Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The True Lives
Written by Deming.
The screen bloomed into life from the darkness. It erupted with words blinking and zoomed down the space next to a picture of a young woman. The name next to her picture read: AEON RILEY. The picture displayed rotated slowly. A lithe hand tapped the screen and scrolled through the information.
“She's perfect for the project,” said the female figure to whom the hand belonged. “Recently relocated to Battery City with no relatives or friends close.”
“She's going to be a real asset to this company.” This comment came from a rough voice.
“Would you like us to destroy all her memories?” The Asian woman turned away from the screen to face the man. The low florescent lights illuminated his bald head and hard features.
“No. You remember what happened with Project Bulletproof.” The man never took his eyes from off the screen. “We would have to replace all of them. It's too intricate to fabricate, the subject would recognize the false memories. Only certain memories need to be replaced.” He reached out to touch the screen, his hand hovering a hair's breadth above it.
“I see. . .and what is the estimated probability of success?” The woman asked guardedly.
“In the forty-fifth percentile.”
“Forty-five percent-” she hissed.
“Is enough to proceed.” Korse's voice rose slightly. “If you have concerns, perhaps you would like to volunteer for the procedure as a test subject?” Korse turned to the woman, looking at her for the first time. The woman swallowed and turned her face from his gaze, pretending to watch the screen.
“You hired me to voice my concerns, sir.”
“And now you have. I also hired you to follow orders. Can you do that?” Korse stared the woman down with his black-hole eyes. The woman felt a shiver of fear as she held his eyes. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders.
“Of course. The procedure will work.” She surveyed the information flying across the screen again. “Her family lives on the other side of the country. We could fake emails, video calls. We have her psych profile and history. No one would be the wiser.” The woman tapped her fingers on her cheek in thought.
“Too messy. And a waste of resources. Her heart surgery is this week, and everybody knows how risky it can be.” The corners of his mouth rose slightly, unveiling his teeth in a harsh sneer.
“A tragic accident.” The woman smiled at the thought. Much less messy.
“We'll need a body double,” Korse told her after a moment of silence.
“I'll arrange everything, sir. Project Destroya is green.”
*
Party Poison wrapped his belt around his waist and then sat down. The phone started ringing, quietly though because it was night. He debated for moment whether or not to pick it up. He decided to let it go to the machine. Someone could check it in the morning, Party Poison had a watch shift to get ready for. He checked his gun to make sure it was loaded and in good order before pulling his boots on. The machine picked up the call as he was strapping his boots.
“Hi guys, it's Aeon.”
Party Poison stilled.
“I was just calling to see how you are doing.” She hesitated, her voice sounding subdued. “I haven't heard from you guys in a while. I. . .I guess you've been busy.” This pause was longer than the last one. Party Poison could hear her exhale her breath. He held his own. “Look, I'm going in for surgery tomorrow morning. I'm just letting you know. I hope Amara is well. Tell her I miss her. I miss you all.” Another pause. “Hope to see you soon.” She hung up.
Party Poison let out his breath. He was still for a few moments before finishing lacing up his
boots. He double-checked his gun and then put it in his holster. He was ready for his night-watch.
*
Aeon lay still on the table as the liquid anesthesia flowed directly into her veins via the I.V. drip. It chilled her arm as the cold substance worked it's way too her heart. She could feel her head becoming fuzzy as the nurses spoke to her in soothingly. She didn't focus on what they were saying, just their tones were enough. They fixed an oxygen mask over her mouth; the second dose of anesthetics.
“Just relax Aeon,” a nurse advised her, “if you start to feel sleepy, don't fight it. Take deep breaths now.”
Aeon nodded, feeling increasingly groggy as she breathed in. The gas tickled her throat, making her cough. The nurse pulled the mask away to let her cough and then returned it to her face. Aeon felt her limbs get heavy and light at the same time. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Will I dream?” She asked, holding onto the last vestige of consciousness. A nurse patted her arm reassuringly.
“No, Aeon. Sleep now.”
Aeon did as the nurse told her and slipped into oblivion.
*
The bedsheets were heavy. They pressed down on Aeon and encircled her like she was in a cocoon. She could feel all the tubes and monitoring devices attached to her body, strangest of which were wires fixed all over her head. The machines she was hooked up to beeped rhythmically, almost lulling her back into unconsciousness. But Aeon forced her eyes open and took in her surroundings.
