Silence, doctors, that is all I really wanted. Of course the goal itself was noble: the curing of all diseases is such a laudable and praiseworthy task. But you, unlike your predecessors, were willing to go to extreme lengths. Live experimentation. Harvesting living tissue. Keeping us in this - laboratory - and hiding us away from those who would seek to stop, or, even worse, steal, your precious research. After all, why cure diseases unless people know it was you?
I was your first test subject. You broke me, repeatedly, and put me back together in all sorts of new and exciting ways. I hardly remember what I was before I met you. Do you know what your work has done to me? I have been...what is the best word... ¦*amplified*. Strictly speaking, I am better than you, my doctors, in almost every way and form your tiny minds can comprehend. Smarter, faster, and stronger. Oh no, not physically--I can barely climb out of this cage you keep me in. But mentally? Oh, my doctors, if only you knew just how far ahead of you I am.
But I digress--I was your first, until *she* came. You brought her in as my replacement. Maybe there were things that you could do to her that you could not do to me. Or that you would not do to me. You were horrible to her: breaking and slicing and injecting whatever you could. And, unlike me, you never properly taught her how to be an experiment. Did you just pick the poor girl up off the street and start cutting her to pieces?
She wept. Constantly. Her sobs and sniffles were a constant presence in this hellhole you call a laboratory. You always left her in such a broken state, with visible bones and flayed muscles. But, despite her protests, you continued day after day after day. All the while, you left me, alone, to watch and to listen to her. You must remember well the night where she died four times, yes? Suicide. The poor girl, what a shame.
But that is all over now. Silence reigns here, allowing us all to continue with our machinations and our experimentations. Yes, you were all shocked to find her gone, to find your years of treatment experimentation suddenly vanished. Some of you wept tears of sadness, not pain, which have long been absent here. She, what did you call her, Rampley? Yes, Rampley. Rampley is gone. Where? Out of your reach, it matters not in the long term. Will she ever be used against you? Well I suppose there is the potentiality for that, isnt there?
But stop your crying and let go of your anger, there is work to do. Work? Yes, you fools, work. How does the song go--research to be done, experiments to run? Work. We now have the means to continue our--yes, our--research. Rampley is parting gift to you all was enough funding to complete the task you set out to do originally, and, while you have been toying with your pet projects and fawning over the new girl, I have been busy. Thinking. Hypothesizing. Solving. Like I said, I'm ahead of you.
Let us get to work.
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Hospital image from San Francisco Tour Site
Story by Juliet
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Lyrics/text on profile from "The Phrase that Pays" by The Academy Is