were visible. Its eyes were closed and its mouth was shut, apart from a pipe that was held between its lips. Heather noticed that the body seemed extremely fit, its muscle definition top notch. The physique could have easily been that of a body builder or a wrestler. Every muscle was perfectly defined. Even its fingers had muscles.
The overwhelming fear of possibly seeing its eyes open was too much for Heather. She stepped off the platform and back down to ground level. Shivers like small electric shocks ran through her. Turning her eyes from the cylinder she looked around. She tried rubbing the chills from her arms.
Imagination got the better of her, and she was able to picture people sitting on these benches looking at the tube itself, making notes, conversing with one another, using medical jargon that was only familiar to Heather from medical shows on TV. She felt her guts lurch.
Moving around the tube and its platform, Heather saw another door, a double one this time. She walked towards it and pushed it open.
What she saw repulsed her.
She fell forward, vomiting. Her stomach didn’t have much to give up, for she hadn’t eaten in ages, but the instinctive reaction couldn’t be controlled. Her ears welcomed the sound of vomit hitting the floor, a break from the unbearable silence.
Heather stood up and gazed around her. At first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but then it hit her and she felt like vomiting again, had her stomach not already been completely voided.
The room she was in, once again, was identical in shape to the room she had just left. However, there was no raised platform or cylinder containing an ‘experiment’. This room had the benches and the same décor as the others. There were four doors she could make out beyond the people she could see.
‘People’. That word was weird.
Heather took a second to process what was in front of her, making sure that it was real.
The room was swarming with people.
Counting on her fingers she saw nineteen.
All of them were identical.
All bald, all hairless, all with well-defined and muscular bodies.
All wearing white gowns to cover their modesty.
There was no doubt that these people had all been in that cylinder at some point.
Maybe there was a whole facility of cylinders scattered around in rooms near here, she thought. These ‘people’ were walking clones of the person she had seen suspended moments ago. They ambled around slowly, as if they were brain-dead zombies, yet they looked like humans. They moved methodically, with no rhythm or apparent destination, no anticipation and no raw emotion in their faces. One of them was sitting on a bench staring into space, another was seated on the floor, legs crossed, his private parts exposed. Three of them leaned on a wall doing nothing, probably not aware of their actions.
None of them looked at Heather, none of them responded to her presence.
Fear seized her, and Heather felt her eyes rolling.
She collapsed, her face landing in her vomit.
The people didn’t notice at all.
Except for one...
***
The third man felt his wine dribble down his chin a little when he saw his subject collapse to the ground. For the first time tonight, he had been totally surprised. He just hadn’t expected it to happen. The funny thing to him was that she had been sick initially, and then landed face first in her stomach’s contents.
Comedy genius!
Placing his glass down, the man took a serviette from his desk and wiped his chin. Folding the napkin neatly, he dropped it in the bin beside him, aware of the tinny thunk as it landed. He linked his fingers under his chin and thought for a moment. Then he tapped his keyboard three times.
Nothing happened at first. Then he saw the room interior on his screen filled with gas and the clones all dropped to the ground simultaneously. After a moment, all was still. The room seemed to be filled with corpses.
The bodies were static. The room was devoid of
The overwhelming fear of possibly seeing its eyes open was too much for Heather. She stepped off the platform and back down to ground level. Shivers like small electric shocks ran through her. Turning her eyes from the cylinder she looked around. She tried rubbing the chills from her arms.
Imagination got the better of her, and she was able to picture people sitting on these benches looking at the tube itself, making notes, conversing with one another, using medical jargon that was only familiar to Heather from medical shows on TV. She felt her guts lurch.
Moving around the tube and its platform, Heather saw another door, a double one this time. She walked towards it and pushed it open.
What she saw repulsed her.
She fell forward, vomiting. Her stomach didn’t have much to give up, for she hadn’t eaten in ages, but the instinctive reaction couldn’t be controlled. Her ears welcomed the sound of vomit hitting the floor, a break from the unbearable silence.
Heather stood up and gazed around her. At first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but then it hit her and she felt like vomiting again, had her stomach not already been completely voided.
The room she was in, once again, was identical in shape to the room she had just left. However, there was no raised platform or cylinder containing an ‘experiment’. This room had the benches and the same décor as the others. There were four doors she could make out beyond the people she could see.
‘People’. That word was weird.
Heather took a second to process what was in front of her, making sure that it was real.
The room was swarming with people.
Counting on her fingers she saw nineteen.
All of them were identical.
All bald, all hairless, all with well-defined and muscular bodies.
All wearing white gowns to cover their modesty.
There was no doubt that these people had all been in that cylinder at some point.
Maybe there was a whole facility of cylinders scattered around in rooms near here, she thought. These ‘people’ were walking clones of the person she had seen suspended moments ago. They ambled around slowly, as if they were brain-dead zombies, yet they looked like humans. They moved methodically, with no rhythm or apparent destination, no anticipation and no raw emotion in their faces. One of them was sitting on a bench staring into space, another was seated on the floor, legs crossed, his private parts exposed. Three of them leaned on a wall doing nothing, probably not aware of their actions.
None of them looked at Heather, none of them responded to her presence.
Fear seized her, and Heather felt her eyes rolling.
She collapsed, her face landing in her vomit.
The people didn’t notice at all.
Except for one...
***
The third man felt his wine dribble down his chin a little when he saw his subject collapse to the ground. For the first time tonight, he had been totally surprised. He just hadn’t expected it to happen. The funny thing to him was that she had been sick initially, and then landed face first in her stomach’s contents.
Comedy genius!
Placing his glass down, the man took a serviette from his desk and wiped his chin. Folding the napkin neatly, he dropped it in the bin beside him, aware of the tinny thunk as it landed. He linked his fingers under his chin and thought for a moment. Then he tapped his keyboard three times.
Nothing happened at first. Then he saw the room interior on his screen filled with gas and the clones all dropped to the ground simultaneously. After a moment, all was still. The room seemed to be filled with corpses.
The bodies were static. The room was devoid of
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