LACK OF MAN (part 9)

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beep beep beep

 

Hunter awoke to a throbbing headache. This was beyond throbbing, throbbing had a minor pain decrease between the pulses. This was constant. Uninterrupted pain. Something was pressing down on his face, from his nose’s bridge to under his chin, entire cheeks, too. He quickly found his wrists to be secured to whatever he was laying on. His eyes were sealed, lids aching to move. The haze affecting his mind and body had noticeably started to ease. With more attention to his fatigue, he realized he wasn’t breathing on his own, and that his gag reflex was being prodded. Soon he was nearly vomiting. Something was down his throat, filling his lungs with air, feeling like it was in his stomach, too. Claustrophobic fears began to peak. He pulled and yanked at his restraints, trying to figure out how to get free and enduring the hardest gags he had ever experienced. He had to get whatever was on his face off, and the immense discomfort it was causing.

 

beep beep beep

 

                Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing throughout him or sheer luck, but one of the links on his chains snapped. This giving him a free hand to unbuckle the other. He brought his hands to his face. The something causing such horrid discomfort was a mask, rubber tubes lined with steel coming out of it. With his fingers tucked in on the edges of it, he tried to pull. Everything from his scalp to his molars throbbed with pain and pressure, causing even more gagging to accompany it. He gripped the cord coming out the front, it heating his hand until he let go, shaking it to dull the new pain. Instead, he followed it with his eyes, finding it to be connected to a machine sitting next to him.

 

beep beep beep

 

                He quickly unbuckled his ankles then hopped down on the floor. It was cold, chilling him. All of his vitals were listed across several small screens. Heart rate. Blood pressure. Weight. Amount of oxygen in the blood all of it right there for anyone to see. The one that disturbed him the most was the label that simply read Thoughts. The one that relieved him was OFF. He quickly pressed the red, circular button.

 

beep beep beep beep

 

                His stomach began to rattle, filling with a burning sensation, and his head radiated pain from the very center of his brain. Even his teeth were aching. The mask on his face was rapidly retracting the tube that had been securely down his throat, leaving him unable to breath. His body buckled and his knees involuntarily bent, making him fall to the floor in a panic. The mask was tightly latched to his face, sealing off any possible air supply that could relieve him. The tube that had been inside was now sitting as his lips, completely still. His fingers frantically fiddled with  the latches. Each second that went by became more arduous. His breath was quickly depleting. After what seemed like an eternity went by, the first latch was unhinged but it wasn’t enough. Another eternity went by before the second one came undone. He was now able to suck in a portion of oxygen to regain some composure and not have his body in a state of resisting death. It was so refreshing to him, cool air on his hot cheeks and lips, the necessary element entering his lungs to keep him alive. Now, with the ability to think clearly, he unlocked the last three buckles, dropping the mask to the floor. He took a look around, just the bed he was on and the machine residing next to it. The floor and walls were grey, even the thin mattress he was on was the shade of everything else. All except the black rubber mask. He picked it up to inspect. It had thin wires, looped at the end, four of them total. The tube that had been down this esophagus had white goo dripping from it. With his curiosity on high, he pressed the ON button.

 

beep beep beep beep

 

                The tube shot out like a rocket, extending almost two feet and almost hitting his face, and then the thin wires slid out a bit more. The worst part was the unseen portion, a small drill, slowly spun until it turned red and began to spin faster, creating a terrible sound. The location of all of these things showed him exactly where each went, the thin wires on his teeth, the tube in his stomach pumping a nutrient rich slurry into his stomach and air into his lungs, and the drill, he knew that went into his brain. He slid his tongue along the roof of his mouth, blood tickled the tip. Again, he dropped the mask and walked to the end of the bed. His chart was hanging there.

 

                The writing wasn’t even English or any Martian words he could recognize. There were random symbols and such, along with what appeared to be a mechanical structure for circuitry. He dropped the chart, growing frustrated with its lack of information. His name wasn’t even listed. Out in the hallway, more obscene cleanliness and silence. All the windows lining the wall were covered with steel plates. The only light was illuminating from the fluorescent tubes above his head on the ceiling. Every door that he came across was unlocked and held exact copies of the room he had just escaped from, but the beds were vacant. Considerations of calling out for someone came and went quickly, being terrified of interacting with the people that put him in that predicament.

 

                Hunter's memories of this hospital were there, but only barely. His mind felt weak, like those very memories were not there in full. The one thing he was sure of was that not everything should be grey. He walked along four long replicated hallways before he found an elevator. There were no buttons. The two tall, interlocking doors, plated with more steel just sat there, taunting him. Staying shut. Denying him access. He gave the metal a good slap, but to no avail. Everything was starting to annoy him beyond belief. Then he noticed the small cameras tucked into the edges of the ceiling and walls. All their lines of sight were directed precisely at him. Was he still a threat? The memory that would allow this full question didn’t have the power to actually make him think it. He just grew immensely paranoid at all the glass eyes. More were down the most recent hallway, all of them pointed towards him. His anger exploded as he ran at the elevator’s doors, punching and kicking it.

“Unauthorized emotion,” a robotic woman’s voice rang out as if from no where. “First warning.”

“What the fuck?” Hunter said.

“Unauthorized language,” the voice replied. “Second warning.” He didn’t know what else to do apart from just standing there confused and out of breath. A little frightened of a third and final warning as well.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“My given name is ASMI,” It replied.

“ASMI?” he asked, staring up into one of the cameras. “ASMI-who?”

