Between Two Worlds
Am I Dead?

Enveloped by an abyssal void, the weight of an impenetrable darkness presses upon me. It’s a profound obscurity that seems to possess a tangible mass. Is this the sensation of death? An existence devoid of companionship, engulfed solely by shadow and stillness. My life has never been guided by religious faith, yet now, at this juncture, I replace myself yearning for such solace. Could it be that this is the realm one drifts to when devoid of spiritual devotion? A tide of despair crashes over me relentlessly.

Yet, amidst this desolation, a thought pierces through - Wolfe. If my life has indeed ceased, what has become of him? Has he forsaken me to this fate of solitude? Or perhaps the Ghemin have not granted him mercy, subjecting him to torments unknown. Wolfe! Your presence is absent, yet desperately needed. And as for myself - where have I been cast? A plea escapes into the void - a call for salvation from this engulfing darkness.

Abruptly, voices slice through the silence; they beckon from behind. Whirling around, a pinprick of luminance catches my gaze. Driven by curiosity and an innate desire for escape, I advance towards it. With each step, the circle of light swells, its brilliance intensifying until it’s nearly unbearable. I shield my eyes against its glare.

Gradually, my senses reawaken; the cold restraint of bindings around my head, the rhythmic cadence of beeps infiltrating my consciousness. As my eyelids part once more, I’m greeted by the sterile expanse of a ceiling above. My vision is limited, but every sound is amplified in stark clarity.

I need you to cut, here, here, and here,” a male voice instructs firmly.

“What’s the plan for this subject?” another male inquires, curiosity lacing his tone.

The sound of metal instruments clinking against each other fills the air, and suddenly, an intense pain erupts near my abdomen. My eyes fly open in terror, and I try to scream, but no sound escapes. It’s as if I’m trapped within my own body, caught in that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. Yet, this is no half-remembered dream; it’s a nightmare of the most vivid kind.

“I propose we enhance her cognitive abilities. Elevating human intelligence could lead us to solutions for Earth’s restoration,” suggests the first voice with a hint of optimism.

“What about augmenting regenerative capabilities? Rapid healing could help humans withstand Earth’s challenges. Imagine a life free from these cumbersome suits,” the second muses aloud.

A series of beeps accelerates into a continuous tone. The voices grow distant, as though they’re moving away from me. Concurrently, my vision blurs, and the once acute pain begins to dull.

“Her blood pressure’s plummeting. Did you nick something?” the first voice questions, urgency creeping in.

“I didn’t touch anything out of the ordinary. This is unexpected,” comes the bewildered reply.

“We need to stabilize her quickly, or we’re going to lose her.”

A blurry visage looms over me, my eyelids flutter in vain attempts at clarity, yet the figure remains an enigma, obscured as though tears or debris thwart my vision. Voiceless, I plead for aid, the agony is immense. Yet, as moments pass, the torment subsides to bearable levels. Release me, I implore; forgiveness is yours. Alternatively, grant me a swift end.

“We face an issue, sir,” he articulates. “She has regained consciousness.”

“By all that is... Increase the dosage. Her resilience is promising; it bodes well for our endeavors. It suggests she’ll endure the transformations. Survival is paramount.”

Agony seizes me once more! Cease this torment! My life has known no equal pain, not since childhood fractures.

“Greetings, thirty-six,” the Ghemin above murmurs. “Slumber should have claimed you; fear not, we shall rectify this.” A cloth descends upon my eyes - a futile gesture. The sting of cold steel persists.

“An astute observation indeed.”

“Sir?”

“Her rapid mending trait - let’s commence with one trial. Should her constitution persevere, we’ll proceed with the second phase,” the first voice deliberates.

A sharp intrusion at my nape - another injection administers its potent brew.

“Agreed,” concurs the second voice. Darkness beckons once more, and I surrender to its embrace.

◆◆◆

I briefly open my eyes, but my head is pounding, so I close them back. An involuntary moan passes my lips. My whole body hurts, I swear even my hair hurts. Body parts I didn’t even know existed hurt. I let out another involuntary moan and try opening my eyes, again. My head feels like a bomb exploded inside of it, so I just lay there a moment, until it fades to a dull throb.

You’re awake. Good. I was starting to worry I’d be left to fend for myself,” a voice murmurs from my right.

Turning my head, my eyes squint against the brightness, struggling to adjust. A young woman, perhaps slightly older than myself, is perched on an adjacent bed, her attire a simple paper gown. “What’s happened?” I croak out.

“From what I’ve pieced together, we were subjects of some experiment,” she replies, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words.

