solesuccess | Aki really made me handwrite this...

It's a normal day. Or, well, it's about as normal as things get for you anymore. You went to school today. It was another day that the kids you used to call your friends made fun of you because of your stupid dad, but it was a day you didn't really have the heart to fight back much. You thought about skipping today, but you know you probably shouldn't. You're pretty used to the side-effects of the medication now. Treatments always make you feel pretty sick for a few days, and it's just something you've grown accustomed to. Nobody really knows how it feels like your guts are rearranging themselves, stomach in knots and muscles achy and sore. Nobody really knows that it kind of makes your head spin and a little harder to focus, or that it kind of makes it hard to shake off cold and flu season, or that you have to go back to the Institute later today for a follow-up. But then again nobody knows because you've never really said.

It wasn't long ago that your school did their annual health check-ups. You always thought of yourself as a pretty average but healthy kid, but not this time. They found an abnormality, they said. Something wrong. And you remember thinking that you should maybe go to the hospital, but that's not what was recommended to you. Instead, you were sent to the Horadori Institute of Genetics.

You'd heard about the place before. It's an institute that studies DNA treatment and genetic therapy, and you weren't entirely sure why you were recommended to come here. The director...kind of creeps you out, really. But you can at least acknowledge the man seems to know what he's talking about. You remember what he said pretty clearly. It scared you. You're a kid. You're not ready to die. You would do anything to save yourself.

So...that's when everything started. It's been several months now, but you've grown used to it even if your visits still make you a little nervous. You come to the Institute. Your doctors run all kinds of tests (scans, bloodwork, injections) and every now and then it's a little more invasive. Sometimes they ask you to perform certain tasks. Sometimes they perform certain tasks themselves, things to test the strength of your bones and your sleep and your energy levels. Some appointments run longer than others, but they always ask you the same thing. "How are you feeling? Has anything changed?"

You're never sure how to answer, because...they're your doctors. Shouldn't they know? But everything feels miserable right after your treatments and it clears up not long after. That has to mean it's working. You've never missed an injection because they won't let you.

Today is a follow-up day. You're agitated for a few reasons, and you don't really want to be here but you know you have to be. They brought you back to the same room as usual, the one with all kinds of monitors and tubes and liquid IVs and paperwork. Your doctor's desk is covered in folders, but here you are on a cot waiting for them to come back. It's taking a long time, and...you sort of just have this weird feeling. It's hard to explain. You know, rationally, that this is just how modern medicine goes. Even if it makes you feel weird and even if you've started to notice some things aren't right. You feel better, so it must be working, even if your stomach still feels queasy and your bones feel like they're grinding together inside your skin, like they aren't sure where to go.

Out in another part of the Institute you can hear other doctors talking amongst themselves. You can hear if you strain your ears enough, and you pick up little threads of conversation. "Subject x's pain response is rather high. Subject y's regeneration technique has failed. Subject z's mind has faltered. Another failure."

It's that kind of talk that worries you. You're not entirely sure of all of the work the Institute does, but lately you've suspected something's off. It's for that reason you decide maybe you should start investigating on your own, actually. Starting with your doctor's desk.

It barely takes any digging when you find something that's worthy of your attention. It's a big file and it's labeled confidential. You know it's insane, and you know you might get caught, but that doesn't stop you. You really do decide the best course of action is to shove the folder into your backpack. It's a good thing you acted when you did. You hear footsteps, and you're quit to settle on the cot again just as your doctor and Director Horadori walk in to proceed with your regular follow-up tests. You hear them discuss your results in quiet tones, and you can't quite understand everything but you think you hear the phrase "success."

So they let you go home. They let you leave early with a reminder to return next week for your next dose of the medicine and the reassurance that you're coming along nicely. You leave the Institute...and you race home.

In the privacy of your own home, you crawl under the kotatsu and unzip your bag, grabbing the folder and eagerly opening it. On the brightside, it appears to be a folder about you since your name is on it. On the down side...the whole thing appears to be written in German.

How annoying...

But that's nothing a translation app can't fix. You hold your phone over the text and you scan it, waiting for the app to display the information. And yet...you soon wish you hadn't.

The experiment is almost complete. All vitals are healthy. Progress of the editing process continues steadily. Subject's response to the medicine provided has shown great improvements over the last several weeks. The progression of development has slowed significantly with little to no change.

Subject is cooperative and is under the impression therapy is for a rare disease. Brain scans have shown that while the mind is continuing to develop and brainwaves are actively changing, the rewrite process of the subject's DNA has been a success.

There are several other notes, pages and pages of reports and observations dating from your first day at the institute until now. You're not a doctor, but you can get the sense of what these files are telling you. It's obvious from the very first page.

There was never anything wrong with you. Your readings were perfectly normal. And with each page you read, you can see it. You can see the way your genetic make-up has slowly been altered, bit by bit without notice. Your bloodwork shows a change in your DNA. Your brain scans show high levels of activity. You see all of the results of the various stress tests and medicines and stimulations and all of the things the institute has had you perform.

It dawns on you that you've been nothing but an experiment this whole time...but why? What the hell has happened to your body now that they've rewritten everything?

...

...

So, you go back to the Institute the next day, actually. To hell with waiting a whole week. You want answers, and you want them now. You walk past the other doctors and researchers in the Institute and go straight to Horadori's office, throwing the file down and asking him to explain himself. You're furious, trying to bite back your anger to be rational, but...there it is. The cold, impassive look of a researcher who sees you as nothing more than a subject.

He doesn't seem to believe he did anything wrong.

But...but he did, didn't he? He used you. He's been using you, tearing apart your body from the inside out all for the sake of research he hasn't explained, shouldn't he answer to that? Shouldn't he tell you what he's done? If he won't...well. You don't have to stay quiet about it. There has to be someone who can help you.

But he's thought of that, too.

...what are you left with then? You're left with more questions than answers, trapped in a body that isn't even yours anymore and no way of telling what will happen to it. It could falter without warning. It could break and shatter whenever Horadori wants it to. This man has your life in his hands...he's chosen to play God, watching you as one of his creations and only keeping you alive because you've been a success. That's what it is, isn't it? You're the sole success of his research, and he's spending a lot of time and energy on monitoring you and testing you and breaking and rebuilding you to become that success. But...

...a success for what?

...well. That's something you won't understand for a few years.