Clicking. Whirring. Then buzzing. And then muffled screaming.

The subtle noises in the background

continuously break the silence in a small room. Lying against the white concrete wall, a lonely young
boy in white robes sat there, eyes hollow, face stony, and body curled up in a protective fetal
position. A metal collar wrung around his neck, detailing his name: X27. He had no name. No
identity. He knew nothing about the world outside the concrete walls, about the time, about the
weather, about his family. All he knows is about the tortured children somewhere outside the room
and the cold that crawl insistently beneath his skin and made his weak joints moan. He had been
sitting there for what felt like aeons, and expects to sit there for another aeon. He had long since
gotten used to the musky air and the cold hard surfaces surrounding him.

Then the metal door slid open.

Two men in black gear and armour stepped into the room, both holding rifles. Their heads covered
by a dark visor. Startled, the boy rubbed his eyes and looked up.

‘It’s time.’

Before he could move, the two men had already grab hold of both of his arms, dragging him along.
The firm grip of the guards almost hurt the boy’s frail arms, and he was forced to stumble out of the
room. The boy looked down, stony face already contorting into further despair. He would never
expect this moment to come, yet it felt all the more real and tangible. All of it almost felt like a
distant dream – sunny skies, lush grassland, dazzling flowers.

And now, despair. The thought flashed across X27’s head – this was the last time he was ever going
to step out of the room. The last time he’d see the guards arrive. Because in a few moments they
were going to strap him to a gurney. And then...the experiment.

As they reached a room the guard turned and nudged him in. He was forced to lie on an operating
bed, the guards attaching metal cuffs to both of his arms. He couldn’t move, looking up at an odd
device that looked like a mask from some demented hell of robotic creatures, a panoply of needles
lining its sides. The device that would inject the Serum. He could feel the numbing effect of the drug
to be injected into him and his consciousness fading, knew he’d be totally out of it soon. Then they’d
lower the mask and the process would begin. His life had only minutes maybe even seconds
remaining. The last ounce of panic that he could manage from his dead mind started rising up and
blooming in his throat, throughout his body and mind. Soon he would be gone. End of his life. The
dying light would go out forever.

Or will it?

An abrupt, deafening scream was heard from the other room, surprising the cold-hardened guards.
And then a screeching emergency alarm sounding, summoning the guards at once. Their confused
face were quickly replaced with uncertainty as they couldn’t decide what to do with the boy yet.

The boy could feel the guard’s confusion and hesitancy from the loosening in their grips. An idea
dawned on him. Groaning, he doubled over as if he is in excruciating pain. He writhed on the bed,
veins popping in his head, panting.
‘Don’t tell me it you are getting that all over again.’ The guards bend over to inspect the boy. But
then one was already lying on the floor, hands over his crotch in pain. The boy had unattached one
of his arm from the metal cuffs and hit his fist as hard as he could right into the abdomen of the
guard.

The other guard’s face started to twist into a mess of shock and anger.
‘What are you doing? STOP!’

The boy had twisted and struggled out of a guard’s grip and was already sprinting away from both
men. ‘BACKUP. I NEED BACKUP,’ he could already hear the guard yelling into his mic behind him.
More sirens blared.

Violently sprinting down the corridor, he could already feel his ribs slamming against the cold
resistance of the air. A warm feeling came from his right ear as a dart whizzed past him, barely
missing his head. Panting, his legs are already whining to him about the pain. But his adrenaline to
escape just kept him going. There was scuttling behind him, and he ran harder than ever. Another
dart flew by. In front, a guard appeared from a corner, ready to capture him. The boy picked a metal
cylinder from a side of the corridor and swung it against the guard.

Just when his legs were about to give way, he had entered a large room, the warm air of the outside
instantly slamming against his face.

He stopped. Then looked around.

There it was. A small, vent hidden behind a huge metal grate. He scurried across to the side, nearly
slipping over the smooth surface of the metal floor. He tried to yank open the cover. His frail arms
barely held up but he managed to uncover it, enter, then cover the hold. As it slammed shut, the
weariness quickly overcame him.

The boy found himself lying on the floor. He must have fainted from all the running. Slowly and
steadily, he pulled himself up, glancing up at the hole. Abruptly, he choked back a breath as he
watched dark figures rushing past him. As if the guard had not found him yet.

Turning around, he scanned the pathway ahead of him and continued down. Dingy metal bars poked
out from many corners, with the ground damp and covered with putrid goo that he doesn’t know of.
He continued climbing for hours and hours, the hum of machinery slowly became distant.
Occasionally there would be other tunnels branching off from the one he was in, but he stayed on
the straight pathway. Immediate threat had been eliminated, but he shouldn’t stop to rest. Not now.

After what felt like hours of awkward crawling, X27 finally felt the airy flow of the outside and
reached an opening. There was a metal bar again and he pushed it hard. He slammed his body hard
against it again and again until it finally gave way. He pushed himself into a standing position and
looked around.

He was outside on a hill. It appeared midday with the sun bright and high up in the sky. Rolling hills
stretched as far as he could see, creating soft undulations in the landscape. The sky was vivid blue,
with bellowing clouds creating different shades of varying light from the sun on the ground. Summer
wind blew through the glade making it dance and caressed the face of the boy. It was one of the
most transcendent sights he had ever witnessed.

Has he finally achieved freedom?

For the first time in years, the boy smiled.

He could finally relax his wrenched-up face, his walled-up mind. Tears of joy flow down his cheeks.
Hearts fluttering, he raised his head and looked up at the bright sun. He spotted a distant village,
nothing more than merely a spot on the horizon and started trudging towards it. Walking, he
reached for his collar and took out the key before opening it, yanking it off. Holding the metal piece,
he glanced back at forth from his number engraving and at the light of the sun. He has no name. No
identity.

What will he call himself? He stared at the bright sun, squeezing his eyes into a line. An idea crossed
his mind.

Ray it is.