“Experiments?” The word triggers a cascade of fragmented memories - hushed conversations of the Ghemin, searing agony, consciousness when oblivion should have claimed me, the horror of paralysis amidst excruciating pain. I bolt upright, a decision instantly regretted as pain and vertigo assault me, blurring my vision and inviting darkness at the edges. Clutching my head, I will the spinning to cease. Mercifully, it subsides shortly after, and clarity returns upon opening my eyes. Glancing down, I’m still clad in the peculiar gown provided by the Ghemin earlier. Noticing minor bloodstains near my abdomen does little to quell my unease, yet I resist the urge to investigate further. Ignorance, in this instance, might be a blissful reprieve.

Surveying my surroundings reveals a room more spacious than my previous confines, its walls bathed in an orange hue reminiscent of market-stall fruits. A dozen beds line the space, each separated by just enough room to navigate through. Other women occupy these beds, though none share the wakefulness of my conversant companion. My gaze returns to her; with medium-length blonde hair framing golden-brown eyes, she possesses an undeniable allure. Had fate not ensnared her in its lottery, suitors would undoubtedly have vied for her attention. In contrast stands my own reflection: unremarkable brown hair paired with blue eyes, a visage and form devoid of any noteworthy feature - certainly not one to draw a suitor’s gaze.

Who are you?” I inquire gently.

“Carina,” she responds with a soft smile. “And you?”

“Rayanna. Though my brother prefers Rain,” I share, a hint of warmth in my voice.

“Your age? I’m twenty-four,” she probes curiously.

“Today marks my twenty-first,” I reply, the weight of the day settling in.

“A birthday spent in such a manner is far from ideal.”

“You’re telling me. So, twenty-four, huh? Married? Any kids?” I question, seeking distraction.

“Married for three years now. Two little angels await me at home, angels I fear I’ll never embrace again,” her voice cracks, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I can’t imagine your pain. Boys or girls?” I ask softly.

“Two precious daughters,” she whispers, lost in sorrowful reverie.

“May fortune spare your husband from the lotto’s call. The absence of one parent is a hardship enough for children,” I muse aloud.

“Fortune has graced us there; he’s thirty-eight, beyond the lotto’s reach. My girls will have their father,” she replaces a sliver of solace in this thought.

I ponder sharing my own tale of loss, my father’s fate despite his age. But such truths would serve no purpose but to deepen her despair. Instead, I offer, “My brother is all the family I have left. Today, fate deemed us both chosen.”

“To witness my children’s journey through life was all I desired,” she laments, tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Let’s shift our thoughts to lighter subjects, such as why fate has yet to claim us,” I suggest, offering solace.

“Perhaps they reserve us for cruelties anew? More experiments? Just look; I am bereft of tail; how shall I balance?” she laments through her tears.

No, I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t believe they have any more experiments lined up. It seems they’ve concluded their activities. We might just be the fortunate ones who made it through the Ghemin trials. And I have a feeling we’re not their first test subjects to do so.”

“But how can you be certain the experiments have ceased? And if there are always survivors, why do they vanish? What happens to them? Are they eliminated after yielding useful data? What exactly have we endured? What were they attempting?” she inquires, wiping her tears with her gown’s hem.

“I can’t say for sure. It’s a bit complex, but I sense there’s something bigger at play. That once they’ve gathered their data, our journey doesn’t end here.” I pause, glancing at the door. “Did you try opening it? Is it also electrified?”

“I attempted right before you began to stir. It’s definitely charged,” she confirms.

“I figured as much,” I respond with a resigned sigh.

Suddenly, a deep groan echoes through the space; it emanates from across the chamber. Carina and I exchange a glance before turning towards the source of the noise.

“Shall we investigate?” I propose.

“We might as well. Perhaps with our combined efforts, we can unravel this mystery and replace a way out,” she agrees.

We rise and weave our way through the disarray of beds until we reach one where a raven-haired girl lies—someone I recognize from my neighborhood. We used to spend countless hours playing as children. “Janice,” I whisper, nudging her gently. Recalling the intense ache that plagued me upon awakening, I retract my hand swiftly. “Janice! Come on, wake up,” I urge louder. She groans once more, then slowly opens her eyes—a sight I immediately regret urging her to do. As her eyes flutter open, the stark redness of her blood-engorged veins is unmistakable. Her gaze is hauntingly bloodshot. “What in the world?” I recoil as she groans again.

“Rayanna? Is that really you? I thought I heard your voice, but I don’t see you. I can’t see anything.” she says, turning her head in my direction. “Why does everything hurt? Why do my eyes hurt? Someone, please help me!” Blood starts running out of her eyes and down her face like some sort of freaky otherworldly tears.