him a fair indication of his position here.
He was being held prisoner...
Nicely.
Which meant they needed him for something. But what?
By the time Jack had gotten to grips with himself he began to hallucinate, maybe from the blood he'd lost. He'd had time to ready his knife, to prepare to defend himself... no, he had prepared to think about defending himself, he didn't really stand a chance and he knew it. What was he going to do with a plastic knife when faced with a swordsman?
Jack shook his head. Metaphysically, anyway. He didn't have that much control of his actions yet. Strange, that it had been so long until he got his strength back. As it was, he felt himself limping along the corridors with the haunting feeling that it wasn't by his own will that he moved around, despite wanting to perform these actions himself. It was like an independent entity suggested these things to him and he simply conceded. Yeah, I'll just go over here, why not?
How utterly pathetic, he thought.
* * *
"What's down there?" L asked.
Bennett peered down the corridor L had pointed to. "Oh, nothing but storage down there."
"Can I see?"
"No," the security guard chimed in. L had learned that his name was Jones. "It's all secure. No-one goes in or out without clearance."
"Fair enough."
"Now, along here is where you'll be spending a lot of your time I'm afraid. This is MCU One, or Memory Conditioning Unit One. We have two in operation, you'll be helping us to test and configure them. Behold!" announced Bennett.
On their right were windows into yet another plain white room, only this room had a peculiar machine inside. It reached the height of the ceiling and, L expected, beyond. Looking much like an arch, the white and chrome machine had a seat underneath which reclined and appeared to have straps on the wrists. A heart rate monitor, much like the one in his room, was attached to the side of the machine. It was off. All sorts of cables hung from the underside of the contraption. It didn't look like using the machine would be either safe or enjoyable.
"Still, the ends justify..." L found himself saying out loud. Bennett and Jones both looked at him. He blinked.
"Finish that sentence," ordered the doctor.
"...the means?" L ventured.
Bennett half smiled. "Now, how did you know that?"
A shrug was all L could offer to the man. He didn't really know. "Because it's true? Given the circumstances I suppose."
"What were you thinking about? When you said that, I mean."
"MCU One. It looks unpleasant, with all the straps and wires. But the end result..."
"Interesting. Maybe other things will come to you naturally. One can hope."
"Why is that relevant? It's just a saying."
"For that very reason, and the fact that you know it's a 'saying'. You used a turn of phrase that should not be in your vocabulary. You've been speaking in relatively simple terms until today."
He thought. "So I have."
"This could be easier than I had imagined," muttered Bennett as he strolled away along the corridor once again. "Much easier!"
At that, L heard an amused cackle though no-one else appeared to have heard it. Had he imagined it?
Bennett and over his shoulder and ceased his stroll. "Come along, L. There is much to do!"
Indeed there is, Professor.
