After Image

It had been two weeks since Viola had refused to produce weapons or any other item she deemed hazardous to the welfare of human beings and there had been no further talk about it. She could not figure out why they were taking such caution not to provoke her to anger and wondered if Will had intervened in the matter. She was unsure that he had that much power over her situation, and had not been able to question him, as she had not seen him since he had let her back to her room that day.

Today she was back in Quinn’s room, as she had come to call it, working with Dr. Ludlow and Dr. Holman. Dr. Pfister was absent and Viola did not want to bring attention to his absence as a day less that she had to see him was the best thing that could happen in her current situation.

Dr. Holman had taken over choosing today’s projects. Viola gave a loud yawn after producing a computer chip of some sophistication, and interrupted Dr. Holman before she shoved another schematic in her face.

“Don’t you think that we could be of more benefit to the world than all these prototypes of computer equipment and such?” Viola said.

Dr. Holman looked at her. “Like what?”

“Like, solving world hunger,” Viola said and she felt the tingle as energy left her producing a glass container full of little green and brown pills on the table near Dr. Ludlow. Viola looked at that product and just said, “Not what I was expecting actually.”

“What is this?” Dr. Ludlow asked, holding up the container to examine it from below as if this view would hold the answer to his question.

“I am going to say a solution to world hunger,” Viola replied.

“That is not on the syllabus, Viola,” Dr. Holman replied.

“What about a cure for cancer?” Viola asked and a stoppered test tube appeared on the table holding an amber liquid. Dr. Holman looked at the tube and frowned at Viola.

“Just because Dr. Pfister isn’t here doesn’t mean you can play games,” Dr. Holman responded.

Dr. Ludlow picked up the vile and looked at it in the same way as the container of pills.

“I don’t think world hunger or cancer are a game,” Viola replied coldly.

“Well we can leave that up to different organizations,” Dr. Holman said, trying to end the conversation.

Viola pushed on. “Leave it up to the pharmacology corporations to cure disease?” She started laughing producing tears in her eyes. “You really think that they want to cure diseases? If they started doing that where would they get their money from once they were all gone? You are sadly mistaken if you think pharmacology businesses are out to save the world.”

“And you would be sadly mistaken if you thought the CIA was out to save the world,” Dr. Ludlow spat out.

Viola glared at her. “No I suppose the United States government only cares about what can benefit them. Better not tell CSIS or MI:6, they might get all up in arms about your use of me to put your country in a better position.” Viola clenched her right hand into a fist and looked away from Dr. Ludlow. “I think we are done for today,” she said icily. She heard no smart remarks in response to this statement and instead felt her hand be released. Grabbing the glove from the table she slipped it on and let the guards escort her back to her room.

She sat down in front of her desk and opened the nearest notebook, scrawling haphazardly in it, trying to calm herself down. Ever since that incident when the rage had surfaced, she was finding herself more and more irritable with her situation. She had done a lot more meditation since then, but being with those scientists in Quinn’s room, it felt like there was a wasp’s nest in her head that they were constantly poking until an explosion of wasps spat forth from her lips. She was starting to think that she wasn’t going to be able to live like this for much longer. What would happen then?

She glanced down at her hands and realized that in her rage she had actually picked up the pen in her left hand and made a somewhat legible scrawl on the paper beneath it. She put the pen down, glanced around the room and headed into the bathroom. She had started taking advantage of there being no camera in the bathroom. She had learned that if she did spend a suspiciously long amount of time in there though, a guard popping in to say hello usually occurred. So, steadily over the time she had spent here she had made it a routine that she went to the bathroom every hour or so and spent a few minutes in there, trying to imply she had a small bladder. She also did the same thing when she was in Quinn’s room to keep up the charade. In fact, she had started this habit in the pretext of giving herself a few minutes every hour to test her ability to Image with her left hand. She had yet to be successful in her attempts.

