Someone told me to keep a diary, seeing as I'm "gifted with the blissful inability to remember anything important," (though I think they were being sarcastic about the "gift" part.) and they gave me this little book. When I asked them what a diary was, they said that it's a book where you write down what happened to you that day and your thoughts on it. I reckon I'll do just that. I
So, I'll start off simple: what am I called? Well, that's no mystery, no secret. It's also no small number of things. My name, however -- not my given name, as I don't know that one, assuming it even exists, but rather, the name I chose for myself when I came to grasp the concept of names and the need for one -- is Mly.
I can't really remember how I came to be, how I came to be at the place I was when I started doing things I can recall, or anything involving the first part of my life. However, according to Doctor White, I was found in a crater, laying face-up, just staring blankly off into space. I spent the beginnings of my recollection with Doctor White, and it was far from pleasant, especially toward the end.
The very first thing I remember, supposedly eighteen days later, was being in some sort of machine, staring at Doctor White, who was standing at a panel with all sorts of buttons and switches. Shortly after, he said he couldn't determine how old I was. Whenever I asked him what happened in the intervening time, he always said that, after he found me, he put me in a room, where I sat for the remainder of the time.
I vaguely recall Doctor White snapping a collar around my neck some time after that. It itched horribly and was ridiculously tight. He said that only he could take it off, and that if I tried to leave his establishment, it would shock me to no end, leaving me in excruciating pain. He said it was for my own safety, and back then, I believed him. Back then, I would believe anything. Back then, I was a fool.
I never realized how much I could remember. This is probably going to take a while. Anyway, on to the tests. There were so many tests. So many tedious, annoying, and, at times, even downright painful tests. Doctor White said he wanted to know everything about me before he was done.
The first test, he called a dexterity test. It was simple enough, though I couldn't do it well the first several times. He told me to do with my hands what he did with his, then made several strange motions. Then he told me to grab onto some handlebar and squeeze as tight as I could.
The second test, which he started doing after he said I got satisfactory performance on the first test, he called a test of the mind. Every time it was different. Most of the time it was a paper with all sorts of odd symbols -- he called them numbers and signs -- whose meaning I could not decipher. After he told me what the symbols meant, it all made sense. I now know that such is called mathematics. Other times, he handed me several papers with what I now know to be called languages on them, each time a different one. It took him a great while to give me the knowledge to read just one: English, the language I am now writing in. I never figured out much else of the others. Still other times he handed me some sort of odd object, which varied each time, and told me to solve it. I never knew what constituted the condition of "solved" for the particular object he gave me right when I got it, so he always had to tell me. It took no more than a few seconds after that. Yet other times, he gave me a few blank papers and told me to write down my thoughts, much like I am doing now. He never said a good thing about what I wrote down.
The third test was a test of endurance. He had me run as fast as I could on a conveyer belt of sorts (Treadmills, I believe they're called.) with all sorts of wires hooked up to me. I ran for a great span of time. Eventually he came back in and said that was more than enough and that he was sure I could do most any strenuous activity indefinitely.
The fourth test, I didn't really come to understand until recently. He just told me to lay on a strange bed-like structure, and told me to drink a strange liquid. I did. He left and came back some time later. He seemed shocked that I was still awake. I remember his exact words: "Damn it! Why won't this creature sleep? Why won't it eat? How does it live without doing either?" He later decided to try again. He cut me open and looked around inside me. I again remember his exact words: "Ordinary human, inside and out. What gives it this power, then?"
The fifth test was a test of my strength. He told me to punch a square pad sticking out of the wall as hard as I could, so I did. He stared at the number displayed in amazement. I could already hear what he was thinking. "My god, this being is a monster."
The sixth test, he called the pain test. He took me into a black room that was, save for a strange, equally black block jutting up from the floor in the middle, completely empty and nondescript. He told me to lay on the block, and I did against my better judgement. He strapped me in and left. A few moments later, I felt pain all over my body. It slowly got worse and worse. It seemed like forever that I was strapped to that table, in horrible, writhe-inducing, and rapidly increasing pain. I eventually broke free of the straps, and the pain stopped shortly after.
The seventh and final test he called the harm test. "I know it sounds dangerous, but I want to find out what it would take to hurt you. You seem incredibly resilient," he said as we were walking down the hall together. After a long pause, he continued: "Oh, why do I bother saying anything to you? The only time you talk is when I tell you to read something. Hell, the only time you move is when I tell you to." I barely remember the deep, Russian quality to his voice. I was hit with all sorts of things -- from an adz to a Z-ray. Nothing worked, though it all hurt. I could hear Doctor White from behind the control panel, separated from me by a thick one-way window: "This monstrosity is clearly too powerful to risk use. As much as I would like to further my goals with its might, it could just as easily come to kill me. Lock it away in IH and have its excruciator set to maximum power to immobilize it." They did just that, and I have been here ever since.
