Spectral Magnets IC

[Professor Objection]

Date: ??/??/??
Time: 11:57 PM
Location: ???

A child, no older than 18, was finishing off an important message. The monotonous clicking of the keys and the occasional sigh were the only things that penetrated the silence in the room. The door was locked with a chair under it, and a boy was sitting on the bed. Or rather, he was floating just above it. "You're sure this will work?" The child stopped typing, pressed "Send", and turned to look at him. "It has to."

Date: ??/??/??
Time: 11:59 PM
Location: ??? Facility

A scientist studied the halls through surveillance cameras, ensuring that nobody had decided to sneak into the kitchen...or anywhere else, for that matter. It wasn't exactly the most interesting job in the world, but he treated it like it was his most important responsibility. His partner, sitting next to him, did not seem nearly as diligent. She was leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of black coffee from a thermos. "Why do you look so hard? It's not like those kids are actually going to run off." The man pretended to ignore her, but he couldn't resist whispering to himself, "I'm not going to be the one to blame if they do. The boss would..." He stopped as the other scientist got closer, trying to hear him.

Time: 12:02 AM

The message arrived, but was not visible. It would not appear until the next day.

Next Day: Friday
Time: 9:02 PM

The message became visible to the recipients. It would be invisible to anyone else.

Next Day: Saturday
Time: 7:00 AM

The wake-up call commenced. The day had begun.

 

[The Music Man]

Waking up, Desmond could not help but scream slightly. He had a dream of the email that was sent, and it was not pretty, each word had come at him, and time and time again his 'spector' would come after him. His mind was playing a trick on him by showing his biggest fear, that of it coming after him. He stood, and got dressed, preparing for the events of the day. He sat back on his bed, and waited for the doors to allow him to go to breakfast. While waiting, he focused on a black mark he made on the wall, and waited, watching his periphrial, wanting to see the thing that scared him the most. Even though he didn't know whether or not it helped, he sent out thoughts asking the thing to allow a conversation between them, he wanted to get to know it. After some time, the spector did show itself and when it did, he allowed it to sit for a minute before turning his head slowly to try and look at it.

 

[UnAngelVerde]

WHere was he?
Cold, white, sterilized, fear.
Pressure, sea bottom.
HE wasn't there. Where he was? 11th loked around. a room, a bedroom. House? No. An hospital, right? maybe not, where? A chair in front of a desk, a computer. A blue cape hanging from the chair... oH! He was in the facility, at home. And it was saturday, or so it said in the digital agenda he had.

11th went out to do his day's chores, but he stopped and looked around every little time, sometimes to control his imagination, sometimes to get a hold on what he was doing. But, regardless, today wa saturday, one of his favourites days because he could see his parent.
Maybe after seeing his parent, he was going to be out, so he needed to give him goodbye, and ask him for some help for his life. Curiosity had gained since he received the email and now, he wanted to know how it all ended up. He never felt good, and he has always felt hs entity, so... it was time to learn the truth.

 

[Professor Objection]

Be-beep! The watch beeped to its owner as he walked through the hall, reminding him that it was 7:00 AM and time to get moving. There was no need for this, as he had already been prepared no less than 25 minutes before his alarm, but it was important for him to be punctual. If he decided to turn it off and he overslept the next day, he would never hear the end of it. Straightening his nametag, he saw that someone had stained it with something red. Annoyed, he wiped it off with a napkin in his pocket until his name came back into view: Pr. (short for Parent) Fromm. He smiled; that was much better.

Pr. Fromm walked past the children's rooms, noticing nothing amiss as he looked at the doors. Half of the doors were old-fashioned wooden doors that were locked with keys while the other half were steel walls that worked like automatic doors, sliding into a recess in the wall. The renovation of the building had not happened quickly enough to replace all of the doors, unfortunately. As Fromm usually did, he unlocked the four wooden doors and knocked on each of them, signaling that the doors were now open. Then he looked at the fourth steel "door" at the end of the hall. No one was in that room yet; the eighth occupant was still somehow missing. He felt a grimace form on his face whenever he thought about it: it was his fault that she hadn't been found yet.

To distract himself, Fromm knocked on the door of his "Child", Desmond. He could still remember the day he had chosen that name. The boy, once named Colton, had been lying still in his new room. Fromm had thought for a while about the new name; it couldn't be too similar to the boy's previous name, but it had to share something with the previous name so it would feel familiar. Eventually, he thought of the stillborn that would have been his brother if it had lived. His mother had said that he wanted to name the baby Des. But Des did not match the formality of Colton, so Fromm had settled upon Desmond.

To this day, he almost felt ashamed of how much time he had spent contemplating it, but it was better than the negligence his coworker had shown. She hadn't even seen her Child before naming him Subject 11. What kind of name was that for a person? This, among other things, was one of the reasons that Fromm hated working with her. In fact, she didn't even seem to have most of the necessary knowledge to make her daily observations, as she was always asking him for help on the most obvious matters. How did she still have her job? He let his thoughts wander as he waited for Desmond to open the door.