Notes: This has been sitting on my computer gathering dust.

I don’t know where I am

going with this. The first paragraph popped into my head whole one day and then I kept writing

to see what would happen next. I’m not sure what race they are, but” those two” are not human.

This is written from Elia’s point of view.

Character description: Shain (Shay) and Elia (El) are scientists that specialize in human

research. Their projects are funded by a huge conglomerate, but they only deal with a tiny

portion of it, namely Central Command. They constantly have to prove that their experiments

merit the funding they receive. More than once, a project was ended early not due to lack of

results, but that those results were not as monetarily profitable as expected hence Shay’s concern.

Those Two

Fingering the syringe carefully, I looked up from the desk to the sleeping figure across

the room. Just one dose would effectively destroy any memory of us, leaving his brain otherwise

unharmed. It would be so easy to leave him at a hospital with no trace of us to be found. No, he

needs to remember being loved and cared for if only for a short while. He is young enough that

most of the details should fade. According to the research, most recollections from this age are

vague impressions. We must do as we have always done and trust the information is sound.

“So how is he…still asleep?” I heard my research partner enter the suite. “He was asking

for you earlier. Apparently, I was a sad substitute.”

I palmed the syringe and replaced it into its case on my belt before he noticed. Shay came

around the desk and looked at the consoles behind me, pausing to examine the one in kept in

split-screen mode comparing the child’s health measures to the baselines of a human his age. I
kept my eyes on the stack of progress reports from Central Command. When I didn’t respond, he

turned around and began massaging my shoulders.

“El, is everything alright? You’re tense and seem lost in thought.” He looked over my

shoulder to the report that held my attention.

“Have they pulled us from a project before completion again?” I shrug my shoulders

and stand up, walking over to the consoles.

“No, everything is fine. They’re skeptical that the research will amount to any major

breakthroughs, but I’m convinced that there is worth in continuing. For now, our backers agree

with me.”

“Good.” “You should get some rest while you can. You’ll need to be ready when he

wakes again. Let me do some of the research, okay?” He smiles. “Can’t let you have all the

fun.”

I wish I could think about fun instead how we could lose everything with a single wrong move.

Working with living specimens instead of computer simulations is always unpredictable.

Stretching a bit, I walked toward my sleeping quarters.

“Maybe you’re right. I have been staring at the numbers too long. I guess I could use a

break—get refreshed before the real work begins.” Such as how to say farewell to that poor

child. Protocol says not to get emotionally invested in one’s test subjects, but this one might

manage to get to me before this is all over.