deoxyribonucleicacid
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- Dec 20, 2009
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What was it doing in a high school student’s backpack? Footsteps resounded from the hallway, and I quickly put all the stuff back into the backpack the way it was. As the door started opening, I hid under the bed. I heard Dr, Sylvester’s voice. “What do you mean, she isn’t here? How did she manage to escape under the influence of sedatives, with her hands tied, and a guard posted outside the door?” The other voice was Maria’s. “Amanda shouldn’t even be alive right now, with the poison she ingested. The plant she ate should have killed a 30 – year old male, never mind a 12 – year old girl.” Both people walked around the room for a while, then left. Now I am facing a choice. I am still in Chicago, otherwise the boy I saw earlier couldn’t be going to Chicago High School. Dr. Sylvester and the nurse believe that my name is Amanda, and that I ran away from my parents. I could stay and try to figure out what this place is. Or I could escape, and terminate myself, to make sure the experiment
I opened my eyes in a hospital bed again, but in addition to finding out my plan failed, medication was injected into my left arm, and that the room also looked like a complex laboratory, I saw that it is not the laboratory at Area 51. I was somewhere else. Then I noticed that there were people in the room as well, but was unable to speak or lift my head to see the room better. A voice fades away, as I closed my eyes again.
I hear a voice again and I wake up to find a woman in a long white coat staring at me with the look that told me she did not expect me to ever wake up. I asked her “Where am I?” and she told me that I will be okay. I asked the question again and told her that I knew this was not a hospital. She said that I should relax and get some more rest, smiled, and walked away. I sat up in the bed and looked up at the familiar black screen that showed my heart rate, showed that I was still breathing, and calmed me down with the soft, regular beeping noise. Almost my entire first life I woke up either to the beeping noise or to the sound of the cars near the Olive Park. I noticed that I was wearing the same stolen clothes from some store called Gap.
A short, bald man wearing a similar white coat entered the room and watched in shock as I ripped out the IV from my left arm. I knew that if I did not hold the spot on my arm where the IV was, blood would squirt out of my arm and leave more evidence that I was here, so I removed the IV carefully, and did not expect such a strong reaction from the man in the white coat. I said I will be okay without the medication, and stood up, despite the slight dizziness. The man called for someone called Marie, probably the woman I saw earlier, and told me that he had to ask me some questions. I knew what they were, but decided to stay, lie to most of them, and hopefully figure out what this place is. The man proceeded to ask me where I was from, where my parents are, what their names are, what my name is, and told me to call him Dr. Sylvester. I told him my name was Amanda, I live near Olive Park, *my dad is James Watson (a name I happened to overhear at Area 51), and my mom left when I was a little girl. Dr. Sylvester began to laugh, then became serious again. “Your father is James Watson? Now, you have to tell me the truth. Where are your parents, Amanda, and how can I contact them?” I refused to give him any more information, thinking I will be kept here, or at least with a roof over my head, until they can return me to my parents. I can escape to Olive Park anyway, if the situation called for this.
The nurse came in and reattached the IV to my left arm, tied my hands so I could not move them, and then left again. I looked around and found one more bed, empty, next to me. Maybe this was a hospital… but not like the pictures I saw on the Worldwide Web. Fifteen minutes later the door opened, as I was ripping the IV out of my arm again, having untied my hands, and someone walked into the room. “Hi. Sorry. I did not know anyone was here.”
The guy, about 17 years old, looked at me more closely, and then backed off towards the door, with a weird expression on his face. I asked “What is wrong?” and the guy said, “You are the person from my nightmares. You killed me.” I replied, “I am not in a good condition to be a nightmare” I held up the IV. “Maybe if they stick twenty more wires into my arm, then I will look scary enough that someone dies. I don’t know.” The boy said “But you ripped out the IV…” He quickly dashed to a desk near the second bed and retrieved a textbook. Trigonometry.
“Why are you here?”
“I tried to commit suicide by poison” I said.
Silence.
“You know, they would not put you here for… What poisoning did you survive?”, asked the boy. I described the plant I found. “I don’t know what it’s called.” The 17 year old apparently knew, and ran to the door with a weird expression on his face. “What are you? Any normal person would die from this amount of poison!” After another short silence, the boy said, “I guess I know, then, why you’re here”.
I asked, “Why are you here then? Where are we?” He looked at the textbook and said that he is not supposed to tell me what this place is, but he helps his father with some of the research here. Then he left.
