A FATED INTERACTION

by Maddie Girouard

A very significant day in the life of a very insignificant Syntec patient.

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I’m beginning to understand why Chloe made that recording.

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Repetition is both a blessing and a curse in this place. There are patterns that I’ve learned to expect. Patterns that offer no sickening surprises. Patterns that almost provide a sense of comfort in this awful nightmare of a place. But with those patterns comes a monotony. One that simultaneously makes my situation more and less bearable. I haven’t completely lost myself, but I’m getting there. This place would do that to anyone. The lab coats, the echoing footsteps, the incessant amount of white that is absolutely everywhere. At this point, I would almost prefer to stare at those vibrantly yellow hazmat suits that people occasionally wear around here.

It was all very jarring the first few weeks. The first couple months, I would still actively fight against anyone that tried to touch me. Can you blame me? I thought I was just a college kid going to take some surveys. Instead, I got strapped to a table, branded, and then became a hostage. Maybe it’s just me, but those actions don’t exactly scream “trust me, I’m nice.”  I will say though, my circumstance - albeit partially my fault, stupid ad - has definitely gotten more...familiar. By no means do I enjoy being injected with various substances or flashed with bright lights every single day, but the repetition and pattern of it all is expected now. There aren’t many surprises.

But then again, I’ve been wrong before.

As fate would have it, there was a small celebration today. Apparently, today is my “anniversary”: I’ve been a patient with Syntec for exactly one year. One year since I voluntarily walked through those doors, and involuntarily never got to walk out. One year since I left behind any semblance of a normal life that I might ever have. One year since I was last addressed by my real name.

Don’t ask me why they choose to celebrate such “special occasions.” They said I’ve been doing good with the trials, yet they still won’t tell me what they’re for. It’s like they’re keeping what they’re doing to me a secret. Actually, they kind of keep everything a secret around here. None of my questions get answered, and as someone who likes asking questions, that’s really annoying. Fortunately for me, my trials don’t seem to be too painful...now, at least. In the beginning, it was hard not to break. All of the needles and vials and serums and experiments. I may not have had an aversion to needles when I got here, but I certainly have the makings of a phobia now.

No matter how bad you have it, there’s no denying that this place really is a nightmare.

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I’m beginning to understand why Chloe made that recording. It’s weird how you come to miss the little things. Before Syntec, I wasn’t particularly fond of hearing my name. Not because I hated it, but because I hated hearing people say it. It always felt like they were mad at me. Like, no one ever said my name unless they were yelling, and you don’t exactly get a happy feeling when someone is yelling at you. It always felt like we were in an argument, and people would say my name just to piss me off more.

...I would kill to argue with someone right now.

“You’re being such a jerk Monroe!”

“Monroe, I can’t believe you said that!”

“Get out of here Monroe!”

Monroe, Monroe, Monroe.

Talking to myself helps. I can address myself by name all I want, and no one can stop me. The doctors and scientists and government officials all use my patient ID number. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I could recite that stupid number back to anyone because at this point, I refuse to hear it. Anytime I hear the words “patient number...”, I just tune them out. I stop listening, because if I listen to them, I’m not listening to me. And if I stop listening to me, I stop hearing my name. And without my name, I’ll forget who I am. And I refuse to let anyone here deprive me of who I am.

I’m Monroe, a girl who sucks at accounting, but majored in it anyway. Monroe, a girl who never went to parties because she wasn’t a fan of strangers. Monroe, a girl who was afraid of looking stupid, but asked all of the dumb questions anyway because other people didn’t. Monroe, a girl who used to stay home all day, but because that was what she wanted. Monroe, a girl who regrets not leaving her room more, back when leaving her room was an option. Monroe, a girl who celebrated her 21st and 22nd birthday locked in a room, alone.

But hey, they gave me a cupcake, so that was nice I guess.

