I’ve Become A Broken Experiment, A Girl

✦ Chapter 2 — Mr. Friendly Researcher  ✦

「Translator – Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

*tap tap*

A dull sensation registers against my head, a gentle intrusion into my consciousness.

Ah, it was not a psychological stimulus, but a physical one.

Like delicate raindrops, someone’s fingers were brushing against my head.

“Ah, you’re awake?”

A voice tinged with an uncommon gentleness tapped my ears.

I raised my head to meet its source.

Half-rimmed glasses that caught the sterile light, framing untamed hair and a blue tie that was hanging askew, while one hand cradled a paper bag, with a promise of bread within.

“I was worried when I found you collapsed in front of the bars.”

Ah, it is the kind researcher.

Their name… I don’t know it. I’ve never asked, and they’ve never offered.

They’re an anomaly here, a singular presence who seeks me out beyond the cold parameters of experimentation.

Occasionally they inquire about my discomfort, sometimes bringing morsels of food.

Unlike other researchers who avoid this area unless conducting experiments.

A peculiar individual indeed.

Well then, since the researcher has come, I should rise to greet them—

*Thud—*

I tried to rise again—

*thud*

Tried to—

“Wait, wait, stop! If movement burdens you so, remain still! Why are you forcing yourself to rise without being ordered to? You’ve startled me…!”

Ah, a new directive.

Having received the order to stop, I abandoned my attempts to rise and simply gaze at the researcher.

“………”

Silence draped itself around us like a heavy curtain.

The researcher’s deep brown eyes quivered slightly.

Come to think of it, didn’t they mention being too new to have entered the laboratory yet?

With such a gentle disposition, I wonder how they’ll react when we eventually cross paths in the laboratory.

They really should steel themselves soon… eh?

Something shifted in their expression, a ripple of disquiet.

Their emotional state appeared to be more agitated now than just a mere moments ago…

“Your… legs…”

Legs?

At their words, I glanced down at my lower body.

My legs were firmly attached.

Not that it particularly mattered whether they were or not.

Ah, perhaps they’re referring to these marks?

It’s nothing significant.

Merely some ruptured muscle tissue.

When was it… I believe they were intact until about two days ago.

Well, it’s not as if the bones were completely shattered—this level of pain was quite manageable.

Ah, I see now.

The researcher must find my violet-stained legs grotesque.

Yes, I understand. Purple legs would certainly appear strange.

Although my social awareness was slow to catch up, I decided to curl my legs away, hiding them as best I could to spare the kind researcher’s discomfort.

“………”

And yet watching my attempts, the researcher’s expression only darkened further.

I wonder why.

Perhaps it would have been better to cleanly excise them rather than this clumsy attempt at concealment?

But unfortunately, there was nothing here suitable for amputation.

All that remain was this corpse-like vessel of a body.

“…I’m sorry.”

Oh?

Words of apology spilled unexpectedly from the researcher’s kind lips.

But why?

There is no reason for them to apologize to me.

After all, they haven’t done anything to me at all?

Or perhaps there is someone else here besides the researcher and myself?

If the apology was meant for another, that would make more sense…

*Thud—*

The paper bag dropped before my bewildered expression — and inside it were red bean bread and milk.

“This is all I can do for you.”

With those final words and eyes full of pity, the kind researcher finally left.

And all that was left behind was — the bread, milk, and one test subject.

I reached for the bread fallen upon the cold floor, bringing it to my lips for a single bite.

Wa-ang—

*chomp*

*chew chew*

…

The taste… however, refused to register itself.

⚜

How long has it been since the researcher left?

An hour? Half a day? A day?

Time seems to have stretched considerably, yet I can’t quite grasp how much has passed.

The laboratory lights never go dark.

At least since I’ve been here, while my vision has flickered to darkness, the laboratory lights have never once gone out.

Shift work, they call it.

With no distinction between day and night, no clock to mark the hours, and memories fragmented like broken glass, my sense of time shattered long ago.

I once tried various peculiar methods to count the days, desperate attempts that mostly proved futile.

The one that lasted longest was… ah, yes.

Making marks on the wall for each experiment.

One vertical line for each experiment endured.

When four vertical lines accumulated, a horizontal stroke across the all.

“…hm.”

Memories surfaced like bubbles in still water.

I recalled consoling my battered self after each mark—‘you survived another day’—how naïve those moments seem now.

Such innocent simplicity.

Harboring foolish hopes that ‘someone might come to save me someday,’ I added marks daily with bloodied, desiccating fingers.

*Slash—*

After one experiment ended,

*Slash—*

Through two experiments,

*Slash—*

A week gone by,

*Slash—*

A month disappeared,

*Slash—*

*Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash— Slash—, Slash—, Slash—, Slash—*

*Slash—*

When one wall section filled completely, I ceased counting.