Aeon's bed was positioned against the wall of a very large white room and even in her muddled state of mind, Aeon observed that there were no visible doors or windows. There were exercise machines to her left and a curtained off bathroom to the right. Displayed on the walls and ceiling was the Better Living Industries logo, moving around slightly.
As her mind began unclogging, Aeon became alarmed. She had expected to wake up in a recovery ward or something. Was this the recovery ward? It couldn't be, it was only one room. With no way out. Aeon tried to push herself up but her left arm wrapped tightly in a sling. Wouldn't be good to disturb the fresh stitches. Her right arm searched for a remote to move the bed into a upright position but didn't find it. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat.
Just then part of the wall in front of her slid away and a nurse walked in, followed by Korse's imposing figure. The nurse tilted Aeon's bed upright for her and then set to work checking all the equipment. Korse strode briskly to Aeon's side.
“Where am I?” Aeon found her voice to be weak, the complete opposite of how she intended to sound.
“You're quite safe, I assure you, Ms. Riley.” Korse patted her left hand. Aeon wanted to yank it away.
“That's not what I asked.” This time she was able to make her voice sound adequately harsh. Korse's hand tightened around hers like a vice.
“I would be a little more grateful, if I were you, Ms. Riley, after we went to all this trouble to make sure you recover properly. We even built you your own room.”
“You mean my own cell?” Aeon spat through gritted teeth, if he squeezed any harder he might break bones. “Why did you go to all that trouble?”
“You are a very talented young woman and we-”
“I told you I wasn't interested!” More than ever Aeon wished her arm wasn't in a sling. She wanted to rip that smug look off his face.
“I'm sure we can convince you to change your mind.” Korse released her hand just as the nurse injected something into her IV.
“People will come looking for me,” she said as the drugs leaked into her veins.
“No, they won't.” With that Korse and the nurse strode out of the room, leaving Aeon alone in a half-consciousness.
*
The passage of time was indiscernible. Aeon slowly lost her grip on reality. She was restrained to the soft cloud she lay on. The once-bright room was dark. The only light that showed was from the wall-screens. The images displayed on it flashing by quickly. At first the walls showed images and videos of her life, but they were wrong. They showed her things that never happened, things did happen but were different somehow. Her mind was too foggy to think about it too much, but some part of her recognized it as false. Sometimes she would protest. It hurt to protest. Anytime she denied what was on the screen, her head felt like it was on fire from the inside. She refused to give in. She no longer knew why she couldn't give in, but she knew it was important. So she screamed until her throat was raw. She struggled against the restraints, tearing her muscles and making her wrists and ankles bleed.
Sometimes they came into to feed her. But she would bite the hands that fed her. She clamped her mouth shut tightly. They had to bring in a metal thing to pry her mouth open. They put a tube down her throat and force food into her stomach. She struggled, gagging, crying, screaming. It was no use, but she fought every time they came. She began to hate being fed more than the fire inside her mind.
Aeon began to notice that there were gaps, in her memories. Nebulous blanks that caused Aeon to distress. She couldn't remember where she was. She didn't know how she got here. The questions burned her soul and drove her to near-madness. Why couldn't she remember? The screens began to answer her questions. They filled in the blanks in her memory. They gave her relief from madness. It was comforting to be able to remember.
She was recently orphaned. Her parents didn't leave her any money. She was going to die because she couldn't get the surgery she needed. Then BL/Ind stepped in. Their charity program found her and paid for her moving expenses. She would go to Battery City and have her operation for free. BL/Ind was so generous. Aeon owed her life to BL/Ind. She would work to pay them back. Aeon would work for BL/Ind. They saved her life. She owed her life to BL/Ind. She needed to pay them back. Aeon should get a job at Better Living Industries.
Eventually Aeon was able to get out of bed. The nurses put her on a treadmill and other exercise machines because she had lost some muscle-mass during her recovery time. She could feel her head beginning to clear. Everything that went on in the room before seemed like a vague nightmare, though it was an ever-present warning of the madness she could slip back into. All the while, the screens showed her things she would need to know for her new job. User manuals for BL/Ind equipment, schematics, computer programming information, the works. She studied hard, she had to be the best employee. They told her that if she wanted to work for BL/Ind that she would have to give up her name. BL/Ind employees do not have names. This was hard for Aeon. Her name was all she had left to remember her parents by. She spent many days pacing the room endlessly considering whether or not to go through with it. But finally it did end, and it was with resolve that Aeon decided to give up her name and work for Better Living Industries.
