The Experiment

     There was a gathering of important-looking people all in suits around a long circular table in a white room.
     The most prominent of all of them was an older woman in a pinstriped skirt and white blouse with sunglasses contrasting her blonde hair. "So sector four, why did you need to meet here?"
     A middle aged man in eyeglasses and a blue suit stood. "D'antamo passed yesterday. He was our top executioner for the useless ones."
     "How tragic." The woman frowned, "And you need a replacement?"
     The man nodded. "We want the best killer that you have."
     The woman rummaged through a stack of orderly files. She would pause, shake her head, and resume her plotting. A grin met her lips. "Perfect. Margot, bring me Gallagher."
     Margot was the youngest in the room, only in her early twenties. Before she exited the room, she glared at her mother; her mother insisted that she work with her. Margot entered the long white hallway with the floor dirtied with scuff marks and mud from the outside. She scanned her hand to enter the next hall.
     The next hall was shorter. It reeked of human odors. At the end of this hall was a single holding cell with a barred off front. The cell had too many people crammed into it.
     The people were locked in and treated like criminals, yet they had done nothing wrong. According to Margot's mother, it was a crime to be like them. They were experiments that everyone around the table had in someway assisted in creating. 
     Margot gained the attention of a unshaven man in the front. Margot stared down at the floor. She was unable to look at the people in the cell.
     "What do you want, sweetheart?" The man stroked her cheek with his grimy fingers.
     Margot choked out, "I need Gallagher."
     The man snorted, "Gallagher has been here a day. Take me." 
     Margot didn't glance up. "Just get me Gallagher, please."
     The man clomped back into the cell through clusters of people. He came forward once again clutching a young girl by the collar of the grey tee-shirt that everyone in the cell was wearing. "Happy?" He snapped.
     "There must be a mistake." Margot finally stared up. "She can't even be out of high school. My mother said they needed a killing machine."
     "You wanted Gallagher? This is Gallagher." The man shoved the girl up against the bars of the cell. "Now open up."
     Margot hesitantly unsealed the cage.
     People inside were outraged. They all rushed forward in an attempt to jostle through the crowd and bars to their freedom. 
     The man pushed the girl out; she collapsed on the floor.
     To the protest of the people within, Margot sealed the cage again. She observed as Gallagher struggled to stand. "It's okay," She whispered, extending a hand down to help her. "You don't have to do everything on your own."
     Gallagher gratefully took Margot's hand. She said nothing as Margot led her forward. Gallagher had dark chocolate hair and mint green eyes. The grey uniform, in addition to being covered in filth, was wide and baggy on her petite figure. Her hair looked uncared for with tangles and no luster. Her eyes still had a glint of life inside unlike so many others in the cell. Wincing in pain and clutching at her filthy pant leg every now and again, she limped along slowly.
     "Are you alright?" Margot knew it was a ridiculous question to ask someone with blood stains all over their clothes who cringed as she walked, but her brown eyes said that she was genuinely concerned.
     Gallagher spoke at last. It was barely above a whisper though. "I'm fine." Wrapped tightly around her wrist was an electronic bracelet. Her leg was throbbing and aching. Her agony was etched across her face.
     "We can stop for a moment if you need to," Margot offered.
     "I'm fine." Gallagher repeated.
     At long last, Margot opened the door to the room with the executives surrounding the table. Margot quickly took her seat.
     Gallagher had no idea what lay ahead on the other side. She followed Margot in.
     The three people from sector four consulted with one another already. There were murmurs of "too young,", "too frail," and "too small..." around the table.
     "I know she isn't impressive now, but listen to her file and watch what she can do. Margot read the file." The woman with the sunglasses commanded.
     Margot plucked the file off the table and set it in her lap. "Georgia Elizabeth Gallagher. Born on November thirteenth two thousand fifty. Abandoned for being an experiment at age ten. Began studying experiments with two professors in the countryside. Returned to city and was arrested for experimental properties at fourteen. Year of...preparation completed. Eye color green. Hair color brown. Height before preparation four feet eleven inches. Weight before preparation one hundred and four pounds."
     Georgia listened as her whole life was read off and watched as it was placed back into a neat file. Her life rejoined all the other lives tucked away into files meaninglessly.
     "So she's a fighter? We want a killer." The man in the eyeglasses spat.
     "A killer?" Georgia wondered aloud. Her heart sank. She was going to have to kill. She was fifteen years old. Why would they make her a killer? Before she could ponder any further, electric burning shot up her arm and to the rest of her body.