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I think I would rather get another injection than have to continue sitting through these bi-monthly “mentality meetings.” They act like everything is fine and dandy over here. Like they’re not inhumanely holding us captive as they perform weird science experiments on us. I don’t know who they’re putting the act on for, but whoever you are, I hope you don’t believe them. I doubt they’d enjoy being in our position for a week. You try being

experimented on every single day for months. Let’s see how your mentality is. When I got into the room, there was that same smug jerkface sitting at the table.

Jasper Shaw.

“Good morning patient number G236. How has your day been so far?”

“What do you think? I’ve already been through two rounds of testing this morning. My arm is uncomfortably sore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” No he’s not. In addition to his face showing that he enjoys this, it’s nearly impossible to forget that he’s one of the people testing on me. D worked with me for a little bit, but she hasn’t been around much. It’s a shame. Despite her rocky first impression, she actually turned out to be one of the nicer scientists. “So, is there anything you’d like to ask? Anything you’d like to discuss? These meetings are for your benefit.” He always seemed so cheery. It was creepy.

“Where’s Poppy?” It was a simple question. I’m known for asking questions around here, so asking about Poppy shouldn’t mean anything to them. Do I get answers? No, but that doesn’t make me question things any less. He didn’t need to know we were friends. It should be no surprise to anyone here that we talked. Cameras have a way of catching things.

“Patient numbe-“

“No. Her name is Poppy.”

“236, you know we don’t refer to patients by their legal names.”

“I don’t care. If you can’t call her Poppy, then don’t call her anything.

Especially not that stupid number.” Okay, so I might’ve messed up. Showing that you care about someone is a weakness here. It’s best not to give these people more ammunition. They can be very creative when it comes to their weapons of choice, but it had been a while since I had seen her, and I was desperate for answers.

“I take it you two were close?”

Yes. “No.”

“Oh? You two seemed like quite the friendship pair, from what I’ve seen, at least.”

“We talked sometimes.” All the time.

“Well, in any case, patient num- your not friend is no longer here. She will be continuing her trials from a different location.” He said it like he expected me to believe him. He said it like he believed himself.

“Pffft. I know what that really means.” It means Poppy isn’t coming back. Something happened to her. Something that she can’t come back from. “You can just say she died. I’m not going to burst into tears.” In front of you.

“I am unable to disclose the status of one patient with another. You are well aware of the confidentiality guidelines we have here. Now, is there anything else you’d like to discuss before this meeting is over 236?

“Yeah. Why are you here Jasper?”

He tried hiding his surprise. As if he doesn’t make enough people call him that. It’s not a wild thought to think that I had overheard his first name. Plus, it was a genuine question. He didn’t seem as cold as the others. Smug, sure. Cocky, definitely. But there was still a sliver of him that seemed to value the humanity of others.

“236, you are to refer to me as Mr. Shaw. You have been here long enough to be familiar with the rules that you are to follow. Additionally, I’m not sure I understand what answer you’re looking for.”

Of course he does. I can see it in the devious smile spreading across his very punchable face: He’s playing with his food.

“Yes you do. Why do you work at Syntec? You’ve seen what they’re doing to us. You’ve seen what they’re making you do. I know you’ve seen what they’ve done to Poppy. Why are you okay with that? We’re still people!”

“You're not people. You’re lab rats.” Ahhh, and so the mirage dissipates. Guess I was wrong. Turns out this guy fits in just fine here.

“Your friend was a very valuable asset to our research. Anything that happened to her as a result of her trials was a necessary step towards helping the futur-

Ow! The movies make punching someone look so painless for the puncher. And with today’s injection arm too? I think I broke my hand. I also think I made him mad. That made me a little happy.

“Oh you little-”

“Shut up Jasper!”

For once, I had the upper hand with this guy.

“Have you no respect for authority! Where are your morals?”

“You should know, you ripped my morals out months ago.”

Aaaand right on cue: security.

He attempted to regain composure, and as the officers handcuffed me, he straightened out his cufflinks and adjusted the curls of his hair.

