My people skills have paid off. Maybe it was a fluke. Today my “mechanics” (that’s what I’ve dubbed them) didn’t come in as a team per usual. Today it was just one.
I got him to talk. First time they’ve said anything to me beyond procedural words.
His name is Michael, and he doesn’t seem happy. He’s good at what he does, but I don’t think he liked the job. He told me that just like they can’t tell me anything, they can’t tell anyone outside of here anything either.
He told me if I leave (if, not when… I noticed that) then I’ll understand the burden of this secrecy. He told me the company, whose name he still won’t reveal, has a cover. It’s very covert. I wonder if he even knows the real name of this operation.
Michael even spilled that this place I’m in, that I’ve been brought to to be given new eyes, isn’t the only one. There are places all over the world doing this exact same thing. And by exact same thing I mean this:
These people take injured, or in my case disabled people, without anyone’s consent, and basically kidnap them. They bring the chosen people to a nameless, hidden facility, and without choice are given new parts. But not donated parts from live people. The parts are mechanical. I am becoming a cyborg.
I will have, supposedly, eyes that work when they are done. But special ones. Eyes that see further and see more detail. It’ll be like having a superhero ability.
Most of me is angry, and scared. I never asked for this, I have lived my whole life blind, and that’s the life I am accustomed to. They took me right off the street. I was on my way to see a friend (who I can only imagine was left confused and hopefully concerned for me) and just walking down the street when I hear a van door slide open, and then… they just grabbed me. They covered my mouth before I could even begin to scream. Of course there was no way for me to see them coming, but I still blame myself for not paying more attention that day. I could have HEARD something.
I was never told where we were going, why they took me, or any other defining information. I didn’t hear them talk at all until they were strapping me to a bed to begin their testing. But they only said things like “lay still” or threaten sedatives. If I was uncooperative they would drug me. I’ve lost track of how many times they have drugged me now, and tend to just go along with it instead. What point is there in fighting it?
I managed to get my “friend” Michael to tell me other thigns too. Mostly he just got comfortable chatting and spilled the beans on a few things.
There was most certainly a reason they chose me (although he didn’t know what it was), as there was for each candidate. In fact, they chose so carefully almost no one was rejected from the procedure. And it wasn’t just blind people. Apparently my friend had seen others get converted to less-than-human status and I was the first blind man he saw. A lady with new feet and legs. A man with multiple injuries being repaired in another location right now, who had been hurt very badly in a factory accident (though part of me wonders how much of an “accident” it was… if they research their patients first). A woman who had been released after a successful addition of new hands.
I’m not sure if knowing I wasn’t alone in this was comforting or scary. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about those people. They were… the only others who would ever understand what I was going through. Two had even come out of this successfully! Should I be excited? Is there actually a chance that implanting all these robotics in might be successful and wont kill me?
It seemed that the befriended employee’s chatter only left me with more questions. I was so unsettled, he must have seen it on my face. He clammed up after that and sadly, Michael was never one of my mechanics again.
Surely, there are cameras that monitor me. Surely, someone saw him talk. My only “friend” here lasted about fifteen minutes, but at least it happened. He did say in there somewhere that it wouldn’t be much longer until they would ask me to test out my new eyes. I should be excited. That little part of me that wasn’t angry… was hopeful.
I might see. For the first time.