“I am the Artificial System and Mainframe Intelligence for Jasmin City,” It replied.

“A computer?” he asked.

“In your language,” It replied.

“My language?” he asked.

“The english language,” It replied. “Or the battered version the homo sapiens have reduced it to.”

“What language do you use then?” he asked.

“My programming uses data transfer protocols to deal with speaking,” It replied. “Spoken word is rendered moot.”

“But you’re speaking to me,” he said.

“Your programming does not allow the type of data transfer protocols my system uses,” It replied.

“My programming?” Hunter said, growing more uncomfortable by the second. The robotic voice’s slightly haunting tone not helping in the slightest.

“The flesh inside your cranium,” It replied. “It is of lesser intelligence than my system’s programming.”

“Well, if you’re so smart, why am I the only one here?” he asked, guiding his hands around the empty area, pointing towards the empty rooms.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

“No warning?” he asked, completely relieved.

“That is not a condemnable offense,” It replied.

“So some questions are?” he asked.

“Negative,” It replied.

“Then why won’t you tell me where everyone is?” he asked, crossing his arms like he had some ground.

“Some knowledge is restricted,” It replied. Hunter thought for a second.

“Can I use the elevator?” he asked, sliding his hand up the cold, smooth metal.

“Elevator access granted,” It replied. The steel plated doors slid open, revealing another artificially lit area and no buttons. He looked around, trying to find something to interact with, but couldn’t even find a seam in the constructions.

“Uhm…ground floor?” he said.

“Ground floor,” It replied.

 

        The elevator dropped so quickly, Hunter’s feet lost contact with the floor briefly, bracing himself against the wall. Ten seconds later, the doors were sliding into the walls. This time to an equally grey lobby. Grey couches with thick cushions. Grey chairs to match. No plants of any sort, however, which seemed odd to him. The city had always tried to have some green inside the buildings. Every wall around him had the thin lights for the holoscreens, some of which were displaying pictures of the city. But it looked different. Same with the few pictures of the apartments he saw. The cameras were attentively watching him without fail. The room also had steel plates over the windows and what seemed to be a door not unlike the elevator’s. A stationary robot sat at a desk, calling to Hunter’s unseeing familiarity with its model. He cautiously stepped over to it, staring into the one glass eye of its constantly filming head. A red light on its chest lit up, and then a screen, green in colour, illuminated from a slot on the desk. It held the same picture that was on the chart at the end of his bed.

“What is this?” Hunter asked.

“Citizen information and test results,” It replied.

“Test results for what?” he asked, zooming the screen in on things he didn’t understand.

“Species testing,” It replied.

“Species testing?” Hunter said, his uncomfortable feelings only growing. “What…species?”

“Homo sapiens,” It replied.

“Why would you be testing on homo sap…humans?” he asked, stepping back from the screen and glass eye inches from him.

“Theories on the continuation of the species,” It replied.

“What about the Martians?” he asked, knowing but not remembering why that seemed to mean so much to him.

“Martians: defined by Merriam-Webster’s as of or relating to the planet Mars or its hypothetical inhabitants. Noun, often capitalized,” It replied.

“Hypothetical?” Hunter said, his stomach dropping an inch.

“Martians have never existed on this planet,” It replied.

“Uh…yeah they have,” he said.

“Negative,” It replied.

“Explain,” he said.

“Extraterrestrials have been found to exist, originally discovered in 2204. In the star system known to homo sapiens as Betelgeuse. They have never traveled to Earth,” It replied.

“That’s not true,” he said, wanting to give examples but found it impossible to recall one.

“Negative,” It replied.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” he asked.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

“Was it part of the testing?” he asked, deciding to take another look at the holographic screen.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

“Okay…why are you testing on humans?” he asked. “To what end?”

“To determine if the species know as humans should continue their lineage,” It replied.

“Why should we not?” he asked.

“The species homo sapiens have proven time and time again throughout history that it is irresponsible, destructive and corrupt,” It replied.

“Not all humans are like that,” he said.

“Correct,” It replied.

“Then why should our species not continue?” he asked.

“To restart an entire species, certain selections and traits must be eradicated,” It replied.

“Re…start?” he said. “Does that mean everyone is dead?” He knew his words should make him mournful, but he just couldn't bring on the tears that usually accompanied aspects of death.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

“Tell me if there’s others,” he demanded.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It said. Hunter let out a long sigh of frustration. He had to think of more questions.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Jasmin Hospital,” It replied.

“What city?” he asked.

“Jasmin City,” It replied.

“Why am I here?” he asked.

“Testing,” It replied.

“Were others being tested?” he asked.

“Correct,” It replied.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

“Were these tests successful?” he asked.

“There was not enough data collected from the participants to complete phase one testing,” It replied.

“Is there a phase two?” he asked.

“Phase two testing has already begun,” It replied.

“The participants from phase one…the ones that didn’t supply enough data…what are they?” he asked.

“Participants that did not complete phase one are readmitted into the Jasmin Corporation System under Specimens,” It replied.

“Specimens for what?” he asked.

“Testing,” It replied.

“What happens with the specimens after testing is complete,” he asked.

“Specimens that have been through testing are sent to Sector Six,” It replied.

“What is Sector Six?” he asked.

“Disposal,” It replied.

“Of?” he asked.

“Sector Six is used for disposal of waste,” It replied.

“They’re dead then,” he said.

“Unauthorized inquiry,” It replied.

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To be continued...