Listening, always listening. In front of Milo, there is a man in a black coat telling him of his past. Telling him about his problems, as he sit in the kitchen listening. There are decorations for a party all around, held frequently so that him and his friends can be joyous. With little investigation, one can easily determine this joy false, just like the smile plastered on Milo's tight, forced lips. Eyes overflowing with a looming depression and crinkled by wrinkles reveal the truth. He is unhappy, despite all the joy he should be feeling.
As Milo sits there, dirty blond hair ruffled like a whirlpool, his mind wanders and the illusion of happiness slips, revealing the fear underneath. What if I’m the problem? Noticing my distress, the man decided to leave. However, Milo didn’t want him to leave and leave him by himself, but he couldn’t phrase the request quite right. His indecisiveness was acting up again, and misunderstanding his words, the man left, leaving him alone again.
Why am I always alone?
So thought Milo as he sat at his table set for six guests. Six plates arranged in an oval, surrounded by the clutter of knives, spoons, forks and cups. Glancing down, he found himself staring at a ceramic blue plate of a deep blue hue. The worn edges were chipped, discolored with age and misuse. Tracing a finger around the rough edge, a thought sprang to his mind. Broken, just like everything else in here. His eyes caught on the drab furniture, the tattered curtains and the squeaky door hinge that caused him to flinch every time the door was opened. As his father walks into the room, he plastered that false smile back on. He had learned long ago to never cause incidents and seem like he was alright, even when the sadness would rot out his brain with thoughts of loss, loneliness. His father walked into the kitchen, with a massive cake in his arms, as he heard the familiar squeak of the door. “Hello, son. How’re you doing? Ready to make a wish?” his father said, as he reached down to squeeze his hand. No, why would I ever make a wish? Nothing is going to change. But the only thing he did was nod timidly and clasp his hands behind his back. The guests came in, one by one in single file. They seemed to him to be as drab as the rest of the room, dressed in suits and ties. His father placed the cake on the table in front of him and lit the eighteen candles. Oh, yeah. It’s my birthday today. The guests began to sing Happy Birthday and his father patted Milo on the back. Milo leaned in and blew the candles out. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
The “Entrance”
Clack, clack went the tapping of two sets of shoes on the marble tiles. The sound reverberated through the steel encased room, causing heads to swivel towards the two newcomers. There were two men at the door, both dressed in white lab coats and both carrying a briefcase under their arm. The man on the left had balding, salt and pepper hair, a sharp gaze and a mouth that was pressed into a firm line. The man on the right was almost his complete opposite. He was still well within his youth, and surrounded by an air of anticipated exuberance. The man on the left, known as Doctor 3, was one of the three founders of the Lloyd and its subsequent experiments. Irritably, he snapped his fingers towards one of the scientists and said “You better do it right this time. I don’t pay you to make Sleepers.” The scientists immediately scurried off like reprimanded mice towards the center of the room, where seven human sized capsules waited ominously, the metal creaking in an eerie song. Several scientists were working on the massive mess of wires, pipes and pistons connected to several plexiglass tanks filled with an assortment of liquids. The man on the right, known as Doctor 444, sat down and pulled up a hologram schematic of the designees that would be undergoing the tests. At once a stream of information appeared pertaining to each child, showing a statistical analysis of every individual. “It’s a good batch we had this year, Doc. Each one brings something to the table and I’m sure they’ll all be vital in completing the objective.” Doctor 3 grunts and runs a keen eye over the gauge for the main battery. Ever so slowly, the bars filled and a light flashed green.
Everyone at the party turned in surprise at the sound of someone knocking on the door. They were all thinking about whether it could be another guest that had arrived late. James, Milo’s father, made the short trip to the door and peered out of the looking glass to see who it was. His eyes widened in surprise, and then followed by a knowing expression when he saw a short woman with two clipboards clutched in one pale hand. Her brown hair was rather frizzled and disorderly, framing her delicate face and intelligent, blue eyes that stared back at him. While it was apparent that she spent more time working than pestering with her appearance, she was still naturally comely and elegant. James opened the door and said “Welcome, Dr.Morgan. Milo, this is my coworker at the lab, she’s involved in disease treatment research, sector 17.” Turning back to the doctor James said gently “I was wondering when you would stop by.” The woman’s eyes shifted uneasily as she replied “Yes, thank you for the invitation.” and stepped into the room, nodding meaningfully at James with a serious expression. Dr. Morgan immediately walked up to Milo firmly and grasped his shoulder, pulling him out of the chair. She then grabbed James by the crook of the arm and pulled them into a quiet corner, where mysterious discussion could go unidentified. The festivities and celebration continued, oblivious to what was going on.