      "Silence, you worthless mistake," the woman ordered, sending another volt of electricity through the girl's body.
     Georgia tolerated it, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stood firmly in front of everyone.
     The woman in the sunglasses sliced the bracelet off Georgia's wrist. She placed a coffee mug on the table in front of the girl. "Go on."
     Cool metal in the form of a gun was held against Georgia's temple. Georgia tensed, but obliged.
     The woman added, "No nonsense."
     She compressed her hands into fists and held them in the air. She released her fists and the mug exploded into pieces too small to see. Georgia hung her head, ashamed.
     The people at the table applauded, impressed.
     "She's perfect," The man exclaimed. "Thank you, Doctor Matherson." He took hold of the girl's shirt collar and dragged her to a car.
     The man in the glasses, his two assistants, and Georgia piled into the car. They didn't restrain her like she was accustomed to.
     The drive was short and they released her to limp behind them into the brick building.
     One of them led her off into a small short hallway. He unlocked the door to a room.
     The room had white walls, a bed with white sheets and a white quilt, and white carpet. There was a desk and an overhead light. There was an open closet and a door leading off to a full bathroom.
     "That's for you." The man informed her. "Follow me. We'll come back later."
     Georgia hobbled behind the man who led her to a girl in a white blouse with a black skirt.
     "Heal her." The man commanded the girl in the skirt.
     The girl in the skirt had long since given up any hope of returning to her normal life. She was probably nineteen with cropped black hair and bright blue eyes. She rolled up the disgusting pant to examine Georgia's swollen purple leg.
     Georgia studied her for a moment, curiously. She whispered hesitantly, "Morgan?"
     The girl looked up. Realization flashed in her eyes. "George... you're okay. I thought...I thought that you wouldn't live through the preparation-."
     Georgia interrupted, "Don't call it that. We both know it's just a glorified concentration camp."
     "You look so... much older. How'd you get this leg?" She held her hands over the broken leg, healing it.
     "The guards told me that I was working too slow." She winced as Morgan prodded it. "Still broken."
     "You two, quiet!" A woman in a nurse's outfit shouted. "Whenever you freaks get together, you plot!"
    Morgan finished healing Georgia's leg and gave her an encouraging smile.
    "Over here, now!" The woman in the nurse's outfit directed Georgia. She shoved her up against the wall with a measuring line. "Sixty-two inches. Step onto the scale."
     Georgia ambled over with ease on the strength of her mended leg.
     "Eighty-three pounds. Sit down." She motioned to a chair.
     Georgia sat down and listened to the snipping as the woman cropped her hair to mimic Morgan's.
     "Can't have you freaks with any sense of identity." She paused to pull back her own ivory hair into a tight bun. She discontinued when the dark brown hair was cut to the length a boy might have at a military school. "You need an eye test now and a audio test." Her cruel black eyes said she didn't care about whether or not Georgia could see or hear.
     Georgia failed the eye test miserably. She knew that she would before she took it. When she worried over petty things the previous year, she refused to tell anyone about her terrible eyesight. However, she completed the audio test with no difficulties.
     After sorting through a pile of hundreds of different prescriptions, the woman handed her a pair of large, black-rimmed spectacles to clear Georgia's vision.
     The man led Georgia through the sterile hallway and back into the room. "I'll be back in a hour to go over your schedule with you. During that hour, you have access to everything in this room. The closet has been filled with clothing that we found suitable for your position. Please discard your current garments." He defected the room, leaving Georgia there alone.
     Before exploring any of the room on her own, Georgia broke down in tears, feeling for the first time in over a year. She wasn't sure why she was crying. It could have been how surreal this all felt. It might have been because she noticed the scars covering her entire body. It was probably the release from that hell of preparation and the thrust into the new life of a killer. When she was able to control herself, she utilized the shower and then examined her uniform, for what she assumed was the rest of her life.
     It included a white blouse, black pants, an ebony leather belt, plain dark shoes, and her eyeglasses.
     The man reentered the room holding a box of tissues and a slip of paper. "How are you feeling?" He extended the box out to her.
     She placed it on the desk in front of her. "Fine, sir," She replied, shortly.
     "You don't need to call me sir. This isn't the preparation. We want you to be comfortable here."
     "Because this outfit is so comfortable? Because I'd prefer to have my hair cut like this? That's your idea of accommodation?"
     "Gallagher, listen, you're a teenager. You need to grow up and do your job or they'll execute you."
     Georgia ceased speaking and listened to him read off the schedule.