In the bathroom she immediately Imaged lock picks. She touched them with her left hand and felt a draw of power. Excited, she watched the little satchel pop into existence in the air and begin to fall into the sink which it was hovering over. When it hit the sink it disappeared. Well Imaging anything for a fraction is better than my hand passing right through, Viola thought. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands in the pretext of having relieved herself and went back into her room. She picked up the nearest book and wandered over to her bed. She read for the rest of the day, falling asleep with the book still in her hand. It fell onto the floor startling her awake, at the same moment she felt a slight prick on her shoulder and moved her hand to brush aside whatever bothersome thing was near. She felt nothing there and immediately fell back asleep, too tired to even get under her covers.

When Viola woke up the next morning, she felt groggy and less energetic than she had before she had gone to sleep. She moved her body with great difficulty. I feel like I’ve been drugged. Her brain too addled to face that as a reality, she instead went to the bathroom and tried to wake herself up with cold water on her face.

Pulling off her glasses - which she had apparently been too tired to pull off the night before - she turned the tap to cold and splashed it onto her face. This had the desired effect and she opened her eyes wide from the shock. As she put her glasses back on, she realized that Quinn was trying to get her attention.

“Sorry Quinn, I feel a little muddled this morning, didn’t mean to ignore your inquiries,” Viola said in her mind as she brushed her hair. It was a tangled mess from falling asleep reading last night.

“Vye, I know you informed me not to interfere in the others’ affairs even if it went against my code,” Quinn replied hesitantly. Viola stopped brushing her hair and stared at herself in the mirror, gazing past her reflection and focusing more on what was going on inside her mind.

“Did something happen that upset you?” Viola asked.

“It did not so much upset me. It was more that I knew if you were aware of what happened it would upset you. I did not stop the process, but you never said not to tell you, especially if you were unaware of the situation.”

Viola thought about the prick she had felt on her shoulder when she had dropped her book the night before and went cold. “Did they do something to me last night?” Viola finally asked.

“Yes,” Quinn replied simply.

“Please, do not keep me in suspense, Quinn,” Viola replied.

“They had you in a tranquilized state, still lucid. They know that you Image when you dream and so they used the opportunity to make suggestions on what you were dreaming. Their experiment was a success.”

“What did they make me Image,” Viola asked. She didn’t want to hear the answer. She already knew the answer.

“That which you refused to do consciously. You were Imaging weapons,” Quinn replied.

Viola pulled herself away from her mind and looked into her face. She looked into her eyes and saw a rage building inside them. It flamed out as soon as it started and she instead backed against the wall and slid down until she was sitting, her arms curled around her legs. Tears were streaming down her face, tears of utter despair. Violation after violation. She didn’t want to be a tool anymore. She refused to let them use her for this purpose. She sobbed a bit more and suddenly stopped. Looking up at the mirror, Viola made a decision. She heard Quinn in the back of her mind asking her what she was planning to do, and like flicking a switch, she shut Quinn out.

She got up slowly, suddenly calm now that she had made her decision. She went to the mirror and lifted her right hand, pounding hard on the mirror until it shattered and pieces began to rain down onto the floor and sink below.

Will walked into the surveillance room carrying his morning coffee. Since he wanted to stay close to Viola and not be shunted off on other duties when he was not required to liaise with her, he had decided to takes shifts in the surveillance room instead. Fred turned when he opened the door and Will handed him a cup of hot coffee as he left. They exchanged polite greetings and Will was left in the surveillance room alone with nothing but his own thoughts and most of the day to spend watching Viola. He had taken to reading the same books that she was at the moment, that is, when she hadn’t Imaged a sequel to some book that had yet to be published in their reality. When that happened, he always just found the first book in the series and read that instead. He found her taste in books to be all over the place. One day she would be reading a psychology book and the next day it was a teenage paranormal romance. He could tell the books that she enjoyed and the ones she did not by the positions they ended up in her room. Carefully shelved books in the proper alphabetical order of author were the ones she had assessed as worthy of another read. The ones she thought were a waste of time she would put in the corner beside the bookshelf. He supposed this had been her habit at home, eventually taking the ones she disliked to Tytonidae’s Codex to rebind and sell. He found it interesting too that regardless of the fact that she clearly hated some of the books she read, she never put them down half finished. She would painstakingly read to the very end. He thought this a strange habit to have acquired for a leisure activity. Why make yourself read something you hated when it was not a requirement but a recreational activity. He had wanted to ask her the idea behind this, but did not want to give away the fact that he had basically become her stalker, watching her every day.