*
“What is your name?” Korse gazed at the girl in front of him. She was dressed in a form-fitting, black and white bodysuit that was the typical BL/Ind uniform for employees. Over her chest was the Better Living Industries logo. The girl's hair was cut short and dyed from the brown it was before to black. She stared back at him with equal intensity. If this was a staring contest, it would be a draw.
“I don't have one.” The girl's voice was flat, lacking in any emotional inflections.
Korse nodded. “Who do you work for?”
“I am an employed by Better Living Industries.”
“You have no name, what is your number?”
The girl raised her arm and showed the number that was written on her sleeve: #525957-2. The corners of Korse's mouth rose in his slippery smile. He walked around her, making sure she had regained the muscle-tone she had before. He held his hand up and the Asain woman placed a hand-held computer with her medical information on it. Korse scrolled through it, reviewing the tests, her physical fitness.
“You are fit for duty, 525957-2.” He handed the hand-held back and motioned a nurse forward. The nurse held a syringe with a large needle. “Left hand please.” The girl complied and held out her left hand for the nurse, palm-down. The nurse grabbed hold of her wrist, inserted the needle into where the wrist meets the hand, and injected the syringe's contents. If it hurt, the girl showed no sign.
“Wha. . .what was that for?” It was the first sign of hesitation, first expression of emotion during the evaluation.
“A microchip. That way if you ever get lost or if someone kidnaps you, we'll be able to find you.” Korse spoke reassuringly. Employee #525957-2 nodded, returning to her previous dispassion.
“You are officially fit for work. Dismissed.”
The girl, who had been locked in single room for weeks finally strode out of it and into the real world.
“I almost can't believe it.” This comment came from Korse's right hand, the Asian woman. Korse didn't reply as he also strode out of the room.
“BL/Ind always succeeds.” He finally spoke up.
“Except with Project Bulletproof. . .”
“We will get her back.” Korse didn't even look at her as they strode through the hallways of BL/Ind's headquarters. “She is very close.”
The Asian woman opened her mouth as if to ask him what he meant but then shut it. She knew questioning Korse was never healthy.
The screen bloomed into life from the darkness. It erupted with words blinking and zoomed down the space next to a picture of a young woman. The name next to her picture read: AEON RILEY. The picture displayed rotated slowly. A lithe hand tapped the screen and scrolled through the information.
“She's perfect for the project,” said the female figure to whom the hand belonged. “Recently relocated to Battery City with no relatives or friends close.”
“She's going to be a real asset to this company.” This comment came from a rough voice.
“Would you like us to destroy all her memories?” The Asian woman turned away from the screen to face the man. The low florescent lights illuminated his bald head and hard features.
“No. You remember what happened with Project Bulletproof.” The man never took his eyes from off the screen. “We would have to replace all of them. It's too intricate to fabricate, the subject would recognize the false memories. Only certain memories need to be replaced.” He reached out to touch the screen, his hand hovering a hair's breadth above it.
“I see. . .and what is the estimated probability of success?” The woman asked guardedly.
“In the forty-fifth percentile.”
“Forty-five percent-” she hissed.
“Is enough to proceed.” Korse's voice rose slightly. “If you have concerns, perhaps you would like to volunteer for the procedure as a test subject?” Korse turned to the woman, looking at her for the first time. The woman swallowed and turned her face from his gaze, pretending to watch the screen.
“You hired me to voice my concerns, sir.”
“And now you have. I also hired you to follow orders. Can you do that?” Korse stared the woman down with his black-hole eyes. The woman felt a shiver of fear as she held his eyes. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders.
“Of course. The procedure will work.” She surveyed the information flying across the screen again. “Her family lives on the other side of the country. We could fake emails, video calls. We have her psych profile and history. No one would be the wiser.” The woman tapped her fingers on her cheek in thought.
“Too messy. And a waste of resources. Her heart surgery is this week, and everybody knows how risky it can be.” The corners of his mouth rose slightly, unveiling his teeth in a harsh sneer.
“A tragic accident.” The woman smiled at the thought. Much less messy.
“We'll need a body double,” Korse told her after a moment of silence.
“I'll arrange everything, sir. Project Destroya is green.”
