Six Seconds

Six seconds. They say that you can gain untold power and knowledge, if you can last six seconds in the tank. They say that because nobody has ever lasted five seconds. Nobody lasts six seconds.

The tank is full of raw unfocused power and various chemicals. Some natural. Some not. Anyone sticking a finger into it would experience a split second of euphoria.

It’s only a split second. Point zero-three-five seconds of paradise. Everything after that is an unending agony. The brain tries to fire signals to unresponsive limbs, for one point eight-seven seconds. The eyes go blind, point zero-six seconds before the muscles spasm and collapse. Records would show that nothing happens, between that point and the four point six-nine second point, when the brain dies.

It took the doctors one-hundred-ninety-three trials, to get that much data. Thirty-eight of my closest friends were sacrificed to this tank of glowing blue death. There were only two of us left.

In case you were wondering, this isn’t something you choose to do. It isn’t something you test on a prisoner, or some lab animal. It’s something you are volunteered for. Something you are chosen for.

Kyle was taken, a few minutes ago. His scream was dying, before I heard the sound of the flat-line. I could see his vitals, if I cared to look. All forty sets of vitals were on the wall. Only one had the steady beeping of a still living heart.

I still couldn’t fight the drugs. Even knowing that my friends were dead, I couldn’t muster the strength to stand. The intravenous bag was still rather bloated and full.

Something was bugging me. Not just the fact I was about to get killed like a little white mouse. Not the fact all of my friends were dead, we signed up for that kind of thing. It was all the monitors I was attached to. I had nodes in places I didn’t know existed. And some I wish didn’t.

The sounds of hard-sole shoes hitting concrete and linoleum echoed through the room. They were coming for me. The last of this batch of subjects. Lucky me.

I couldn’t struggle. They simply laid me on a gurney and wheeled me towards a nurse with a sponge. I’ll skip the next few minutes.

It was mostly the nurse washing me. Mostly. She would have been fired if they saw what she could do with her hands. I would blush, if I could. Damn drugs. It was probably her idea of a good send off. Wish she’d never touched me. Not into grandmothers.

The wait is almost over. I can hear the churning of the tank. Feel the static in the air. I’ve already been in this room, twice. Orientation was nice and fancy. They left out the part where everyone dies.

Dr. Sung, the snide old bastard, slapped me a few times, to get my attention. He said something about full immersion. Guess he wanted to see what the monitors will read, then. Or just kill me.

I never liked him. He always smiled too much. Piranha-smile. Cold eyes. Bastard.

Jones, the lab tech, picked me up and put me in the metal drop cage. I wonder if I’ll find his neck at the bottom of the tank. At least his hands were more careful than the nurse’s.

I see the latch, but can’t talk. He didn’t buckle me in. This isn’t right. Even if I survive, they won’t be able to get me out. Jones, you moron. Fucking gorilla. Damn you.

Dr. Sung pressed the lift button. I know I’m boned. I only have enough strength to keep from sliding. Maybe I can hang on, when the flip me over.

Yeah, and maybe I can somersault around the room and sing the nation anthem. I’m fucked.

The cage flipped. It wasn’t the slow turn I needed to keep my grip. It was like a bucking bull. I splashed into the tank, head-first. You can’t swim, if you can’t move. Better to end it as fast as possible, right? I inhaled, as my mouth hit the liquid. I drank their death.

Six seconds...