Experiment One woke with a start.

He rolled to his feet before his mind had a chance to catch up with his actions, taking up a defensive position. He looked around in a panic, trying to determine where he was.

His eyes fluttered as he tried to focus on the surroundings. It took but a fraction of a second for his subconscious mind to take stock of the room, adrenaline and training sharpening his senses.

Bright. Empty. Silent.

The crick in his neck and the tension in his back informed him that he'd probably been lying in this room for quite some time before waking. Strangely enough he couldn’t feel any other injuries, old or new.

No imminent danger.

Yet the silence spoke otherwise, a quiet voice, nagging in his head, refusing to be suppressed.

It was a silence so deep it set his teeth on edge. He was prey, unable to hear the predator - yet woefully aware of the threat.

There was no sign of life; neither distant voices nor near suppressed breathing. No sounds of rustling winds or humming from devices.

The last was particularly unnerving.

His eyes tracked from side to side, searching for the perceived danger.

The hair on his arms rose with a creeping dread.

No windows. No door. No light sources.

Yet the tall, black stone pedestal in the centre of the chamber and the set of syringes lying on a whitewashed shelf to his left remained clearly visible.

Are the walls, floor, and ceiling giving off the ambient light?

Unable to determine, he shelved the thought.

At first glance, the room appeared empty from the corner in which he stood, ready for violence.

At least I'm not tied up for once.

He scoffed at himself.

The ability to move was great, but not his main concern right now.

No obvious way out of the room. Or into the room, come to think of it.

After a few seconds, he lowered his arms from the battle stance he’d taken but remained vigilant.

Waking up in unfamiliar places was nothing new. He’d earned his name, Ex-1, so he took a deep breath and revelled in the lack of pain. It was rare for experiments to start like this, but not entirely unheard of.

Having assessed the immediate and obvious threats, or lack thereof, he took his time to look around more slowly. Watchful eyes observed the details of what appeared to be the newest prison he found himself in.

Maybe the floor is a lift-like platform? Activate a switch and raise the platform until the door disappears. Can’t think of many other ways to trap me here without an entrance. Teleportation? Not likely! I wonder what the pedestal is about.

Careful steps took him around the perimeter of the room, taking in the space from all angles.

Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He continued to let his eyes roam, all while using breathing techniques to regulate his heartbeat. The adrenaline would make it hard to act rationally if he couldn't control it.

There were no cameras or other sensors that he could see with the naked eye, but that did not diminish his concerns.

Technology had advanced enough that he wouldn't be able to identify any sensors anyway, should his captors desire to observe him undisturbed. Even if given a magnifying glass and unlimited time.

Something that might have been a screen or a large touchpad, built into the side of the pedestal at head height, caught his attention. There wasn't much else to note.

All of this feels off.

Usually, when they wanted to test new products he'd wake up restrained. He’d long given up the fight. Procedures were procedures though.

Unless it was a social experiment. Those were rare. He couldn't really be considered a regular human at this stage, so that tended to skew the results.

As did the fact that his upbringing was anything but normal.

Then again, I’ve been taken by the opposition... They might do things differently here. I wonder whether they know who I am? Maybe that’s why they’ve placed me here.

It was beyond frustrating. Finally, after years of holding his place as Experiment One, he’d been released to the warriors’ faction of the secret military.

Despite the abusive treatment, injuries and pain he had endured; learning to fight, putting his physical advantages to use had felt good, as though there was more to life than what he’d known.

There simply was no comparison to the indefinite torment of the experimental treatments from his childhood.

Bred in a tube and raised as a lab rat, he'd been seen as something less than human right from the start. No one expected him to actually grow up to be a man.

He cut himself off. He was well aware that reminiscing wouldn’t change his position. Procrastination served no purpose.

‘Be decisive! Assess. Then act,’ the officer’s words echoed in his head, giving him direction.

Only three items of interest. Pedestal, screen and syringes.

The syringes were more than likely the objective of the test.

He’d check the screen first though, in case there were instructions. And the pedestal, out of curiosity.

Nothing good came from refusal, so he would cooperate. Eventually.

No time like the present.

Too disciplined to sigh or show other outwardly signs of distress, he turned back to the screen. Ignoring the inevitable tribulations of his future also helped strengthen the thin veneer of confidence he wore as a cloak.

Now standing at an angle to keep most of the room in view, he waved his hand in the hopes of activating what he assumed to be technology of some kind. When that gave no results he carefully tapped it.

Assess. Don’t dwell, just do. Assess. Don’t dwell, just do. One of his most used mantras running through his head on repeat.