*
Party Poison wrapped his belt around his waist and then sat down. The phone started ringing, quietly though because it was night. He debated for moment whether or not to pick it up. He decided to let it go to the machine. Someone could check it in the morning, Party Poison had a watch shift to get ready for. He checked his gun to make sure it was loaded and in good order before pulling his boots on. The machine picked up the call as he was strapping his boots.
“Hi guys, it's Aeon.”
Party Poison stilled.
“I was just calling to see how you are doing.” She hesitated, her voice sounding subdued. “I haven't heard from you guys in a while. I. . .I guess you've been busy.” This pause was longer than the last one. Party Poison could hear her exhale her breath. He held his own. “Look, I'm going in for surgery tomorrow morning. I'm just letting you know. I hope Amara is well. Tell her I miss her. I miss you all.” Another pause. “Hope to see you soon.” She hung up.
Party Poison let out his breath. He was still for a few moments before finishing lacing up his
boots. He double-checked his gun and then put it in his holster. He was ready for his night-watch.
*
Aeon lay still on the table as the liquid anesthesia flowed directly into her veins via the I.V. drip. It chilled her arm as the cold substance worked it's way too her heart. She could feel her head becoming fuzzy as the nurses spoke to her in soothingly. She didn't focus on what they were saying, just their tones were enough. They fixed an oxygen mask over her mouth; the second dose of anesthetics.
“Just relax Aeon,” a nurse advised her, “if you start to feel sleepy, don't fight it. Take deep breaths now.”
Aeon nodded, feeling increasingly groggy as she breathed in. The gas tickled her throat, making her cough. The nurse pulled the mask away to let her cough and then returned it to her face. Aeon felt her limbs get heavy and light at the same time. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Will I dream?” She asked, holding onto the last vestige of consciousness. A nurse patted her arm reassuringly.
“No, Aeon. Sleep now.”
Aeon did as the nurse told her and slipped into oblivion.
*
The bedsheets were heavy. They pressed down on Aeon and encircled her like she was in a cocoon. She could feel all the tubes and monitoring devices attached to her body, strangest of which were wires fixed all over her head. The machines she was hooked up to beeped rhythmically, almost lulling her back into unconsciousness. But Aeon forced her eyes open and took in her surroundings.
Aeon's bed was positioned against the wall of a very large white room and even in her muddled state of mind, Aeon observed that there were no visible doors or windows. There were exercise machines to her left and a curtained off bathroom to the right. Displayed on the walls and ceiling was the Better Living Industries logo, moving around slightly.
As her mind began unclogging, Aeon became alarmed. She had expected to wake up in a recovery ward or something. Was this the recovery ward? It couldn't be, it was only one room. With no way out. Aeon tried to push herself up but her left arm wrapped tightly in a sling. Wouldn't be good to disturb the fresh stitches. Her right arm searched for a remote to move the bed into a upright position but didn't find it. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat.
Just then part of the wall in front of her slid away and a nurse walked in, followed by Korse's imposing figure. The nurse tilted Aeon's bed upright for her and then set to work checking all the equipment. Korse strode briskly to Aeon's side.
“Where am I?” Aeon found her voice to be weak, the complete opposite of how she intended to sound.
“You're quite safe, I assure you, Ms. Riley.” Korse patted her left hand. Aeon wanted to yank it away.
“That's not what I asked.” This time she was able to make her voice sound adequately harsh. Korse's hand tightened around hers like a vice.
“I would be a little more grateful, if I were you, Ms. Riley, after we went to all this trouble to make sure you recover properly. We even built you your own room.”
“You mean my own cell?” Aeon spat through gritted teeth, if he squeezed any harder he might break bones. “Why did you go to all that trouble?”
“You are a very talented young woman and we-”
“I told you I wasn't interested!” More than ever Aeon wished her arm wasn't in a sling. She wanted to rip that smug look off his face.
“I'm sure we can convince you to change your mind.” Korse released her hand just as the nurse injected something into her IV.
“People will come looking for me,” she said as the drugs leaked into her veins.
“No, they won't.” With that Korse and the nurse strode out of the room, leaving Aeon alone in a half-consciousness.
