Back then, I really thought I was going to die, even though now the thought is alien to me. I’m immortal after all. That wasn’t always the case, I was once a normal person just like you. I had a family, friends, people I loved, and who loved me. I had a sense of duty, love even, for my country and fellow man, which I guess is how I ended up being a lab rat. Misplaced optimism, and a belief that I was doing something for the “Greater Good”, whatever that may be, led me to my greatest mistake, but also my salvation.

I never was a morning person, my mind always felt sluggish, like I was slowly emerging from a swamp that tried desperately to drag me back under. I think that’s why my first memory in the facility has remained with me for so long. I didn’t wake up like normal, instead it felt like I was always awake, immediately aware of my surroundings, and bristling with life. In front of me was a beautifully intimidating tree, an elm if I’m not mistaken, although I’m not sure how I know that since I don’t remember learning it. The dew-covered grass stretched out underneath me all the way across the ground, and even though it was soft, I knew it was a lie. Lining the field were concrete walls that couldn’t have been under 25ft high which rose sharply, then turned inwards to meet at a point above the tree. A single door, with no inside handle or window stood in the middle of the north wall.

How did I know that was north?

I’m certain that if I were to dig in this ground, I would find the same concrete only a few feet under me despite the attempt to impress a gently rolling field. Fixtures lined the ceiling in equal intervals, providing plenty of light despite not having any windows. Once again, my eyes were brought back to the tree which seemed to stand in defiance of it’s surrounding.

I think we’ll get along.

As I approached, I noticed a stream, no, a creek…no, I don’t think I can even call it that. A line of water barely wider than a garden hose weaved its way diagonally through the room, starting in the north east corner,  bringing it just past the tree before disappearing into the wall on the south west corner. I got the distinct feeling that I was meant to live here, to survive here.

With everything that was going on, finding myself in a weird room, with equally peculiar scenery, I hadn’t noticed, or rather, I hadn’t registered that I myself was different. I never was particularly weak, but the chiseled abs and perfect V always eluded me, but now, I had both. Hesitantly I ran a hand over my chest, almost fearful of being cut. Down below, my legs stood like ancient Parthenon pillars, and I had to take a step to believe they were real and functioning even though I was just walking around earlier. As if attempting to compete the picture, my skin, which use to be pocketed from acne, and blemished from too much time in the sun without protection, was now as smooth as porcelain, with a color to match. Fear began to wash over me, as I struggled to recognize who this person was. Surely this can’t be me! Just what exactly happened! My head was reeling and, in an attempt to steady myself, I knelt down and brought both my hands up to my head to keep it still.

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No.

It can’t be.

This must be a mistake.

My fingers moved frantically, in a desperate search. “This can’t be” I muttered. No matter how bad my skin was, or how many moles and skin tags I had, I could always be proud of my hair. As thick as the mighty Amazon with a color of the Sahara at night, softer than the words of a comfortable lover, and now, it’s a barren wasteland. All I could think about was my hair, my first love, as tears streamed down my face, my hands now limp at my side, a symbol of a broken mind.

I know what you’re thinking, trust me, I do. “It’s just hair man, calm down!” But for someone who had nothing, who had less than nothing, no redeeming features, and a bland personality, my hair was the only tool I had to work with. I’m sure someone who’s never struggled, could never understand that kind of loss, but now I’m also certain that someone who has never struggled, could have never succeeded in this program.

Looking back on it, I’m sure the shock of losing my hair was the catalyst I needed to surpass the others. As if in response to my thoughts, my desire to have my only redeeming feature back, I began to feel a stirring inside. It was an unusual feeling, like, being in a blender, but never dying. Ripping and tearing, as if a thousand paper cuts were occurring inside of me, and then a heat radiating from my whole body, finally accumulating at my skull, like I fell asleep on a heating pad, began to make its way to the top of my head. Not long after it started, it suddenly died down, then, as if nothing had happened, it was gone.

What was that? What just happened. On instinct, I reached up to scratch my head in a quizzical fashion only to be met by something soft. Where just moments ago lay a barren wasteland, the Mighty Amazon has sprung up! “What!?” I blurted out, confusion clear on my face and in my voice. Was i just dreaming that I lost my hair, no, that would be a nightmare. It is undeniable though that it was gone one moment, and there the next. I didn’t have a mirror to look, and the stream…creek thing was to narrow to use for reflection, even then, I knew almost instinctually that my hair had come back exactly how I imagined it just moments earlier! I didn’t know it then, but that was the moment I awoke, in a strange room, with a beautiful tree and a fake rolling field.