Chapter 12: Infusion
One of the man's gloved hands crossed my field of vision, scanning the air above my head as if to make sure I was still alive.
Nearly an hour had passed since the injection, but the burning sensation persisted in my veins, as if molten metal were still flowing beneath my skin.
I followed the hand with my gaze, unable to move more than my eyes. My body was nothing more than a heavy, broken carcass.
After a few seconds, the man withdrew his hand and turned to a small steel table. There, he retrieved a container of water, lifted it with exaggerated slowness, then brought the neck close to my lips.
"You wouldn't want to die of thirst, would you?
His voice was calm, poised, almost gentle, as if he were talking to an animal.
The water touched my lips.
I swallowed the liquid greedily.
It was lukewarm, bland, barely refreshing, but that didn't matter. My throat was a desert, a living wound that tightened with every breath. I would have drunk anything at that point.
But with the first sip, a searing pain exploded in my stomach.
I coughed violently, water gushing out of my mouth, some running down my chin, the rest spilling out under my neck. A groan escaped my lips as my body protested, unable to accept anything after what it had just endured.
The man tilted his head slightly, watching my distress with mild interest.
"Ah... your system is still adapting."
His gloved hand grazed my neck, just below my jaw, to take my pulse. His touch made me shiver with disgust.
"Don't worry," he continued. "Within a few hours, your body will accept fluids again. If you're still alive."
He set the container back down on the steel table with a little snap, then straightened up, absentmindedly smoothing a crease in his blouse.
I was still breathless, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped animal.
My mind was racing.
The infusion.
What had he done to me?
I could still feel the foreign energy twisting inside me, searching my insides, looking for something.
I was cold and hot at the same time. My body felt foreign, my limbs were numb and nothing seemed clear.
And he... this man...
He was waiting.
Watching me as if I were a lab rat. As if my life was just a test result.
I gritted my teeth, I wanted to at least spit in his face, but even that my body wouldn't let me.
So I just stared at him, mustering what little strength I had left to make him understand, through my eyes, all the hatred I could contain.
He flashed a fake saintly grin before speaking with a pedagogical air.
"There, there. You shouldn't react like that, you know, it's a great opportunity you've got, you should be overjoyed." He ran his hand through my hair and I felt my rage and disgust only increase.
"You don't understand, do you?" He spoke with a flat tone and a hint of disappointment.
He remained silent for a moment, examining me as one would a defective object. Then, slowly, he removed his gloves, sliding them down his wrists with an almost ceremonial detachment.
"You feel the burn, don't you?" His tone was neutral again, devoid of the slightest pity.
I closed my eyes for a moment. The burn? No. It wasn't just a burn. It was as if something was gnawing at my insides, as if it wanted to devour me.
I took a shaky breath, and pain pulsed in my chest.
"What you're feeling is the essence trying to make its way into your body," he continued, as if lecturing a recalcitrant student. "Infusion is a... brutal, to be sure. But necessary."
He took a step to the side, moving towards a screen on the wall. With a fluid gesture, he pressed a few keys, and graphics appeared, projecting waves of light in fluctuating colors.
"As you no doubt know, all living beings are born, whatever their origin or race, with a reserve of pure energy called essence and this essence, after its awakening, is capable of giving a person supernatural abilities..." He swivels slightly toward me, a gleam of analysis in his eyes. "The problem is, even though it's not uncommon to awaken its essence, it remains too weak and difficult to improve."
He returned to me with a composed gait. "That's where the infusion comes in. Put simply, it forces this reserve to awaken prematurely, and at the same time, it forces the body to adapt, to evolve."
"Shut up!" said I, writhing in pain. How could he speak so calmly in this situation?
I struggled to keep my eyes open, but every word sank into my mind like a white-hot blade.
"If you survive," he continued, crossing his arms, "you'll have potential far beyond human ability. Isn't that wonderful?"
I let out a bitter, broken laugh.
Wonderful? Grateful?
They'd snatched me from my cell, tied me to that table, injected that... thing... without my consent, and he dared speak to me of gratitude?
My jaw clenched, sending a wave of pain to my temples.
"Go... die."
It was barely a whisper, but I knew he'd heard me.
He didn't react immediately. He just watched my tremors, the uncontrolled twitches of my clenched fingers.
Then, slowly, a smile appeared beneath his mask.
A tiny smile, almost imperceptible, but terribly sincere.
"Good," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "Very good."
He seemed to note something on a small device before raising his head.
"Then keep fighting, subject 37." His tone was lower, almost amused. "That's what makes the experience... interesting."
He turned away and let the silence settle.
All that remained was the erratic beating of my heart and the echo of his poisoned words.