“I thought you said your arm was sore.” Jasper always seemed to be the type of guy that wanted to have the last word. Unfortunately for him, I was that girl.

“It is. Worth it.”

Whatever punishment I would end up getting later was worth getting to wipe that smug look off of his face for even just a few seconds. And something tells me that’s not the last time that dude will get punched in the face. Probably not the last time it’ll be done by me, either.

---

Turns out the punishment for punching pretty boy in the face was having to deal with one of the more infamous doctors for a bit.

Arden Hunter.

He had tested on me once before, and it was definitely more painful than some of my other trials. Still not sure what’s being done to me by any of these people, but I eavesdrop when I can. I overheard that the good doctor had been out on a special assignment, at the request of D. Regardless, I really don’t want to spend more time with him than I have to. Dude has an aggressive reputation.

“I heard this was a punishment for you.”

It was a bit startling to hear his voice. Once I’m in the chair, I tend to just zone out. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Shaw. He wasn’t too keen on you giving him a black eye days before his anniversary.”

Anniversary? Like, a relationship anniversary? Or some evil scientist anniversary? If that dude is dating, I feel sorry for the special someone.

“What’s he celebrating?” The good doctor seemed to be more open than others. Maybe he would be less careful with information.

“That is confidential young lady.” Great. I don’t think he could’ve sounded more patronizing if he tried.

“Well, it was worth a shot.” I’ll grasp at straws if that’s what it takes to get answers.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine, I guess. My arm is sore from this morning, and my hand is...well, my knuckles hurt. But if you’re talking about right now, it doesn’t really feel like you’ve done anything.”

“That’s because I haven’t.”

“Why not? I’ve already had two sessions today. Let’s just get this over with.” I didn’t want to be in that chair any longer than I had to be. Doctor dearest may have been entertaining my questions, but it felt like he was stalling for something, and that made my stomach feel worse.

“You seem to have a very inquisitive mind. I would’ve thought that after all of your time here, the curious, intellectual parts of you would’ve diminished.” Oh, so I’m too sane for him?

“What can I say, Doctor? I’ve been lucky. My trials haven’t seriously harmed me. That’s more than others can say. You of all people should know that.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Do you think I want to hurt you?”

"Don't get sappy on me now, Doctor. I'll start to question your reputation as the most aggressive physician here." A thing I figured he prided himself on. However, much to my surprise, the doctor seemed to think about what I said. He didn’t dismiss it and roll his eyes. He didn’t inject me with something while I wasn’t looking. He just sat there, staring at his blank clipboard.

Finally, he looked back up at me.

“Is that really what people think of me?

He was putting up a believable front. It really seemed like he wanted to hear my answer. And evidently, I was in an honest mood.

“Well, yeah. You’re here. Nobody here wants to help us. We’re ants compared to people like you. To people like Jasper and Nelson and D. To all of you, we’re not people, we’re lab rats.” I hated tasting Jasper’s words, but it was the truth. Syntec doesn’t see us as people anymore. I’m not sure they ever did.

“Well that’s...unfortunate to hear. I never meant to give the impression that I enjoyed hurting people. I don’t think anyone here ever intended to harm anyone. We’re just doing what’s best for-”

“If you say ‘the future’, I might hit you too.”

I just felt so over everything. Sitting there with someone known for leaving lasting damage on people, all while he acted like he actually cared about what I was saying.

“Doctor, can I tell you something?” Might as well be honest, right? What’s he gonna do, hurt me?

“Sure.”

“When I think about other patients here - people like Poppy, it makes me feel guilty for being alive.”

Welp, no coming back from that.

“How so?”

“Well, my trials aren’t as bad as hers. She lost a finger the other day, and then it just reappeared! I can’t imagine what that must have been like for her.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.” He actually sounded like he meant it. Part of me believed him.

I was so distracted by what I was saying, that I didn’t realize he had lathered my non-dominant arm in something. More specifically, he coated the branding that was permanently etched onto my arm. Those snakes that will forever be a reminder of where I was.