The woman spoke almost in a whisper, sounding like one of those phony commercials “Congratulations, you have been selected to undergo our new found treatment method.” Turning towards the father, she said “It’ll help your son with his depression through some new biochemical means. We’ve spoken about this previously as I’m sure you remember.” She then handed both Milo and his father a clipboard and pen and said, while pointing to different areas on the paper “Please sign here, here and here.” Milo took one look at the clipboard and signed immediately, his reflex was automatic. Questions that most would ask apprehensively in situations where a woman you don’t know has demanded your signature on important looking documents started floating around his head after his hand had completed the order. His impulsive behavior was a result of a lack of hope, a usual looming emotion that was present in every aspect of his ordinary life. He didn’t really think it would help him, but anything was better than this dreary place. His father however needed further convincing. “Are you sure this is perfectly safe?” he asked, a concerned look in his eye. The woman nodded quickly, perhaps too quickly and shuffled her feet nervously. All of this however, went unnoticed by her father, who had signed as the woman had nodded. The woman immediately snatched back the clipboards and cradled them once more under her right arm. With a look around the room, the woman formed a tight smile that was strangely familiar to Milo’s darker imagination. Milo and his father hugged tightly. The woman placed her left hand on Milo’s shoulder and propelled him out the door and into a black limousine parked in front of his house. As he turned back to look at his house, Milo’s eyes lit upon the pin on the woman’s shirt. Emblazoned on the head is a name, Lloyd.
The ride proceeded in silence as neither party seemed to have the nerve to say anything. Dr. Morgan fidgeted nervously in her seat like a rubber ball, bouncing up and down with every bump and seemed almost afraid. Her light frame was edgy and uneasy in her seat, as if she were sitting on spikes. She kept glancing at her watch and motioning for the driver to go faster. The driver was a sharp-nosed man who rarely spoke. He was sporting a blue burette cap and dark sunglasses that hid his eyes from view. If Milo had to hazard a guess, the man was about 53 years old, judging by the white tips of his moustache which curled upward back toward his nose. Regardless, they had no cause for conversation so Milo turned his attention to the horizon that was zooming past his window. His mind lacked what most would consider appropriate thoughts, like anxiety and a stimulus to understand what was happening to him. Frankly, his thoughts were empty and uninterested, after all thoughts of worry come from fear for your own life. But Milo’s life began to loose value after the sixth grade because of an imbalance of chemicals in his brain, or so he was told. He glanced up at the billboards amidst the gleaming cobalt towers that dominated a majority of the skyline, finding old car commercials, a new dieting program and the new Stain Wow jingle. Upon encountering these, he tried to immediately forget everything he just saw knowing that it would remain stuck in his head until he found something to purge it from his memory. Yup, it was a normal day in Lornia or it would have been if not for the strange situation in which he found himself. Alone in the back of a limo, being taken to god knows where. Not even those taking him seemed to be exactly sure of where they were going. As his mind began to run, two silent questions bubbled to the surface. Firstly, why me? Why was I chosen? Secondly, what in the world will I be doing?
Lidia:
My life has always been books. Part of my scholarship guaranteed financial support in order to purchase a Techread, the newest model of the companies electronic books available to the public, but I always preferred flipping through the ancient, papery pages of the books in the archives of the Milsdale public library. To me, these small packages of knowledge kept me safe, shielded me from my unfortunate reality of panic attacks, OCD, and my parents obvious inability to understand me. I had been in plenty of studies for teenagers suffering from extreme stress levels and insomniacs, so when Lloyd Laboratory Research arrive at my front door on a calm Sunday morning in March, I didn’t think much of it.
“Lidia Bolton?” a small man in professional attire with a comb-over consisting of small, feathery gray hairs demanded her identity with a slight annoyance, as if she owed them something, as if she was late for an appointment, as if her participation in their programs was required.
“That’s me,” Lydia remarked in a timid, attentive voice.
