Chapter Text
The Bridge: Trial #40
Subject: Elara Gray
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This time, surely. It had to work this time.
Elara stared down at the icy lake, her reflection staring back—a porcelain-doll face with skin too smooth to be natural and vibrant violet eyes that didn't need to blink. To the world, she was a medical miracle. To her creators, she was simply Number 7.
She let out a soft sigh and leaned her head back to look up at the night sky. It was early winter, and her hyperactive cells were already fighting the chill, keeping her internal temperature a perfect 37°C despite the biting wind. It was annoying. She wanted to feel the frost; she wanted to feel the end.
“What are you doing?”
Elara didn't jump. She didn't have a startle response anymore—her creators had ‘optimized’ that out of her years ago. Instead, she spun around with a playful, mischievous smirk, her long raven hair whipping in the wind.
Standing in the shadows was a nightmare in a stained white hoodie. Even in the dark, she could see the ghastly color of his skin and the jagged, permanent grin carved into his face. Most people would have died of a heart attack on the spot. Elara just felt a spark of genuine scientific interest. Excitement.
She’d been keeping an eye on this one. Finally, he’d found her.
“What does it look like? I’m conducting a field test,” she chirped, her voice light and teasing. “I’m going to drown myself.” She nudged the heavy boulder at her feet, the one she’d sought out to ensure she’d hit the bottom.
The man in the hoodie tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. He studied her, visibly thrown by the lack of screaming. “Why?”
“What do you mean 'why'?" Elara countered. “People kill themselves all the time.”
The man gave a low chuckle, fiddling with something in his pocket. “Usually,” he rasped, “people only do that because they hate their lives. You look like you've never had a bad day in your life.”
Elara let out a dry, melodic laugh. She thought of the ‘Vitamin Boosters,’ the controlled amputations, and the sterile labs where her creators counted her heartbeats like coins.
“Oh, I love my life,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her grin widened to match his. “I have everything a girl could ever want. Top grades, a perfect face, and two parents who ensured I would never even get a common cold. I’m a ‘masterpiece.’ I’m permanence personified.”
“So then why drown yourself?”
Elara crouched down so she was eye-level with the man. He was even more nightmarish up close, but it just served to make her heart beat faster. A mental flickering of her current vitals scrolled behind her retinas: Adrenaline: Elevated. Cortisol: Negligible. Heart rate: Steady at 94 bpm.
Her smile was sly, her eyes filled with the fragmentation of someone who had died thirty-nine times before. To her, the nightmare in front of her wasn't a threat; he was just a stimulus meant to spike her data points.
“Permanence is boring, Jeff. I want to see if the ‘Golden State’ can handle a lack of oxygen for more than ten minutes.”
“An experiment,” the man muttered, a mixture of confusion and fascination etched into his face. He sounded almost…offended.
“Exactly,” Elara said, straightening up again. “A girl’s gotta have a hobby.”
With a cheeky wave, Elara stepped off the ledge. The plunge was silent. The water hit like a wall of liquid lead, and as she sank, she felt her lungs begin to burn—that familiar, agonizing fire of cellular panic. As the world went black, her last thought wasn't of fear but of the ‘debt’ she’d have to pay when she inevitably woke up.
I hope there’s a 24-hour diner nearby, she thought. Because I am going to be starving.