//------------------------------// // Test #24-B // Story: The Human Event // by Shocks //------------------------------// It was a rather average cold night for the winter months in Michigan. Across the state, snow had blanketed almost every service of the ground, forcing many off the roads at the time of night. This however, was not a concern for the McArthur family of 1960 Flak Court, evident by the active sounds emitting from the family's home. Inside the house, much of the family was gathered around the large 56-inch TV screen, some enjoying the current dirt biking exhibition that was on. One member of the family however, was not as he gazed out the window at the slowly falling snow outside, the darkness illuminated slightly by the lights of the family’s living room. Derrick McArthur sat with his chin in his palm, silently watching the snow fall. Sitting across from him on the couch was his loving mother, Elizabeth McArthur, who was quietly texting her friend about the recent storm that had popped up. On the very far end of the L shaped couch sat Derrick's older brothers, Jon and David, who were bickering about the race that was on. Jon was stating that number 84 clearly was going to win, despite him taking an early wipeout. Derrick's father, Thomas, sat on a recliner opposite the couch, typing away on the keyboard of his laptop, writing an email to a fellow workplace employee. The 16 year old continued to stare out the window, contemplating something that only plagued him. Something was...off. It was difficult to describe. He had a feeling, though what that particular feeling was, he had no clue. It was as if he was forgetting something... Had he finished all his homework? Definitely, he actually had double checked that. You don’t get to be an A- student by not being on top of things. Forget some chores to do? No, his parents would have reminded him of that, oh they would have certainly reminded him of that. Did his friends want him to join a game of Modern Warfare 3? He pulled out his Iphone and quickly tapped the message app. No messages from his friends. No messages at all. That’s strange. He thought. Had he deleted all his messages and forgotten about it? Possibly. Shrugging, he returned his phone to his jean pocket. Still the feeling remained, and it was beginning to concern Derrick. What was going on with him? He was just about to get off the couch when a sudden feeling overtook him. He felt his throat contract involuntarily. His eyes went wide, a hand instinctively reaching toward his throat. He tried to take in a gulp of air, only to realize nothing entered his lungs. Derrick moved to alert his parents, but only toppled to his knees on the carpeted floor. “Mom! Dad! Help!” He cried out, the last words almost coming out in a croak. Yet, his parents remained where they were, seemingly to care little of the terror that was gripping him. He looked toward his brothers frantically; yet, they too chose to ignore his predicament. Why were they not helping him!? Could they not see he was in pain!? Despite this, they remained where they where, even as he continued to struggle on the floor. Each breath caught in his throat, the muscles futilely working in an attempt to grab at the precious life source. He couldn't even look up, his entire body focused on the sole thought of the next gulp of air that he would not receive. It felt like he was drowning and all around him was the water. As he continued to struggle, the room around him began to fade. His family, still oblivious to his distress, slowly began to fade, almost turning into dust as his torment continued. Their entire bodies, their very existence faded into nothing as if they never alive in the first place. But it would not end there. The walls themselves even started to fade, and whole furniture seemed to disappear as if it never existed. Tears now freely poured from his eyes as his lungs burned with the pain of oxygen starvation. All coherent thoughts had ground to a halt at the impending doom that he was facing, his body still unable to take in a lifesaving breath. Without him realizing, the room seemed to almost spin, the walls falling away into whiteness. "Is this what it feels like to die?" the cold, un-debatable thought shot through his mind. The pain increased, and he could feel his vision blurring. His lungs screamed now, desperate for someone to answer their cries for air. This was it. He would meet his end. Here and now. Just as he collapsed completely onto the floor, a sudden sense of invertigo overtook him. For a moment, Derrick believed it was simply his brain losing all sense of right as its internal functions began to shut down and cease. Then, just as it felt like his time had truly come, a miracle happened. It was as if an arm had reached into the water he was drowning in and pulled with the force of life itself to bring him back from the brink. He gasped and was rewarded with the indescribable feeling of air pouring into his lungs at an astounding rate. He breathed. For a moment, he thought his trouble was over. He was able to breath. He was going to live. Whiteness obscured his hazy vision and he could make out little of his surroundings. Then, he felt it. The pain. The excruciating pain. The almighty lord above the pain. It was as if someone was attempting to rip his entire being from his body, muscle, skin, bone and all. Yet at the same time, another force was crushing him, acting against the other entity to keep him intact. He was in a tugging match between powerful groups and it seemed like they cared not if he broke apart, only interested in winning the