“My name is Martin Aliston, you will refer to me as Doctor 27. I work for Lloyd Laboratories. I’ve been told that you were expecting me some time this week, so I hope my visit is not at a too inconvenient time. May I come in? I have a few things to discuss with you before we take you to our research center to begin your healing journey.” The Doctor’s lack of humane concern for Lidia’s tense apprehension was concerning for her parents, who stood at her shoulders at the door.
“Wa-wait, you’re taking me to the research facility today? I was never informed of this.”
Lidia’s eyebrows arched in the center of her forehead with building anxiety. The doctor replied with an impatient sigh of disinterest.
“Look, Ms.Bolton-”
“Lidia, please.” She blurted unexpectedly, while the doctor gave her a disgusted glare.
“…Lidia, I understand that your ‘condition’ keeps you from forming coherent, organized thoughts in high stress situations, but if my records are correct, your grades prove that you are an intelligent young lady, so I will repeat myself once more, listen closely. This is part of the process, a test, you cannot be informed of your pick-up time because you cannot be previously prepared for your journey. It must be a surprise, I assure the other test subjects are going through the same shock as you are, well maybe not to that magnitude, but they are certainly concerned. Now I’d like to come in, as it is rather warm outs-” Lidia interrupted a second time and the doctor looked as if he were prepared to combust.
“But the other test subjects don’t have extreme anxiety. ” Her heart pounded faster as her anxiety built, her cheeks her flushed and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her temple. Doctor 27 pushed past Lidia and her parents and walked down the short hall of their small, homely house.
As he walked past, the doctor muttered. “Oh, for God’s sake, why did it have to be me? Why did I have to pick up the anxious one?” When he turned the corner of the hall and found their living room he exclaimed in a flat voice, “Ah, just as hideous and shabby as I expected.”
Lidia scurried down the hall after him in an uncoordinated fashion, hugging herself with her thin, stick-like arms. Her long auburn braid swished behind her as she turned the corner of the hall to see the doctor sitting on the couch, pouring himself a cup of tea.
“Firstly, your healing process while be slightly different than what the other students may experience, because you are so drastically affected by your anxiety, you will be put under a calming serum so that you will stay out of the way while our assistants set you up in your hibernation pod.” Lidia nodded, she felt the doctor did not want anymore questions and arguments, so she stayed quiet and reserved.
“Secondly, once we arrive at the center you will meet the other test subjects and become acquainted with them, we believe that this may make you-I mean all the test subjects, more comfortable with the procedure. Lastly, I want you to be aware that you can only bring a few personal items with you into your pod, I will allow you to collect these items now, and then we will proceed to the center.” The doctor nodded expectantly and Lidia exited her living room, shaken with anticipation. She knew what she would bring with her on her ‘journey’ even before the doctor had excused her. As she retreated to her shelter, beloved room she grabbed her favorite book that always sat on her bedside table and a small printed image of her family, her grandmother, her parents and her.
Once she had descended back down the stairs she found the doctor already waiting for her at the front door, conversing with her nervous and quiet parents.
“Come, come” he said as he stepped off her the door step of their house and walked to the large, dark limousine parked on the street outside. In a brief attempt at a goodbye, her parents ran reluctant hands over their daughter’s boney shoulders as she walked out the door, following Doctor 27 to the dark car awaiting them.
While she sat in the back of the limo and watched her neighborhood pass by her Lidia pondered. She often asked herself why she took part in these experiments, Their poking and probing around her brain for answers and explanations even more uncomfortable for her than the average being. The truth was that she wanted it to go away so badly, her desperate desire to be ordinary and comfortable in loud, busy situations kept her awake at night eating away at the side of her that she loved, a unique curiosity for knowledge. Sometimes, when her nights turned into mornings and then mornings turned into afternoons, still sleepless and uneasy, she liked to imagine that her life was never ending. She pretended she was a wise owl, able to fly over the busy noise of the city and burrow into a large majestic hole in a tall undisturbed tree were she could spend her sleepless nights reading, reading, reading. And when she did this, she realized the side of her that was uncontrolled and insane was encompassing her thoughts, and again she would return to her thoughts of desperation for freedom from her own mental prison.
Subject: Waking the Sleeper: A glimpse into a future story 
Tue Apr 14, 2015 8:35 am