I looked around again, and noticed a backpack near the desk. I got up and looked through the large blue backpack. There were three other textbooks – AP Biology, Honors Physics for College Prep, and a kindergarten – looking History book. I guessed this was for a CP2 Class. Why does such a bright kid take CP2 History? There was also a crumpled report card. Biology – A, Study Hall – Pass, Physics – A-, Trigonometry B+, English – A, Keyboarding – A, Art Studio 2 – C, History – F. Below the chart with the grades, there was a line which I did not quite understand – “Career GPA – 3.2”, and below that was a signature “NiV Sylvester” with a short handwritten note “My child needs to have extra help wi
Please point out what I need to fix, because I have to hand this in by tomorrow. I was absent for a while so the teacher gave me an extension, and told me to email the story to him tomorrow.
other part - ...History – F. Below the chart with the grades, there was a line which I did not quite understand – “Career GPA – 3.2”, and below that was a signature “Niv Sylvester” with a short handwritten note “My child needs to have extra help with History. He may not be an average student, with his obsession with math and genetics, and I thank you for being patient with him. I don’t see how it could happen, that he cannot get an “A” in a CP2 History class, when he is able to get a perfect grade in AP Bio.
“Not an average student with his obsession with math and genetics”? I thought that this was interesting. I re – crumpled the report card and turned my attention to the red binder, which was in the other section of the backpack. There were a bunch of handouts relevant to the subjects listed on the report card, and none of them looked that interesting. However, the piece of paper with the schedule drew my attention. On the other side of the bright pink sheet of paper was a diagram
was a diagram in the shape of multiple concentric circles, hastily sketched in blue ink. There were many lines drawn outward from the center of the circles, with a letter written in each space between these lines. I tried to read them. “A, U, G, C, C, U, U, A, G, G, C…” the letters continued all the way around the circle, and the larger circles. I tried to make sense of this data, and then realized that this was a table of the genetic code. From what the World Wide Web taught me, this was studied only in college classes. But the report card and the textbooks obviously belonged to a high school – Chicago High School.
After rummaging further through the backpack, I found one red pen, three pencils without erasers, one without lead on it’s tip and half of a green eraser on its other end, five pieces of lead from the tips of these gray pencils, one blue piece of lead from a pencil that wasn’t there, one graphing calculator, two late passes to History, and a broken Geiger counter. What wa
What was it doing in a high school student’s backpack? Footsteps resounded from the hallway, and I quickly put all the stuff back into the backpack the way it was. As the door started opening, I hid under the bed. I heard Dr, Sylvester’s voice. “What do you mean, she isn’t here? How did she manage to escape under the influence of sedatives, with her hands tied, and a guard posted outside the door?” The other voice was Maria’s. “Amanda shouldn’t even be alive right now, with the poison she ingested. The plant she ate should have killed a 30 – year old male, never mind a 12 – year old girl.” Both people walked around the room for a while, then left. Now I am facing a choice. I am still in Chicago, otherwise the boy I saw earlier couldn’t be going to Chicago High School. Dr. Sylvester and the nurse believe that my name is Amanda, and that I ran away from my parents. I could stay and try to figure out what this place is. Or I could escape, and terminate myself, to make sure the experiment
, to make sure the experiment at Area 51 couldn’t go on.
Details: Area 51 actually exists, I looked it up on Google Maps. It's a high- tech -looking -airplane place of some sort.
I opened my eyes in a hospital bed again, but in addition to finding out my plan failed, medication was injected into my left arm, and that the room also looked like a complex laboratory, I saw that it is not the laboratory at Area 51. I was somewhere else. Then I noticed that there were people in the room as well, but was unable to speak or lift my head to see the room better. A voice fades away, as I closed my eyes again.
I hear a voice again and I wake up to find a woman in a long white coat staring at me with the look that told me she did not expect me to ever wake up. I asked her “Where am I?” and she told me that I will be okay. I asked the question again and told her that I knew this was not a hospital. She said that I should relax and get some more rest, smiled, and walked away. I sat up in the bed and looked up at the familiar black screen that showed my heart rate, showed that I was still breathing, and calmed me down with the soft, regular beeping noise. Almost my entire first life I woke up either to the beeping noise or to the sound of the cars near the Olive Park. I noticed that I was wearing the same stolen clothes from some store called Gap.
A short, bald man wearing a similar white coat entered the room and watched in shock as I ripped out the IV from my left arm. I knew that if I did not hold the spot on my arm where the IV was, blood would squirt out of my arm and leave more evidence that I was here, so I removed the IV carefully, and did not expect such a strong reaction from the man in the white coat. I said I will be okay without the medication, and stood up, despite the slight dizziness. The man called for someone called Marie, probably the woman I saw earlier, and told me that he had to ask me some questions. I knew what they were, but decided to stay, lie to most of them, and hopefully figure out what this place is. The man proceeded to ask me where I was from, where my parents are, what their names are, what my name is, and told me to call him Dr. Sylvester. I told him my name was Amanda, I live near Olive Park, *my dad is James Watson (a name I happened to overhear at Area 51), and my mom left when I was a little girl. Dr. Sylvester began to laugh, then became serious again. “Your father is James Watson? Now, you have to tell me the truth. Where are your parents, Amanda, and how can I contact them?” I refused to give him any more information, thinking I will be kept here, or at least with a roof over my head, until they can return me to my parents. I can escape to Olive Park anyway, if the situation called for this.