I wonder if I'll ever escape. It's not really that bad, I suppose. I've gotten used to the excruciator collar, and there are others like me to talk to.
So, I'll start off simple: what am I called? Well, that's no mystery, no secret. It's also no small number of things. My name, however -- not my given name, as I don't know that one, assuming it even exists, but rather, the name I chose for myself when I came to grasp the concept of names and the need for one -- is Mly.
I can't really remember how I came to be, how I came to be at the place I was when I started doing things I can recall, or anything involving the first part of my life. However, according to Doctor White, I was found in a crater, laying face-up, just staring blankly off into space. I spent the beginnings of my recollection with Doctor White, and it was far from pleasant, especially toward the end.
The very first thing I remember, supposedly eighteen days later, was being in some sort of machine, staring at Doctor White, who was standing at a panel with all sorts of buttons and switches. Shortly after, he said he couldn't determine how old I was. Whenever I asked him what happened in the intervening time, he always said that, after he found me, he put me in a room, where I sat for the remainder of the time.
I vaguely recall Doctor White snapping a collar around my neck some time after that. It itched horribly and was ridiculously tight. He said that only he could take it off, and that if I tried to leave his establishment, it would shock me to no end, leaving me in excruciating pain. He said it was for my own safety, and back then, I believed him. Back then, I would believe anything. Back then, I was a fool.
I never realized how much I could remember. This is probably going to take a while. Anyway, on to the tests. There were so many tests. So many tedious, annoying, and, at times, even downright painful tests. Doctor White said he wanted to know everything about me before he was done.
The first test, he called a dexterity test. It was simple enough, though I couldn't do it well the first several times. He told me to do with my hands what he did with his, then made several strange motions. Then he told me to grab onto some handlebar and squeeze as tight as I could.
The second test, which he started doing after he said I got satisfactory performance on the first test, he called a test of the mind. Every time it was different. Most of the time it was a paper with all sorts of odd symbols -- he called them numbers and signs -- whose meaning I could not decipher. After he told me what the symbols meant, it all made sense. I now know that such is called mathematics. Other times, he handed me several papers with what I now know to be called languages on them, each time a different one. It took him a great while to give me the knowledge to read just one: English, the language I am now writing in. I never figured out much else of the others. Still other times he handed me some sort of odd object, which varied each time, and told me to solve it. I never knew what constituted the condition of "solved" for the particular object he gave me right when I got it, so he always had to tell me. It took no more than a few seconds after that. Yet other times, he gave me a few blank papers and told me to write down my thoughts, much like I am doing now. He never said a good thing about what I wrote down.
The third test was a test of endurance. He had me run as fast as I could on a conveyer belt of sorts (Treadmills, I believe they're called.) with all sorts of wires hooked up to me. I ran for a great span of time. Eventually he came back in and said that was more than enough and that he was sure I could do most any strenuous activity indefinitely.
The fourth test, I didn't really come to understand until recently. He just told me to lay on a strange bed-like structure, and told me to drink a strange liquid. I did. He left and came back some time later. He seemed shocked that I was still awake. I remember his exact words: "Damn it! Why won't this creature sleep? Why won't it eat? How does it live without doing either?" He later decided to try again. He cut me open and looked around inside me. I again remember his exact words: "Ordinary human, inside and out. What gives it this power, then?"
The fifth test was a test of my strength. He told me to punch a square pad sticking out of the wall as hard as I could, so I did. He stared at the number displayed in amazement. I could already hear what he was thinking. "My god, this being is a monster."
The sixth test, he called the pain test. He took me into a black room that was, save for a strange, equally black block jutting up from the floor in the middle, completely empty and nondescript. He told me to lay on the block, and I did against my better judgement. He strapped me in and left. A few moments later, I felt pain all over my body. It slowly got worse and worse. It seemed like forever that I was strapped to that table, in horrible, writhe-inducing, and rapidly increasing pain. I eventually broke free of the straps, and the pain stopped shortly after.
The seventh and final test he called the harm test. "I know it sounds dangerous, but I want to find out what it would take to hurt you. You seem incredibly resilient," he said as we were walking down the hall together. After a long pause, he continued: "Oh, why do I bother saying anything to you? The only time you talk is when I tell you to read something. Hell, the only time you move is when I tell you to." I barely remember the deep, Russian quality to his voice. I was hit with all sorts of things -- from an adz to a Z-ray. Nothing worked, though it all hurt. I could hear Doctor White from behind the control panel, separated from me by a thick one-way window: "This monstrosity is clearly too powerful to risk use. As much as I would like to further my goals with its might, it could just as easily come to kill me. Lock it away in IH and have its excruciator set to maximum power to immobilize it." They did just that, and I have been here ever since.
I wonder if I'll ever escape. It's not really that bad, I suppose. I've gotten used to the excruciator collar, and there are others like me to talk to.