     "You will wake up at five thirty everyday. From six to seven you'll have an exercise instruction. At seven thirty to eight, you'll eat breakfast in here alone. Eight thirty to one thirty you'll be working. One thirty to two, you'll eat your lunch in here alone. Two to six you'll be back to working. Six to six thirty is supper again, in this room alone. Seven to eight is more scheduled exercise instruction. Any unlisted time is free for you to do as you please in this room. You are never required to go to sleep as long as you can perform efficiently at work the proceeding day. Every Saturday there is an hour dedicated to allowing experiments to socialize with one another and Sundays are free of schedule."
     Georgia absorbed such a structured life style. "What day is today?"
     "Monday. Here is a written schedule to remind you of times and events. Any other special occasions will be announced over the loudspeaker. Since you arrived today, your schedule becomes effective tomorrow except for your dinner. It should be arriving shortly. The best of luck tomorrow." He departed once again.
     Georgia nodded. "Thank you." She stared around the empty room, wondering what they expected her to do with so much free time until she stumbled upon another room in her little domain. This room was stocked with shelves full of a variety of books and a deck of cards complete with instructions on how to play solitaire.
     A knock at the door parted her from the discovered room. The door opened itself and a man with a tray walked in. "I'll be back in a half an hour for your leftovers." He slammed the door on his way out.
     Georgia sat at the desk where he'd placed the tray. Even with the bland aroma coming from it, she still stared at almost disbelieving. In a year, she'd eaten nothing except some mystery substance that sustained a person, but in the process made one weaker and hungrier than before. Her hands were wrapped around her stomach area. Her fingers stroking the defined lines of her ribcage. She practically inhaled the meal before her of some sort of bland fish and vegetables with a glass of water. Upon returning to the most interesting room within her complex, she scanned the book shelves.
     There were classics of every genre, language books, encyclopedias, and a dictionary.
     When nothing captured her interest, Georgia returned to the main room with the bed and desk. She examined the closet for comfort wear and returned wearing a white tee-shirt and black sweatpants. She laid across the bed. Her eyes closed, giving into rest instantly.
     The sun was beating down as people moped about, scurrying to complete their assigned tasks. Among them was a girl.
     This girl had to carry pounds of rocks a long walk uphill. By her side as she strained, was a much stronger-looking man.
     He was laughing at her and attaching lead weights to her ankles, so she could barely move. "HURRY UP!" He ordered.
     Her legs and arms were shaking under the weight of the container of boulders. After lugging her feet only a yard or two farther, she collapsed in the heat and in her agony.
     "Get up!" The man roared. He proceeded to beat her with his nightstick. When that didn't harbor a response, he pulled her up himself and set her away from her task. His next course of action was to expose her gentle skin to the sun. To do this, he hung her by her ankles and left her to roast in the sun for the rest of the workday.
     Georgia shot up in bed, coated in sweat from the awful memory. Tears rushed down her cheeks as she struggled to console herself. She calmed herself enough to look at the circular clock on the wall.
     It read five twenty nine. Then the speaker on the wall beeped at her. It sounded for a full five minutes. At which point, Georgia was already dressed in exercise clothing for the beginning of her first day.
     A woman this time, led her to a gym setting with many other people wearing the same outfit and haircut as Georgia. Rigorous weightlifting, movements, and running kick-started their morning according to the instructor.
     Georgia returned to her room to shower, read for a little while, and then eat a light breakfast before her first day on duty.
     An older gentleman with a bright smile greeted her. "You must be Gallagher. Follow me." He led her to a private room with her and him alone and a man in a grey outfit fettered to the wall. "He has been deemed useless by the United States government. You have been assigned to kill him."
     Georgia froze. She stared at this man.
     He peered back with terrified, tear-filled eyes. "Please..." He begged hoarsely. "I have a wife and...my son...He's only six months old. How is he going to live without his father? Please, you can't..."
     Georgia couldn't. She buried her face in her palms. Cool metal pressed against her skull.
     The old man who seemed so kind had his gun to her head. "Do it, Gallagher." He waited expectantly. "DO IT!"
     She sobbed. "I can't."
     "You won't, you mean! The only time that you can't will be when this bullet goes through your empty head!" He unfastened the safety lock. "Now."
     "Why don't you do it?"
     "He's bulletproof. Do it!"
     "I'm- I'm so-sorry," She stammered. Georgia summoned all of her will to raise her fists. "I'm so sorry."
     "You can't, plea-"