The nurse came in and reattached the IV to my left arm, tied my hands so I could not move them, and then left again. I looked around and found one more bed, empty, next to me. Maybe this was a hospital… but not like the pictures I saw on the Worldwide Web. Fifteen minutes later the door opened, as I was ripping the IV out of my arm again, having untied my hands, and someone walked into the room. “Hi. Sorry. I did not know anyone was here.”
The guy, about 17 years old, looked at me more closely, and then backed off towards the door, with a weird expression on his face. I asked “What is wrong?” and the guy said, “You are the person from my nightmares. You killed me.” I replied, “I am not in a good condition to be a nightmare” I held up the IV. “Maybe if they stick twenty more wires into my arm, then I will look scary enough that someone dies. I don’t know.” The boy said “But you ripped out the IV…” He quickly dashed to a desk near the second bed and retrieved a textbook. Trigonometry.
“Why are you here?”
“I tried to commit suicide by poison” I said.
Silence.
“You know, they would not put you here for… What poisoning did you survive?”, asked the boy. I described the plant I found. “I don’t know what it’s called.” The 17 year old apparently knew, and ran to the door with a weird expression on his face. “What are you? Any normal person would die from this amount of poison!” After another short silence, the boy said, “I guess I know, then, why you’re here”.
I asked, “Why are you here then? Where are we?” He looked at the textbook and said that he is not supposed to tell me what this place is, but he helps his father with some of the research here. Then he left.
I looked around again, and noticed a backpack near the desk. I got up and looked through the large blue backpack. There were three other textbooks – AP Biology, Honors Physics for College Prep, and a kindergarten – looking History book. I guessed this was for a CP2 Class. Why does such a bright kid take CP2 History? There was also a crumpled report card. Biology – A, Study Hall – Pass, Physics – A-, Trigonometry B+, English – A, Keyboarding – A, Art Studio 2 – C, History – F. Below the chart with the grades, there was a line which I did not quite understand – “Career GPA – 3.2”, and below that was a signature “NiV Sylvester” with a short handwritten note “My child needs to have extra help wi
Please point out what I need to fix, because I have to hand this in by tomorrow. I was absent for a while so the teacher gave me an extension, and told me to email the story to him tomorrow.
other part - ...History – F. Below the chart with the grades, there was a line which I did not quite understand – “Career GPA – 3.2”, and below that was a signature “Niv Sylvester” with a short handwritten note “My child needs to have extra help with History. He may not be an average student, with his obsession with math and genetics, and I thank you for being patient with him. I don’t see how it could happen, that he cannot get an “A” in a CP2 History class, when he is able to get a perfect grade in AP Bio.
“Not an average student with his obsession with math and genetics”? I thought that this was interesting. I re – crumpled the report card and turned my attention to the red binder, which was in the other section of the backpack. There were a bunch of handouts relevant to the subjects listed on the report card, and none of them looked that interesting. However, the piece of paper with the schedule drew my attention. On the other side of the bright pink sheet of paper was a diagram
was a diagram in the shape of multiple concentric circles, hastily sketched in blue ink. There were many lines drawn outward from the center of the circles, with a letter written in each space between these lines. I tried to read them. “A, U, G, C, C, U, U, A, G, G, C…” the letters continued all the way around the circle, and the larger circles. I tried to make sense of this data, and then realized that this was a table of the genetic code. From what the World Wide Web taught me, this was studied only in college classes. But the report card and the textbooks obviously belonged to a high school – Chicago High School.
After rummaging further through the backpack, I found one red pen, three pencils without erasers, one without lead on it’s tip and half of a green eraser on its other end, five pieces of lead from the tips of these gray pencils, one blue piece of lead from a pencil that wasn’t there, one graphing calculator, two late passes to History, and a broken Geiger counter. What wa
What was it doing in a high school student’s backpack? Footsteps resounded from the hallway, and I quickly put all the stuff back into the backpack the way it was. As the door started opening, I hid under the bed. I heard Dr, Sylvester’s voice. “What do you mean, she isn’t here? How did she manage to escape under the influence of sedatives, with her hands tied, and a guard posted outside the door?” The other voice was Maria’s. “Amanda shouldn’t even be alive right now, with the poison she ingested. The plant she ate should have killed a 30 – year old male, never mind a 12 – year old girl.” Both people walked around the room for a while, then left. Now I am facing a choice. I am still in Chicago, otherwise the boy I saw earlier couldn’t be going to Chicago High School. Dr. Sylvester and the nurse believe that my name is Amanda, and that I ran away from my parents. I could stay and try to figure out what this place is. Or I could escape, and terminate myself, to make sure the experiment
, to make sure the experiment at Area 51 couldn’t go on.
Details: Area 51 actually exists, I looked it up on Google Maps. It's a high- tech -looking -airplane place of some sort.