The Warped Mind of Bradley Lake

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 green tinted liquid a group of unenthusiastic scientists gathered haphazardously in a lab. Though none of them seemed to bat an eye at the occurrence. 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 undevoted 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 intellect 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 elevating to 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 fondled 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. 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.
I
nside 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, now writhing like a rat in seizure placing two hands on either side of Bradley’s head and speaking 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.”



Serena lay on hollow tile in the center of a hallway, her appendages spread like a bid taking flight. Stretching her fingers to the farthest avail, she grunted in an unsatisfied demeanor. Unless she was exploring the far corners of the subconscious life was unbearably boring, and offered nothing for her except the observation her sleeping originator. She found it fascinating to be the spawn of such an uninteresting specimen, and therefore got ironic entertainment from it.

“Ugh!” she grimaced before flinging herself around on the floor, rolling one way then another like a child winding themselves up in a blanket. No sooner than had she nearly crashed into a wall when she heard the alarms sound in the keeping chamber. She propped herself to a twisted sitting position. Oh, how she would have liked to observe a conscious Bradley, but of course Father would disallow it.

After finding no enjoyment from her endeavors she headed down the hallway, boots echoing on hollow floors. Perhaps she’d find someone to distract herself from such annoyances.

Jason sat cross-legged in his private room. The room, like the stereotypical room of a genius, there were papers strewn about the floor, books over every surface, and other forms of disarray and mess. The numerous bookshelves along the walls contained textbooks of almost every subject of medical nature. Books on human anatomy, psychology, and various other textbooks were sitting in piles around Jason. Papers with crude diagrams of people were all around him. Even the walls had diagrams, formulae, and random scribblings were all over the walls. Father never did like his writings, but he didn't really care. It was for the greater good. In Jason's mind anyway. Currently, Jason was reading an obscure medical dictionary about pressure points, pain receptors, and other ways of torture. The book was in his left hand, a pen in his right. He drew absentmindedly on a piece of paper. If you looked close enough, the scribbles were tiny pictures of bodies with major nerve clusters highlighted.

It was a very long time before Jason finally heard the warning alarms and the tramping of boots. His innate sense of curiosity took over. Pulling the hood and covering his face, Jason snatched his staff from where it leaned next to the door. Within his robes, papers were stuffed into hidden pockets, next to some knives of various lengths and edges. Jason didn't bother closing the door after he left, opting to leave it open. He melted into the crowd, following the flow. Today might be interesting. Let's see what I can do now., he thought.

Markov removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was extremely tired, but he felt himself close to a break through. He spent that last seventy two hours thinking, running formulas and counter formulas, removing, adding, replacing and redoing functions. The theory of Relativity was drifting in a corner of his brain. he knew it was relevant, he just hadn't figured out how yet. E equals MC squared....if I replace matter and light with that of the property of electricity like that of the electrical currents flowing through the neuron--- His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm. Though he was annoyed by the loss of information that seemed to fall from the front of his brain he knew the alarm. It was the alarm.

The blue-eyed scientist pushed the wheels of his wheel chair taking him to the other side of the room. He pressed a single button on the keyboard and an enormous screen came to life before him. It was his pride and joy, the Society Prediction Mainframe, designed to predict the changes in societyby accessing information through the net from reliable sources and making an educated guess. He lowered the microphone sticking out of it towards his face. "whats the probability that we will save the mind of the renowned genius, Bradley Lake?" the computer recited the question through text on the screen. Then a long line of numbers rolled and changed until the there were only a few characters. In glowing red letters the answer read 5.36%. Markov sighed. Then asked another question, the dreaded question he couldn't resist asking. "What are the chances that we will prevent the apocalypse from occurring?" He waited unblinking until the letters stopped once more and the answer was displayed. To his dismay, bt no surprise it was a bold 0.03%. The scientist removed his glasses once again to rub his eyes then placed them back on. He pulled away from the computer and rolled off into the hallway. "Here goes nothing."

Nevaeh was laying on her stomach with her head resting on her arms. She looked up at one of the many posters covering her walls. Some popular band known more for their looks then their music stared back at her. She felt restless. She wanted to go out and paint the town red. She knew a dozen people to call. Charley with his dark skin and deep eyes or James with his blonde locks and a six pack that could make any girl drool. Then there was Stacy and Lacy. A music major with mocha skin and soft eyes and the sweet science major with red hair and nice long legs. Each had something that made them attractive, not that she was picky. No she liked anyone with a pulse and she had accepted this about herself a long time ago. What was creepy beyond all measure, was her attraction to Blaise. He could very well be the closest thing she had to a father that and Bradly. Though she had never had that kind of impulse toward him. Perhaps because he was her origin? Something like lusting after yourself... How narcissistic would that be?
But no she couldn't call any of the people she wanted to. Why? Because she was on lock down. Yes daddy grounded her. And it just wasn't fair! Just because she didn't make in for curfew a few times. And perhaps the disappearing for a few months might have added to it. She had been having fun. Meeting people, flirting, dancing, and laughing. What was really so wrong with a little fun? Apparently it was a major crime.
She started to drift off from boredom when the alarm sounded. She jumped from the suddenness of its screeching. This caused her to fall to the floor with a loud thunk. Her bottom hitting the cold tile and her teal silk sheets falling from the bed and covering her shocked form. She was glad she was alone as she popped her head out. White hair going wild as she thre the sheet across the room and got to her feet in a rush. She was to the door and out into the hallway in seconds. That alarm was trouble and all of them knew exactly what kind of trouble. Father, or perhaps Daddy One, was awake. She didn't know how she could love a man she had never met and only seen a handful of times. But she did love him with all the feeling of a girl for her father.
She had done a few silly things when she was younger. Taken him drawings she had done for him. Always of her and him in front of a house with a big picket fence. She had dreamed that he would wake up and both her daddies would whisk her away and they would live happily forever after. Yeah, right. But now she was an adult and despite the nasty work ahead she didn't want Bradley to wake. She understood he needed to and if anyone wanted to survive he had to. But why make him suffer his insanity? Why make him see what they had done to him in the name of that survival? He deserved his peace. She was content to let the world rot if it meant he could be free. Since when was she that selfless? Perhaps she was still that little girl crying and begging for love. Wanting nothing more then to have both her fathers proud of her.
With this thought she pushed her way forward and toward the common room. They might tell her something there.