battle. His whole body was on fire, the millions of nerves screaming out in protest, his brain overloading from the onslaught of pain signals. The teen screamed, his back arching slightly, yet his arms and legs remained stationary. Something was holding him down, pinning him in place. Instincts and impulses screamed at him to move. To get away. To flee from the pain. Yet it was for naught. His protests were rewarded with only more pain coursing through his wrists and ankles. His screaming became so loud; it seemed to echo all around him. All he could do was scream, to let out the anguish that was slowly ripping him apart. His vision-when he wasn't clutching his eyes shut-was bombarded by the whiteness, and for a moment, he thought he saw colors. Black, purple, pink, and green. They were colorful blobs in a sea of white. But this mattered little to him; all that mattered was ending the pain. Stopping the pain. He struggled again, fighting over the unbelievable feeling ripping him apart and thrashed against his restraints like an animal caught in a bear trap. He screamed once more, and this time had to take in a gulp of air. Had he been scramming so feverishly that he couldn't even breathe?? Then he heard them. The voices. The shouting. His brain could understand they were words, but for the life of him, they refused to translate into something he could understand. Derrick cried out to them. "Help me!' he screamed feverishly.”Help me!!" The voices continued to shout and the pain continued to burn. He cried out again, hoping for some type of salvation against the pain. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voices. The teen only saw the blobs, and connected the voices to them. "Help me!! For the love of god help me!!" he cried out to the blob. Suddenly, everything ceased. Time seemed to slow down as his bodies’ ordeal came to an abrupt end. A strangled sob emitted from him as he collapsed against whatever was restraining him. Slowly, darkness crept into his vision, but he cared not. The pain was gone. The pain had stopped. "T-Thank you" he barely whispered, try to raise his voice so they could hear him. "Th-thank you. Thank you" He repeated, as tears rapidly descended down the sides of his face. The blackness was now obscuring his entire view. His body seemed to collapse completely, going limp for all purposes. Everything felt good again, everything felt right. He let the blackness consume him. Silence descended upon the small white room, a stark contrast from the madness that had only been occurring moments before. The only sounds audible was the heavy and the same time shallow breaths of the two unicorns in lab coats, their faces contorting into looks of sadness and exhaustion. Their eyes however had never left the creature strapped to the large metal table that dominated the room's limited space, his chest heaving and falling in rhythm to its breathing. No longer was it fighting against its restraints. No longer did it cry out in pain. Its face was expressionless at best, and if they looked into its eyes, they would note a haze that should not be present in the bright eyes of a sentient being. But they already knew this. The two unicorns continued their breathing, attempting to absorb what had occurred seconds before. One, a pink mare with a violet mane, attempted to smooth out her short mane with a shaky hoof, only to knock her large rimmed glasses to the floor with an audible clack. The other, a stallion with a lime green coat and onyx colored mane that sported a hint of grey, raised his own hoof to his chest, patting around his heart in an attempt to steady his own rapidly beating organ. It’s not getting any easier. He thought bitterly. Looking to the opposite wall, he gazed into the large glass window that dominated its entirety, save for a small white border. The glass window was a dark black that reflected all the room showed. Them, the operating table, the creature, and the various other equipment that was placed around the room. Finally, the stallion was spurred to move, calmly approaching the large glass window. He noticed in the mirror's reflection that his fellow doctor looked at him, her eyes locking onto his for but a moment before she turned away, approaching the biped that rested on the table. The stallion stopped a hoofs length from the wall, and pressed a small blue button directly adjacent to the large black glass panel. "T-Teees" The stallion’s voice came out scratch and dry, and he stopped for a moment to take a few gulps, only now realizing how dry his throat was. Clearing his throat experimentally a few times, the stallion spoke again, much more clearly this time. “Test number twenty four dash B" he started, "Doctor Stitch and Doctor Feel Good presiding. Testing conclusion is-" The stallion let out a rather deep sigh, looking back at the mare near the operating table who was shakily wiping the tears away that stained the biped's face. "Testing conclusion is failure. Attempt to remove magic unsuccessful. Subject was dormant during initial trial run, but as the testing faze wore on, subject broke out of stasis dreaming, evident of coherent speech and...wailing" Doctor Stitch ran a hoof through his own mane, a few grey hairs being reveled by his hoof. "Subject Human Male will be returned to respective housing. Subject will be monitored for adverse effects. This will conclude today's testing." Pausing once more, the stallion looked into his own reflection in the mirror, his hoof still on the button. He gazed longingly for a moment, before adding one final phrase. "Two hundred and forty seven days since human event"