*Slash—*

As two wall sections became saturated, I began drawing something other than lines,

*Slash—*

When the final wall stood half-covered, I abandoned drawing altogether.

It was all meaningless.

Perhaps deep down, I already knew.

No, I definitely knew.

Though I knew the truth, I desperately denied it, forcing meaning into these futile actions.

I harbored ideals then.

What were they again… escape? Freedom? Something like that.

How foolish. Even more foolish to have chosen such useless things as ideals.

As marks multiplied endlessly, as indelible scars etched themselves into flesh, as unbearable pain enveloped every fiber of my being, I endured, still dreaming of those ideals.

Ideals were supposed to be comforting, warm, and soothing.

Not realizing that these ideals—fragile as sandcastles—would inflict unbearable pain the moment they collide with reality, I dreamed on, denying the truth before my eyes.

Ideals are not omnipotent.

The more one clings to them, the weaker their effect becomes, while doubt about their unrealized promises only grows stronger. Eventually, these ideals begin to reconstruct and twist reality, desperate to make the approaching truth more palatable.

How is this any different from a drug?

Fortunately, I managed to awaken before drowning in these ideals.

Freedom? What an absurd notion.

I abandoned my past self who mistakenly thought itself human, and accepted my true nature as a test subject.

I love humanity.

I love the research facility.

I love the experiments.

After all, I’m contributing to humanity’s glorious advancement.

It’s something to be proud of.

Yes.

That’s right.

It must be so.

I gave up everything else.

Abandoned it all.

Everything’s broken.

How strange.

Because if that’s not true—

Then none of this makes sense.

*Crackle—*

A soft noise rang in my ears.

My vision blurred, thoughts fragmented.

A hazy mist filled my eyes, ears, and mind.

Reality began to reconstruct itself, my field of vision inverted.

“Mmm…?”

Harsh light, and a white ceiling.

Limbs bound, surroundings sterile and bright enough to make my eyes ache… ah, the laboratory.

I raised my head again.

Although there were transparent glass walls, I could see researchers in their white coats.

One of them who appeared to be the team leader.

And four subordinate researchers.

Usually it’s just these five… oh?

But there was one more.

Someone behind the team leader, seemingly explaining something in detail, their appearance strangely familiar.

I squinted slightly, focusing my vision to observe more carefully…

Oh my.

It was the kind researcher.

I was wondering when they would bring you in – seems like today is your first time participating in an experiment.

I’d wave hello if I could, but with my hands like this… that might prove difficult.

Perhaps I could wiggle around instead.

*Flop—, Flop—*

Now I’m just like a fish on a cutting board.

The kind researcher, who was speaking with the team leader, seems to have noticed my energetic greeting as their gaze turns toward me.

Hey there, kind researcher.

Noticing that I’m awake, they approach the glass wall.

“——————”

The kind researcher was saying something while looking at me, but it seems they didn’t realize the wall was soundproofed.

Someone really should tell them.

It’s rather unpleasant watching someone earnestly speak through a silent wall, spewing darkened fluid—though I doubt they’d be doing the latter, but still, better safe than sorry.

I shook my head side to side to let them know I wasn’t able to hear their voice.

“———!”

But they stumbled backward, somewhat shocked.

Perhaps embarrassed at having addressed a soundproof barrier all this time?

Since it was their first time in the laboratory, let’s all graciously overlook their discomfort.

“*Krkkkkk*—”

Oh my, what a start!

My body instinctively reacted to the sudden microphone sound.

“Ah, ah, Test Subject ECP-32Y, can you hear me?”

*Nod—, Nod—*

I can hear you perfectly well.

“Today we’re testing drug resistance. The explanation… well, you’ve been through this enough times to know, haven’t you?”

Of course. I know it very well.

Soon those articulated mechanical arms will descend upon me en masse, piercing me with their needles.

Bound as I am, I’ll be helplessly subjected to it all.

Not that I’d consider defending myself anyway.

But more concerning—the kind researcher’s complexion seemed worse than before; they appeared to want to something to say… mouth hesitating, expression restless.

It looks like they want to make some suggestion to the team leader.

If it was about the experiment, they really shouldn’t hesitate—better to speak quickly.

*Tick—, Tock—*

Time was ticking away.

“Well then, do your best not to die.”

“Team leader, wait—”

*Ding—*

Ah, what a shame. A rare chance to hear the kind researcher’s words, cut short so abruptly.

How unfortunate.

It seems I will have to wait until the next experiment to hear their suggestion.

END of CHAPTER

☩

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