The Experiment - Volume III

When the nondescript agency first recruited me, I was skeptical of their vague description of "testing boundaries of human perception and potential." But the pay and benefits were too generous to pass up. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

After extensive physical and psychological screenings, I was moved to an isolated facility. Each morning, I reported to a sterile lab and was given a pill they said would "expand cognitive horizons." Then I was left alone to describe any effects I experienced.

The first few times, nothing seemed different after swallowing the pills. But over weeks, I noticed subtle changes. Colors outside the lab appeared more vivid, details sharpened. I felt energized and focused. The doctors took meticulous notes as I spoke, urging me to report anything unusual.

Gradually, new phenomena emerged. My senses became hyper-attuned - I could hear whispered conversations down the hall and identify ingredients in meals by scent alone. Spatial reasoning improved and I grasped complex math instantly. The doctors were fascinated, increasing the mysterious medication.

But despite heightened abilities, I felt disconnected from my ordinary self. I tried discussing my unease with the staff. They assured me the effects were temporary and monitored my brainwaves for any issues. Their evasive answers heightened my suspicions about what this place really was.

One morning, instead of a pill, they gave me an injection. As the cold liquid entered my bloodstream, reality itself seemed to splinter. I was immersed in aleatory visions - equations unraveling the fabric of time, truths of the cosmos revealed. I understood concepts no human mind should grasp.

As I described the experience, the doctors exchanged unnerved looks. One ordered the project terminated immediately despite the lead researcher's protests. They left arguing while assistants led me away. Back in my room, I sensed dread settling upon the facility. The injection had unlocked something dangerous.

After that day, they ran anxious tests, asking repeatedly what I had seen. When analyzed results showed rapid neurological changes, their unease turned to fear. I heard whispers that I had outlived my usefulness.

Soon after, an armed tactical team stormed my room, pinning me down before I could react. As they secured my limbs, I felt a sharp prick in my neck. "A necessary precaution for everyone's safety," the lead doctor said sorrowfully as the sedative took hold.

I woke alone in a bare concrete chamber restrained on a tilt table. An observation window looked into the room where staff gathered, watching warily as if I were some unpredictable test animal. Their gazes held revulsion and pity.

A distorted voice crackled over hidden speakers explaining regretfully that things had progressed too unpredictably. For the greater good, I could not leave nor be allowed to expire naturally. Their experiment would remain entombed with me.

As the chilling words trailed off, the heavy door slammed shut with resounding finality. Reality fractured again before my eyes, equations and truth and madness swirling. I closed them, retreating into my now limitless mind.

"The Experiment" by Oscar Mendieta Bravo