Slowly the screen swirled to life, the hieroglyphs that finally formed were not from any language he recognised.

Shaking his head in frustration and struggling to suppress the slowly rising panic, he turned his attention to the smooth surface of the pedestal.

It was made from stone; the deepest black, interspersed with a few veins of shimmering blue. It gave off an energy he couldn’t find words for, though it did evoke familiar emotions.

Danger. Excitement. Peace.

The more he studied the surface of the pedestal, the stronger the emotions grew. They merged from one feeling into the next, leaving him deeply unsettled.

Tearing his eyes away, he took a weary step back. The foreign emotions immediately retreated.

Outside of the strange nature of the stone, there was nothing else to help him put off the inevitable.

That left one option. As he'd known from the start.

Ten syringes. Identical as far as he could tell. Laid out in a small case. Blue liquid. Nothing else noteworthy.

Maybe it’s sustenance. It’s got the right colour… though it should be a drink, not an injection.

Who am I kidding? They’re torturing me for information. It’s more likely to be a truth serum. Never mind that I don’t actually have any information to share. My masters didn’t trust me, that much I know.

Reality was, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and he was procrastinating despite his earlier reasoning. The test could involve anything; nano-bots, something to change his genes or further modify his body. It might even be a new type of poison that needed analysing.

Couldn’t be a new healing reagent, otherwise they would’ve injured him somehow. Or just not healed him from their latest sessions. Which begged the question of just how long he’d been unconscious.

It could literally be anything that they were experimenting with; experimentation was, after all, the sole purpose behind his breeding.

It was a bit strange that his captors would choose to use him in the same way as his creators, but who was he to judge? He was good at his job, the most durable and most experienced. The greatest success.

Maybe they are just testing how I would react to the situation, and there’s nothing noteworthy in the syringes at all. It is all about my actions, never mind that they have no reason to use me for a social experiment. Unless, that is, they want to learn more about our forces’ mentalities.

Choosing to believe that it would be one of the more beneficial experiments, one that would leave him stronger in the end, he stretched trembling fingers out towards the case. They might not have anyone in the room to coerce him into action, but there would be consequences should he fail to comply.

Shaking now, sweat staining his back, he prepared the first dose. Don’t think, just do. Without further hesitation, experienced hands inserted the needle and injected the unknown.

Sure enough, he could feel heat spreading from the point of injection. Quickly it built. It traveled through his body and reached agonising heights, making his vision swim. With a grunt his legs gave out and he fell to the ground face first, unable to control his body.

Slowly the pain dissipated, leaving him shaken but relieved at the relatively quick turnabout.

In fact, the pain had not just disappeared, but he felt better than he had before. The minor aches and stiffness from lying on the floor were gone.

Not going to argue with that.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and attempted to calm his still trembling body. Not sure what to expect next, and whether he was meant to take the other injections, he looked up.

Before he could take further action, a robotic voice sounded in his head,

With a start he looked around. Not that he was expecting anyone to have appeared. The sound had somehow been from inside him. Like a thought, yet not originating within him.

That’s different. The opposition must be more technologically advanced than us, if the serum can place a talking AI in my head. Or maybe I am finally starting to crack, it's been a long time coming.

It wasn't so much that he thought it impossible to have an AI in his head. Quite the opposite, in fact. He knew for certain that this could be accomplished by an implant in the brain. The military had been testing them last he knew, he just hadn't been selected for that particular experiment. Those were only trialled on subjects without potential at this stage.

Which is just as well, as half the tests' participants ended up brain-dead. For those that were successful, though, the results spoke for themselves. Definitely worth the risk.

Hopefully there will be some further instructions soon. No matter how many years, some things never get easier - the unknown being one of them.

Having been asked to wait—they even said please—yet unable to stay in his vulnerable position on the floor, he swiftly rolled back to his feet and glanced at the screen again. Only to receive a shock upon realising he was now able to read the words.

He knew it still showed the same message with the same strange letters in what should have been a foreign language. But somehow, this time, he understood what it all meant.

Wearily he shifted his weight, feeling beads of sweat forming on his brow again. Access denied. Waiting for authorisation. What is that supposed to mean? No serum should be able to implant a language like this.

There goes that AI again, still in my head.

His thoughts about the words he’d somehow heard, yet were not his own, were suddenly interrupted.

His heartbeat spiked with a renewed onset of barely suppressed panic as his sight was obscured by holographs overlaying his vision.

Blue boxes, with messages and tables vied for dominance.

Which probably still speaks for the nano-bot and AI theory. Even now, he was incapable of halting the internal analysis of his situation.