Food has always….been a challenge. No, it wasn't acquisition that posed the difficulty – the scientists ensured that I received several meals a day for my “nutritional needs and healing.” Rather, the challenge lay in willingly consuming the day's specialty.
Being a subject of constant experimentation, every aspect of my life, including mealtime, served as a test for my captors to extract “results.” Each meal introduced a new type of cuisine, seldom harmless.
Fresh meat and the like were rare delicacies used more as treats. They knew I could consume those just fine after all. They wanted to know what kind of waste I could eat, what kind of garbage I could digest and process. But most importantly, they wanted to know the limits of their creation.
After all, if they know what went wrong with previous creations, they can make the adjustments to their future ones.
You see, I’m not the only resident monster. They keep me locked in a cell inside of a dark room, but I can hear it sometimes. Other shrieks, cries of pain, low growls, and of course the humans themselves. There are dozens of them, shuffling around like ants in a colony as they make their rounds.
I assume my fellow captives are experiments like myself, given that I’m project number ninety-seven.
They want to learn and do something with us I’m sure, but I can’t find any clue as to what. But whatever the case, the fact remains that my life has been and will continue to be one massive examination.
As for sustenance, today’s morning snack consisted of something more natural – leafy and green. Just looking at it was irritating me.
I understand that they sought to understand both my strengths and weaknesses, but this was clearly a repeat test. I hate anything green with a passion, and the scientists were perfectly aware. Some plants made me barf just by being near them. I had learned to associate the color green with inedibility, and this was no exception. And yet I was forced to eat, for I would need the energy down the line I’m sure. Such was the way to survive, and I had grown accustomed to such trials anyway.
Despite the daily challenges and discomfort imposed by experimental meals, I eagerly anticipated the subsequent morning trials. Termed "class" by the humans, these sessions provided me with the only opportunity to delve into the world beyond the confines of the cage that trapped me.
They started with language instruction, where the lessons swiftly expanded into realms of “mathematics” and “strategy” as soon as signs of my intelligence emerged. Mostly puzzles and the like that I could solve with my claws. They also did some brief mentions of what they called the supernatural, but most of it flew over my head. At the least it was good information to think on.
Always in the early morning hours, following my first meal when my focus was typically at its peak, these educational sessions were the only activities that I really welcomed. It was the only thing I really could welcome. I had some control, but most importantly, they entailed no physical or mental harm. It was a stark contrast to the unpredictable and often unpleasant nature of every other experiment, and these lessons had become a sort of sanctuary for me.
They allowed me to engage with something I genuinely enjoyed. Though certain limitations existed, such as my inability to communicate. I could nod or shake my head, but my mandibles weren’t capable of producing any human words. It was always a somewhat one-sided learning experience, but the sheer joy of absorbing knowledge and escaping the monotony of staring at the walls of the cage I inhabited made these sessions more than satisfying.
Alas the day would only go down from there, the rest of my schedule occupied by physical testing. Very physical testing. I feel that torture would be the better word. When they first created me, physical testing was minimal. It started off somewhat gently, a blood test here and there, and a few cuts or scratches to test regeneration, but now they did whatever they could to get a rise out of me after I got used to their methods. They said something about stimulation, but the only thing being stimulated were my pain receptors.
It didn't make sense anymore; each day was worse than the last as they found a new method to inflict pain. Again, I understand their goals as scientists, but it was weird for them to do the same thing over and over again yet expect different results. That's just insanity.
At first it was the “cattle prods,” followed by blunt force trauma to test the strength of my exoskeleton, and now their most recent amputations while I was wide awake. It wouldn’t really hurt me in the long run considering my regeneration, but I hated every moment I had to try and walk with three legs or have an imbalance with only 3 arms.
The torture had seemed without purpose, until yesterday. For once the scientists held back on their testing, instead prompting me to carry out various tasks, most of which made no sense. What did it even mean to exert your will on an object? Of course I failed their tasks miserably, they made bad instructors.
But I did manage to succeed in another fashion. While physical exertion of my will seemed impossible, the mental had come easily after some explanation. I had longed to voice my thoughts to my captors, and I succeeded in doing so when I was attempting to express frustration at their seemingly impossible command to exert force on a rock.
The humans declared that I had an aptitude for “telepathy,” the field of the psyche dealing with the manipulation of the mind. I had used the simplest ability in the field of telepathy, what was called “mental communication.” Obviously, it was non-verbal, a one-sided connection of our minds that allowed me direct thoughts into my target’s mind as if I was talking.
The scientists were initially elated at the discovery, but given some time to think, their opinions on the matter seemed to have split down the middle by yesterday evening. Contrary to the initial support of my growth, some strongly opposed the idea of letting my abilities grow, arguing it was too dangerous. In fact, they even put a collar on me while I was asleep that restricted my newfound abilities.
Apparently, their goal was never for me to access psychic powers, especially telepathy.
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***
I watched as the first few scientists shuffled into the room for class, only to realize that something was off when the facility head made an appearance. More and more individuals poured into the room, where it soon became clear that the lessons for today had been canceled.
Rather than work together, they all seemed to argue amongst themselves. At least until the head shut them all up when his cane met the ground with a resounding crack. He commanded the entire room with his presence, and even I'm drawn to attention. It's frustrating how they've trained me to react to their whims.
“Kyraa is a risk that must be disposed of. A faulty product, one that we must get rid of before it’s too late.”
The head announces, striking the floor once again as discourse arises. Many nod their heads in agreement, while some clearly want to voice their opinions. I too would like to join the discourse given that this is my future we’re talking about. They aren’t planning to put me down, are they?