“Would you mind squeezing my hand?”

And then I got scared. I was always scared in this place, but this was a new type of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what could be done to me. I was aware of what had been done to me, but this? This was different. After all of these months, this was new. This, I had absolutely no control over. And that terrified me.

“I’m sorry, I...I can’t. Dr. Hunter, what’s wrong? Why can’t I feel my arm? What’s happening?”

Then Dr. Hunter gave me the strangest of looks: he was afraid. There was genuine fear in his eyes, and that made my stomach drop.

“Monroe, I need you to listen to me.”

My name. He used my name.

“Wha-what’s going on? What’s happening? Dr. Hunter, I’m scared. Please, can you just tell me what-”

And then he covered my mouth.

I was helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.

But the doctor didn’t do anything. He just started talking.

“I have hurt many people, including your friend, and for that, I can never be forgiven. But maybe you can make it out of this.”

I couldn’t say anything because of his hand and all, so I just kinda kept staring at him, agonizingly attempting to get away from him. With the limbs that I could move, I was desperately trying to fight him, but I couldn’t get away.

“Please. Just listen to me.” He was pleading with me. He was the controller in this situation, and yet, he was pleading with me.

So I listened.

I listened as he explained how sorry he was for everything he had done. How he never meant to hurt anybody. How he wanted to use his skills for good, but once he got involved with Syntec, it was too hard for him to get out. How he desperately wished he could erase everything he had ever done with the biotech company. I listened as he told me how badly he wanted to help me get out of there, and I listened as he explained how to do just that. What corners to take, where to hide, who to be on the lookout for. I could see it in his eyes: he truly was afraid to help me, and yet, he was doing it anyway.

And then he turned on a machine.

I knew that machine. It was the same machine that I had been branded with when I first got here. The machine that started all of this. I started panicking even more. Of all of my trials, none had ever left a mark as bad as that machine did.

I was scared. With every fiber of my being, I was scared. I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t run away.

Arden saw the fear in my eyes, and I saw the fear in his.

“I need to use the machine. They can tell if I’ve run it, but in order for this to work, to be used. 30 seconds, that’s all it takes! And then, we’re getting you out of here. I am so, so sorry Monroe. This is the last thing you have to do here, and then you’re free.”

My emotions had no other way of escaping me, so I cried. As I lay there, dreading what’s about to happen, terrified of the pain I am going to feel, I cried. As Arden kept one hand over my mouth, and reached for the machine patch with the other, I cried. As he activated the machine, and muffled my screams, I cried. I guess as the months went by, my body got stronger at handling the pain that I endured. When I first encountered that machine, it knocked me out. But now, my body was hopped up on adrenaline, and the fear kept me from losing consciousness.

But I got through it. And through what felt like a dream, a whole lot of luck, and what had to have been a heaping helping of fate, Dr. Hunter got me out of there.

And now I’m free.

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I always wanted to be special. My friend Poppy was special. But that place has a way of taking special and ripping every ounce of it apart until there’s nothing special left. Nothing normal left. Until there’s nothing left. Syntec takes special, chews it up, and spits out an empty shell of a person.

Poppy is gone because she was special. I’m still here because I’m not.

I used to compare my situation to Poppy’s. Is it better to have everything scooped out of you in a short amount of time, or to have a spoonful of yourself slowly removed every day, to the point of questioning if they’re even doing anything to you at all, or if you’re just changing on your own.

I’m alive, so I guess that’s a point for the spoonful.

Poppy was tortured. Chloe was broken. They were put through hell because of that place. Because of people like Nelson and Jasper. Probably because of people like D, too. But as insignificant of a person as I may seem, I am going to take Syntec down. For Poppy, Chloe, me, and anyone else that was hurt by that stupid company.

Mark my words: Syntec. Will. Burn.I just have to make sure it’s done right.

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Tune in for our last short story next Friday at 3PM PST!