Snippet #2093832

In a human sized capsule on an abandoned Nevada research facility; the emerald optics of Bradley Lake flickered open for the third time in a month to observe through a veil of green liquid a gathering of unenthusiastic scientists in what appeared to be a lab. Though none of them seemed to bat an eye at the occurrence. They merely returned the gaze with inattentiveness, as though they were wondering what he would do next. Of the scientists was a Blaise Fermi, director of research, sipping casually on a mug of heated coffee to chase away a sleepless night.
Bradley had at first not realized his position but after examining the inserts into his skin, as he had done every other time, he panicked (as he had done every other time). Rough and callused hands slid along the glass, slamming against it until he caught the lackluster attention of the chemists who gave no more consideration to him than they would a passing breeze.

“He’s awake again,” said one.

“Just let him wear himself out,” responded another.

The words were distorted through the dense glass, but were no more shocking to the super genius than they would be if they were clear. How had he, a renowned scientist, become a lab rat. Everything was twisted in a hopeless haze. Furious at their neglect, he clawed at the tubes from his skin ripping them from their points of attachment. His heart elevated to a dangerous rate as he struggled for air. This action, unlike the first had provoked an enthusiasm from the various researchers as a blood-curdling alarm rang throughout the walls of building, “God, they’ve done it again!” hissed one as he scrambled to empty the chamber.

The glass slid down, and a nude Bradley with it. He clawed at the tiles on the floor, numb legs providing no support. As scientists rushed to help, they were just as easily forced away by adrenaline powered shoves and punches. Unknown to the prodigy, inside his head three psychological metaphors were waging war against one another. And consequently, in his reality, he was stricken with madness, “God!” he roared, slamming his clenched fists into the ground to rival the incessant bickering. Not many people were capable of hearing either the Id, Ego, or Super-Ego. But not many people used more than fifty percent of their brain.

Inside Bradley collected bits of the conversation, “Oh, are you breaking already?” echoed a female voice, “I can’t wait to see him crack, it will be incredible.”

“Incompetent human, there is no use for such ineffective creatures. You are garbage.”

“Stop it!” Bradley demanded, gripping the hair at his temples.

Blaise, who had remained otherwise silent and contemplative made a powerful demand, “Gather the fragments of his sanity. I don’t think he can take it anymore,” he then made an advance to the helpless creature, who was now writhing like a rat in seizure. Blaise placed two hands on either side of Bradley’s head and spoke inaudible instructions to him just before stabbing a syringe into his jugular. Moments later the experiment lay almost lifeless in the scientists arms, “That’s a good boy.”