He looked at the camera and watched as Viola wandered unsteadily into the bathroom. He saw a book lying on the ground next to her bed and realized she had started something new. He zoomed the camera onto the book cover trying to make out what the title was and who it was by as it was half open on the floor. He stopped trying to get a good look at the cover and instead thought, Viola would never treat a book like that. Did she fall asleep reading?

Curious, he pulled up the footage from the previous night and watched in double speed what had progressed after Viola had finished eating dinner. It was very unlike her to fall asleep reading. She always put her book aside before she truly fell asleep. She was alerted to her sleepy state when the book fell on the floor. He came to a part of the video where Viola started to nod off and he noticed the door open a few minutes later. As Viola dropped her book, startling her awake, Dr. Pfister had plunged a syringe into her arm. She immediately slumped back onto the bed. A stretcher appeared in the screen and they bundled Viola away on it. Will had just picked up the phone to find out what had happened last night with Viola when his mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the scrawling text that was on the screen. The sender read Quinn. I don’t know any Quinn’s. How did they get this number? He ignored the name as he noticed that in the body of the text it started with Viola’s name.

Viola is in trouble. Get to her immediately.

Ignoring everything else, Will slid his mobile back into his pocket and ran to Viola’s room.

Viola grabbed a large chuck of the shattered glass with her left hand and immediately began tearing at the leather of the glove. After a few seconds of tenderly trying to cut away the fabric and getting no results she instead stabbed at it violently, frustrated by the fact that it refused to give way. What is this made of? She gave a little scream of frustration and realized that the force of her attempt to rid herself of the glove on her hand had caused her left hand to bleed. Red rivulets of blood were dripping down her wrist and falling onto the sink below. Her breath caught in her throat. She wouldn’t let them use her like this. She was fine going along with their orders as long as she knew that no one would be hurt by what she produced, but she couldn’t let them use her when she knew that people were going to be hurt and murdered because of what they were making her do. I can stop this. I can stop this here and now. What would be the best place? The carotid artery in my neck? The brachial artery near my armpit? What about the femoral artery on the inside of my thigh? I would bleed out in seconds.

Taking a deep breath, she decided. She brought the piece of glass closer to her inner thigh. She didn’t want to cut her neck, she would have to look in the mirror for that and she might miss the first time trying the artery in her arm. She would have to cut deeply on the thigh, but at least she could slash down with more force, and gravity would keep the glass cutting her open even if it hurt. It was going to hurt. Don’t worry, the pain won’t last that long. Finally having gained the courage, she put the piece of glass in her gloved right hand and gripped it firmly. Slicing down with a mighty force she felt the skin on her thigh give way like butter and the lancing pain caused her to cry out. She dropped the glass onto the floor. She immediately hit the ground and grabbed the wound on her leg. She vomited from the sheer pain she felt and with shaky hands she willed herself to pull her hands away and let it flow. She was crying and felt faint. She could feel her life force pooling onto the floor below her and she tried to smile at the thought that at least by killing herself she wouldn’t have to have any more blood on her hands. Her eyes slowly closed as her breathing became shallow. She didn’t understand the shadow that passed over her vision, thinking maybe an angel was coming to comfort her in her last hours; coming to thank her for her sacrifice. She didn’t feel anything anymore, just cold. Her eyes closed and she went to her eternal sleep.