*
The passage of time was indiscernible. Aeon slowly lost her grip on reality. She was restrained to the soft cloud she lay on. The once-bright room was dark. The only light that showed was from the wall-screens. The images displayed on it flashing by quickly. At first the walls showed images and videos of her life, but they were wrong. They showed her things that never happened, things did happen but were different somehow. Her mind was too foggy to think about it too much, but some part of her recognized it as false. Sometimes she would protest. It hurt to protest. Anytime she denied what was on the screen, her head felt like it was on fire from the inside. She refused to give in. She no longer knew why she couldn't give in, but she knew it was important. So she screamed until her throat was raw. She struggled against the restraints, tearing her muscles and making her wrists and ankles bleed.
Sometimes they came into to feed her. But she would bite the hands that fed her. She clamped her mouth shut tightly. They had to bring in a metal thing to pry her mouth open. They put a tube down her throat and force food into her stomach. She struggled, gagging, crying, screaming. It was no use, but she fought every time they came. She began to hate being fed more than the fire inside her mind.
Aeon began to notice that there were gaps, in her memories. Nebulous blanks that caused Aeon to distress. She couldn't remember where she was. She didn't know how she got here. The questions burned her soul and drove her to near-madness. Why couldn't she remember? The screens began to answer her questions. They filled in the blanks in her memory. They gave her relief from madness. It was comforting to be able to remember.
She was recently orphaned. Her parents didn't leave her any money. She was going to die because she couldn't get the surgery she needed. Then BL/Ind stepped in. Their charity program found her and paid for her moving expenses. She would go to Battery City and have her operation for free. BL/Ind was so generous. Aeon owed her life to BL/Ind. She would work to pay them back. Aeon would work for BL/Ind. They saved her life. She owed her life to BL/Ind. She needed to pay them back. Aeon should get a job at Better Living Industries.
Eventually Aeon was able to get out of bed. The nurses put her on a treadmill and other exercise machines because she had lost some muscle-mass during her recovery time. She could feel her head beginning to clear. Everything that went on in the room before seemed like a vague nightmare, though it was an ever-present warning of the madness she could slip back into. All the while, the screens showed her things she would need to know for her new job. User manuals for BL/Ind equipment, schematics, computer programming information, the works. She studied hard, she had to be the best employee. They told her that if she wanted to work for BL/Ind that she would have to give up her name. BL/Ind employees do not have names. This was hard for Aeon. Her name was all she had left to remember her parents by. She spent many days pacing the room endlessly considering whether or not to go through with it. But finally it did end, and it was with resolve that Aeon decided to give up her name and work for Better Living Industries.
*
“What is your name?” Korse gazed at the girl in front of him. She was dressed in a form-fitting, black and white bodysuit that was the typical BL/Ind uniform for employees. Over her chest was the Better Living Industries logo. The girl's hair was cut short and dyed from the brown it was before to black. She stared back at him with equal intensity. If this was a staring contest, it would be a draw.
“I don't have one.” The girl's voice was flat, lacking in any emotional inflections.
Korse nodded. “Who do you work for?”
“I am an employed by Better Living Industries.”
“You have no name, what is your number?”
The girl raised her arm and showed the number that was written on her sleeve: #525957-2. The corners of Korse's mouth rose in his slippery smile. He walked around her, making sure she had regained the muscle-tone she had before. He held his hand up and the Asain woman placed a hand-held computer with her medical information on it. Korse scrolled through it, reviewing the tests, her physical fitness.
“You are fit for duty, 525957-2.” He handed the hand-held back and motioned a nurse forward. The nurse held a syringe with a large needle. “Left hand please.” The girl complied and held out her left hand for the nurse, palm-down. The nurse grabbed hold of her wrist, inserted the needle into where the wrist meets the hand, and injected the syringe's contents. If it hurt, the girl showed no sign.
“Wha. . .what was that for?” It was the first sign of hesitation, first expression of emotion during the evaluation.
“A microchip. That way if you ever get lost or if someone kidnaps you, we'll be able to find you.” Korse spoke reassuringly. Employee #525957-2 nodded, returning to her previous dispassion.
“You are officially fit for work. Dismissed.”
The girl, who had been locked in single room for weeks finally strode out of it and into the real world.
“I almost can't believe it.” This comment came from Korse's right hand, the Asian woman. Korse didn't reply as he also strode out of the room.
“BL/Ind always succeeds.” He finally spoke up.
“Except with Project Bulletproof. . .”
“We will get her back.” Korse didn't even look at her as they strode through the hallways of BL/Ind's headquarters. “She is very close.”
The Asian woman opened her mouth as if to ask him what he meant but then shut it. She knew questioning Korse was never healthy.
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