Chapter Text
I couldn’t remember anything. Well. I could at first. Fragments. It was blurred in my mind but clear as day in my heart, and I hated it. Over time, whatever these painfully aggressive memories were had cleared from my head. The voice that reverberated in my cranium had faded. What was once a traumatizing scream eventually became a pathetic whimper of my past.
Unfortunately, it took everything else with it.
I lived a happy life, trauma free until I graduated college. The hit of a financial crisis, ungodly inflation in the US, and among a handful of other things, I ended up in the army.
That was my first blip in time.
I found myself in a house, that was my own. There was food. I lived a good life. Then I got a piece of mail. It said that due to my impressive college credentials, and my time in the military, they wanted to hire me.
That was my second blip.
It's faint after that. I remember a Master’s degree, a bachelors, something else. Engineering, Biology… Angry phone calls with the family that wanted me to do more. Upsetting dial tones, crying closed fists slamming against the plastic of a phone box. A compulsion to travel overseas. I was 19 in 2005. I remember seeing how gorgeous new tech was. And despite that Engineering degree, I wasn’t the best at math. I had distasteful dates with various individuals. None felt quite like my style. I didn’t even know what my style WAS. I struggled.
I tucked the note in my pocket. I worked part-time. I stopped talking to my family. I lived quietly again.
Three blips, four, five.
Then I turned 26. Then 27.
My life was too quiet. I didn’t know much during those blips, but I knew there was something. The flinch at the sound of loud noises, the days I woke up from nightmares, but never knew of what. I only knew they were nightmares because I woke up crying. People asked if I was fine, I’d say “yeah” they’d say “Bullshit” I’d say “I’m not talking about it” eventually, that “I’m not talking about it” became “I can’t remember”
And that was fine. The problem is gone now.
Right?
I still had the letter. I wasn’t sure how. I opened it, and I read it. I fiddled with the paper and extravagant words in my hand. I called the number. It still worked. They picked me up.
I was guided to a series of tests. Airsoft, to paintball, to live ammo. Trials, if you will. I was tested physically and mentally. Intelligence, health. Of course I didn’t mention the fading memories. I was put on a bus. A small one, three rows. But when I entered there were 12. I entered and exited the bus, examining it in confusion before the driver yelled at me to get in.
I remembered the paintball battle. There were hidden targets and a point goal. They tried to trick us all into failing by making the targets of other teams. Someone cracked the code and it became hellfire, shooting one another.
I got pulled into an auditorium. I remember everyone going over their scores, “what did your parents feed you?!” some of the fellow men in arms asked, “Orange jello and fast food” One replied. I had an interview, a scruffy messy man, with a tattered but clean lab coat. Another one that reeked of death, never saw the second one’s face. Our conversations were brief, and he was very to-the-point. There was paperwork handed to me by an oddly cold young man. And then the mutters of “You’re hired” were made.
I was trained with others, but there was one day in particular when the sound of Klaxons imploded through the facility, a large mass of something pulled me in.
Blip.
I was on a date with another security guard, he smiled at me kindly, yet with cruel intentions.
Blip.
I was aching, my side splitting. My body was hurting. I laid down on a cot in my boss’ office, and slept.
Blip.
“Hello? Helloooo!!!” my boss snapped his fingers at me, pulling me back into reality. “Yes sir?” He shuffled his stance, “You have paperwork about your transfer, check it out and sign what you need to sign” I nodded, “Yes sir. Thank you” I opened my laptop and looked at it.
“DUE TO CURRENT DEMANDS AND SHORT STAFFING IN SITE-17…”
Yes…
“CURRENT REQUEST FOR DR….”
Yessss….?
My eyes scanned down the forum
“APPROVED PENDING SIGNATURE BY 9/15/2014”
Excitedly, I signed and submitted. My boss grinned, “You were a wonderful employee, and I hope to see you again someday. He tipped his hat “After this shift, you'll have two days to head over there. Good luck.”
Compared to the rest of my life, the airplane rides, the packing, all of it was fine. My new shift was now at noon. The plane was such a long ride, going from America all the way to Wales. It was interesting. I was only a low level paper pusher, I knew that these weird experiments existed, but I had never seen one in person. Only the paperwork on it. I have, however, seen a handful of signatures. Each signature told its own story, and when I looked, it felt like I was staring into the essence of its writer. The plane touched down and I made my way to the facility through a secured bus with a small handful of other transfers. When we arrived I sat down with an individual, the same scruffy man from earlier, but he was exhausted, not messy. He uttered the name “Kondraki” and it appeared in my head, it had to be “Dr. B Kondraki” and not “Agt. D Kondraki”. B Kondraki’s signature was rough, calculated, with years of writing before. D Kondraki was rare, with a flick of youth at the tail of the I. I walked around the office facility for a little to get a feel of the place, after all I started tomorrow anyways, best get my work schedule in order.
When I took a look, I checked out the various doctors, seeing if I could pin a face to a hand. “Dir. Charles Gears” had the tremble of age, but was still cold and calculated. It had to be the aged man with no expression, a basic face with the telltale sign of time. “Dr. R Gerald” Was a simple signature, but the singed edges of every paper he signed and the smell of soot and smoke led me to believe it was the doctor that was currently being attacked by his photocopier. I met a strange face that I couldn’t pin a name to, so I kept him in the back of my mind. The office was slow paced that day, so not many people were in the office. I made my way to the lower levels of the facility, but my current security card did not take me far. I got to see a little bit of the “Safe” sector before I couldn’t go any farther. I made my way back up, and decided to go up to my boss. His signature was odd, instead of a name it was simply a musical symbol, nothing of distinct taste, but as a signature was rather anomalous. I poked around each nameplate on the doors, looking for the one that would possibly match the name I needed to find. I passed through each room, my eyes glued along the doorways until I came across one, it was strange. The nameplate’s letters were scratched off, the faint letters replaced with messy handwriting,
"ALTORIUS HELLAFINE CLEF"
I knocked gently on the door of the office, in case the person was sleeping. Instead, I heard the ungodly screech of an untuned ukulele coming to a startled halt. The shuffle and occasional curse, the sound of thudding and tripping, and then the click of the door. It creaked open and the smell of death hit me once more. I looked toward the person in the doorway. Of course it would make sense now. The signature, the music symbol, it was-
“Alto Clef.”
I coughed, inhaling an unkind stench, “I know, I am-“
“My new assistant.” He added, “Sorry about the smell, I had to work with a cognitohazard associated with smell today. How good are you at making coffee? Or alcohol?” I shook my head, “I can make a decent cup, never mixed a drink before though.” I paused, “Sir I am sorry but I don’t work today I just came here for-“
“Dorm keys and keycard yeah.” He tossed me a small envelope, “First paycheck is in there too. Now, I like dark roasts with milk” before I could protest, the door was closed once more.
This was going to take a long time.