Gasping, tears bursting forth from its eyes as the light burned its eyes. Writhing on the soft, cool ground of the cell as it trembled. How long had it been? WHERE had it been. Why couldn’t it remember? Why did it feel like it didn’t want to. That it didn’t have to remember. After all, it was here now, in this place. The padded walls are familiar, no longer eliciting feelings of fear and confusion. They felt right, this all felt right to it.

It felt the cool tears streaking down its cheeks, chest still heaving as it sat. Pondering, wondering why they didn’t stop. What was it weeping for? For whom? For what? Did it matter? When did it happen? It’s head screaming, careening, searching for an answer before it became silent. A hum emanating from the walls. Its eyes widening, heart lying still as its mind was cleared. All the thoughts disappear in an instant.

“7. Rest.”

It heard the voice, the voice that rang out from the heavens of the brilliantly white light giving it a command. Rest. It knew this command, and without thinking collapsed onto the ground in a heap. Vision blurring till its eyesight faded completely as it lay there. Mind empty, waiting, eagerly desiring more to fill its head.

It heard it. The hiss of the hidden door sliding open once again. Memories flashing in its head, fragmented, broken memories that it was allowed to keep. Given permission to perceive the treatment to come.

A hand grazing against its limp form, drawing a line from the center of its chest to the underside of its chin. Its heart pounded, eyes blindly flickering about despite the lack of vision available to it. It desperately longed to see, to observe, to latch onto the voice. But that was all it was allowed to know. The gentle touch leaving it longing for more, hungrily, desperately reliving the sensation again and again and again.

Its heart still slowly thumping away in its chest even as its mind raced, desperately longing to ask for permission. To beg, to cry out in desperation for release from the tantalizing mystery. And yet it was denied as the hands continued to draw a path across its chest, squeezing, poking, prodding and pushing against its chest as it lay there. Heart coming to a stop.

Its heart slowly crept towards a stop, mind slowing along with it as it felt its mind become hazy. It felt nice, the hands seemingly reaching into its chest. Holding onto its heart and slowly holding it, cupping it with a gentle grasp as it slowly came to a complete stop. Darkness creeping into its mind, its body becoming numb, mind racing in final moments. A final vestige of self preservation that desperately tried to insist on a fight… It would not disobey. It would rest.

. . .

It awoke again. The voice, the touch, had long since gone. Its vision was restored, slowly as it sat back upright. It had obeyed, it hope it had performed. The tears had returned. It did not understand why. Why did they return. Why did it care. Why had they left. It had obeyed. It was a good asset. 7 was a good asset. 7 was a good asset. 7 was a good asset. 7 was a good asset. 7 was a good asset . . .