Fortunately, given their standing as civil scientists, rather than speak all at once, the opposing party on my side quickly selects a spokesperson to debate the head. One that I recognized actually. The head of project Ninety-Seven.
“Dr. Hodges, with all due respect, Kyraa is not an asset worth losing. Capable mages are scarce, but a psychic of Kyraa's caliber is a rarity beyond measure. You've read my reports, you know how quickly she matures. Not to mention she's yet to hit our anticipated breaking point. Clients would pay handsomely for Kyraa once they know of her abilities. We could even add her to the scavengers if she does not sell.
My point is, losing Kyraa would be a detriment not only to our ranks but to the very fabric of our strategic goal. We must reconsider any decision that jeopardizes such a unique and powerful ally.”
"This creature is not our ‘ally’; she's a tool and she's aware of it. Telepathy is a dangerous discipline, and you know it. No right-minded individual would purchase a creature that can manipulate their mind. If it was pyrokinesis or the like we could tone her down, but it's near impossible to make use of a telepath.
I understand that this is your project, but you must let it go. You are too attached, even giving the creature a name it is not worthy of. We keep Ninety-seven shackled in a cage under constant surveillance for a reason." Tool? Unworthy? Despite my growth, I was just another monster to these humans.
"But she's precisely what we desired! Kyraa adapts and learns faster than other projects. We are on the verge of discovering compatible species for reproduction. She would be the first artificial monster capable of producing offspring. Imagine if we could pass on traits? If we continue to educate and begin to value her, we could reach a compromise intellectually—an option rarely available with other monsters."
“Ninety-Seven is exactly what I was hoping to see in this project, but there are too many downsides to this project. For one, we’ve kept it too long while you wait for it to mature. She should have been disposed of when she failed to sell last month. Sell? They tried to sell me. Do they try to sell all their monsters?
The Brotherhood cannot make use of monsters that it cannot control. Kyraa is a liability, and with this development spending any more time on her will only be a waste of resources. Project Ninety-Seven is to be marked as a failure. It is terminated, and that is final.” The doctor announces, briefly turning to me.
Of course, I offer a silent plea and shake my head at his decision, to which the old man scoffs as he continues to give my verdict. He was aware of my sentience just as well as everyone else, and yet he chooses to ignore me. What if I wanted to cooperate to survive? What if I had a perspective that could change his opinion? Sure, humans created me, but that didn’t mean I was below them.
I deserved respect. I was just as smart as they were. I could do the same things if not more. The only thing dividing us were our statuses as human and monster.
“I want ninety-seven’s corpse to be disposed of by midnight. Use what you have learned here to produce a better product." He concludes, and with a final strike of his cane the head leaves, most of the scientists following him. The few left behind begin the process of cleaning out the room, collecting papers and tools lying on the nearby table. Some look at me as they work, the disappointment of losing the product of their labor plastered on their face. Others look out of pity, but no one says anything as the materials are carried out in silence despite my gestures. They file out until the project head is left who, with a sigh, reaches for the one tool that they had left behind.
I knew it all too well. The massive needle they used to pass the thick skin of my abdomen and inject their concoctions inside. Given the clear-ish liquid inside, it was clear that they were going to put me to sleep before “disposing” of me. It would produce the least resistance after all. Struggling as I might, the chains weren't going anywhere, and the familiar feeling of liquid being injected into my body made me go limp. There was no point in resisting at this point, and it was all I could do to loathe Hodges…..no the “Brotherhood” as I slowly fell into a slumber.
Maybe I shouldn't have tried, maybe I should've never listened, but was it really my fault? Born with nothing only to return to nothing. Was this really my end? What had I done to deserve such a fate?
Something in me snapped. I cursed the world, I cursed Hodges, I cursed the Brotherhood, I cursed the entire system that had brought me to this moment of helplessness and betrayal. They created me, used me, and then discarded me without a second thought. Anger and frustration boiled within me as I faced the ultimate injustice of being deemed unworthy of existence.
I cursed the fate that had led me to this point, wondering what I had done to deserve such a cruel and heartless end. Born into a world of pain and suffering, only to be condemned to return to nothingness at the whims of those who saw me as nothing more than a failed experiment.
As the sedative took hold and darkness crept into my consciousness, I held onto that anger, that defiance. Even in my final moments of awareness, I refused to accept their judgment of me. I would not be silenced or forgotten without a fight. I promised to climb out the depths of hell to make them feel my wrath. Just as the world had taken from me, so I would take from it world.
And yet, I never died. Waking up to a constant hot burn overhead, I found half my body in a long flowing body of murky water that reeked of defecation. A contaminated river that flowed green and brown rather than clear like I had been taught.
All around are dying brown weeds with no “floras” anywhere in sight. The other half of my body that is drying off from the murky water rested on a small incline of some sort of hill. The air was malodorous, rank with human garbage. Flies buzzed everywhere, swarming rotten carcasses that are far too gone to make any sense of identity. A perfect dumping place for trash like me.
My body ached, especially my neck, a sharp sting stopping me from lifting my head. There was a long gash on the side of my neck, the spot where they must've slit my throat. The bleeding had subsided, but the pain still remained, as well as an overwhelming hunger.
How long had I been out? Where am I? Why was I alive? Is that the “sun?” A wave of questions clouded my mind, and I suppressed them with a deep breath. A whole world of unknown was around me…and most importantly, I was alive.
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Chimeras
A chimera is a being between worlds whose body is created with a combination of unique creatures that in turn become a unique monster. Chimeras are seldom capable of reproduction and can only be created via rituals or other special methods.