     Georgia released her fists; the man burst into minuscule particles invisible to the human eye. Georgia wailed into her hands. She was a murderer. A murderer. Guilt forced its way into her. "I killed him...I killed him!"
     "Good work, Gallagher." The gun was lowered. "You did a nice job."
     "Nice job? I just killed a man! He had a wife! A kid!" She burst into tears again. She clutched her stomach and keeled over, vomiting on the man's shoes.
     The man roughly yanked her to the room with the nurse and Morgan. "Disgusting. She ruined my loafers and took an extra five minutes to do her task. She's disgusting. I'll be back in an hour for her." He threw her on the ground and exited the room.
     Morgan situated Georgia on a bed in the room. "What happened?"
     "They want me to be a killer. They put a man in front of me with a wife and a kid and expected me to kill him instantly. I couldn't. I just couldn't."
     "It's okay, George. Don't worry. It's natural." Morgan embraced her. She stroked down Georgia's hair, comforting her like a mother. "It's okay."
     "Shut your mouth, mistake! I hate dealing with you all day, telling injured freaks that there's always hope and other s**t! She's a spineless little girl!"
     Morgan released Georgia. "I'm sorry Ma'am." She put her head down. "She's like a little sister to me. She was my roommate for some time at the prep-"
     "I don't want to hear your little sob story! Put a compress on her forehead and leave her alone!"
     Morgan followed the instructions shouted at her.
     After an hour, a different man came for Georgia. "He was reassigned for being too harsh on you. You can take all of the time you need today." He smiled at her.
     She followed him back to the room with a crying woman chained this time. Georgia didn't wait for her to speak or beg.
     The woman exploded into nothing around the room.
     Georgia waited for the next person with the burning sensation of tears in her eyes.
     Another woman looked Georgia in the eyes. "How nice, the government is hiring little girls to kill us off now."
     Georgia started to raise her fists.
     "No gun? That means you're one of us. You know how it feels, being confused and alone. It's probably better in Hell. Go on. Kill me, you little b***h."
     Georgia raised her hands again. She stopped. She rested her head in her hand. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't."
     "Alright, you do it, Bucko. You've gotta gun." She nodded toward the man next to Georgia.
     "That's her job."
     "Then tell her to grow a pair and kill me." The woman challenged, "I bet she's too scared, too delicate. I bet she misses mommy and daddy too much. Cry for me! Go on-"
     "Why do you want to die?" Georgia asked.
     "Because I don't want to be a government puppet like you. What a cute little girl. At least I get to die with all my hair, you dumb bit-"
     Georgia blew her up exasperatedly. "I needed to make her stop."
     "I agree. Your lunch break is now." He brought her back to her room. "I'll see you in a half an hour."
     Georgia ate her lunch peacefully. It was more flavorless health food so she expected that to be the usual on the menu. After lunch, the man came back to bring her to her station. She forced herself to execute four more people
     He cut her workday early to bring her to the head of the sector. "Georgia, you did great for your first day. You're going to be the best thing that's ever happened to this sector. You're young too. You could be active for decades."
     "And after?"
     He put a hand to her shoulder. "Well, then you'll be dead." He prodded her into the office alone.
     The man in the eyeglasses told her to take a seat in one of his armchairs. "Hello, Georgia Gallagher."
     She wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak.
     "You clean up nicely. Seeing clearer, I hope? You're in your prime of life. I hope you can work more efficiently and can conduct yourself in a more stable manner than today. First impressions are important to me and I see a weak, bratty, little girl. Prove me wrong."
     Georgia nodded.
     "The power you wield is so incredible. I expect so much of you. Don't disappoint me. Any misbehavior will be punished with death."
     She nodded again. After being brought back to her room, eating, and the second workout session, Georgia repressed the thoughts of murdering long enough to drift to sleep.
     The alarm woke her the next morning. She prepared herself for the rest of her murderous life.

Author's Note

I don't write in third person often so be critical.

Reviews

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

Tell her to grow a pair of what...? :) pretty good, a little detached, though.

[SGWLESSIUT]

Good beginning!
I noticed that the first sentence didn't seem to flow with the rest of the piece. "people all in suits around a ." I think its the all in suits part. Its a good idea.

Overall-good start!

[Tony]

What a delightfully horrid story.
You sir, are a sick man. But hey, I'm wearing moccasins and contemplating ants, who am I to talk?
Oy ay ya! ah ee ah ee eye yay ya! Ha!
You are also a talented writer.
I

[Rian Field]

Just one thing- i think you meant to say "ceased speaking" in one spot where you wrote "seized speaking". But still, fantastic job.

[Ardeth Lane]

I like it. In fact I think you should consider continuing this. I am very intreuged and wanna know what happens next! You wrote third person perfectly. Great job!