KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I open the door to find my colleague standing on the other side. His name is Yu Shuxin—a field operator, like me. Our eyes meet first, and then he smiles belatedly.

"Mornin’"

“I came to drop off your new project.”

Yu hands me a file. The tamper-proof seal has been crudely torn open, and now barely clings to the edge of the envelope. Regardless, I make no attempt to open the file in front of him knowing that he might see it as an invitation to offer unsolicited advice.

“It’s a nasty one.”

At least let me try to close the door first.

“Hey, is that intern still alive?”

Mind your own business.

“Don’t hesitate to call for help, okay?”

This may have been genuine concern had it been anyone else, but Yu always had that slimy smile on his face that seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Thank you, Yu.”

His smile falters for a moment, then returns, though with a touch less snark. His fingers wave and he excuses himself.

My assignment is located in the lower levels of the facility, accessible only through multiple layers of clearance. Somewhere on this floor, another operator is likely tending to a similar task—perhaps Yu, or someone else entirely. It's probably best that their identity remains unknown to avoid any biases in case of an emergency.

I find myself staring at a steel door, the assignment designation neatly printed on the placard beside it.

The cell is similar to others I’ve been in, and like the others, equipped with an air-lock system for emergencies. Machines and monitors display the ambient conditions of both the room and the angel's chamber, which lies behind a steel door well over ten inches thick.

Through the glass viewing port, I peer into the angel's cell. The room is dim, so I switch on my flashlight to get a clearer look at what’s inside…

I initiate the protocol and hear the whirring of machines around me as they work to administer the following chemicals in succession: 12,000 cc of L-DOPA, 40 mg of amphetamines. This is followed by a steady flow of 70% gaseous nitrogen and 30% oxygen. The idea is to reactivate neural activity followed by immediate sedation.

An alarm blares throughout the room, alerting me that the angel’s chamber is opening. Secondary monitoring systems activate, and the hum of security cameras is a constant reminder that my every move will be watched.

These dosages would be lethal for a human. I keep this in mind for the next part of my assignment…

I find myself standing in a hospital ward. The air is cool and stagnant, the ground solid beneath my feet. A patient lies on the bed, and without glancing at any charts or names, I already know who it is.

Footsteps echo down the hall, stirring the patient awake, and the rustling draws the attention of the passerby. A boy steps into the ward, his shock of white hair instantly familiar. I step aside as he breezes by me, and rests his elbows on the bed.

It doesn’t seem like he can see me.

“I’m Yu! Y-U, that’s my name.”

“...”

“There isn’t much to do around here.”

“...”

“Look, I got this scar. Is that what happened to you? ”

He shows me a scar below his collar before pointing to his right eye.

That’s right. I was injured some time before my rescue.

I try to mimic his actions but my limbs feel heavy. I can’t move them.

“...?”

"You don’t talk much huh?"

I can't tell if this is a vision or a hallucination, but I know that, while these events were once real, what I'm seeing now isn’t.

"Why is that important?"

This is where my memory of the events deviate. Have I come into contact with the angel? It must be using Yu's voice to communicate.

The Yu in front of me, the Yu from my memory, waits patiently for my answer. I can't remember what I said, if I said anything.

I need to inquire about the intern's condition.

"Why is that important?"

"Why is it important now that what you’re seeing isn’t real?"

I have no desire to try and extract any meaning from this.

I was a child at the time. My thoughts were instinctual at best.

It’s really not worth thinking about.

I wake up on the floor of chamber A-10134, slightly disoriented. I cough, and against my better judgment, pull off my mask briefly to wipe my nose, leaving faint flakes of dried blood on my sleeve.

In the dim glow, I spot a panel on the monitor signaling me to initiate dialysis to support the intern’s kidney function. It’s a rough start, but I finally reach the station and initiate secondary protocols, hoping to salvage what I can of the intern’s condition.

…

I’ve been out for the last five hours since beginning the initial protocol in chamber A-10134. My memory of the events are blurry, and the intern's status remains uncertain.

At my suggestion, the experiment will be repeated with reduced sedation.