* * * Chapter 1 * * *

The dark walls seemed almost suffocating. The metal was cold, so very cold. Just to my left was a door, but what did it matter? The door was incredibly thick, and it was bolted on the outside. There was absolutely no hope of getting out of there.

I climbed onto the metal cot and stared up at the metal ceiling in my metal cell. I shivered and pulled myself into a ball in an attempt to get warm. It didn't help. I should've known by now that nothing would help.

Only, when was now?

The sound of clanging boots echoed through the hall outside and I sat up, confused. It wasn't time. Why were they here?

To my surprise, the boots stopped before they reached my cell. I could hear a door being opened—it sounded like mine, but it wasn't—and a grunt along with scuffling feet.

Then a face appeared at the window in my door. I stiffened mechanically. The man didn't open my door, however. He simply growled, "You've got a new neighbor," and walked away.

A new neighbor?

The boots walked out of the hall and I was left alone. Well, if the man was to be believed—and I knew that he often wasn't—I was not entirely alone.

I turned on my cot and stared at the wall. Slowly I rapped on it with my knuckles. For a few seconds it was silent, then I heard a small clanging sound from the other side of the wall. My heart lifted. My 'neighbor' was answering me.

"Hello?" I shouted.

"Hello?" a voice called back. It sounded like it came from above me.

"There's a grate up there," I said loudly, looking at the spot high up on the wall. "In between our rooms. It doesn't lead anywhere, but it connects the rooms together. We can talk to each other."

"Oh," the deep voice answered. He sounded almost upset.

"Is that bad?"

"No, I guess not. Beats sitting alone in this cell with nothing to do."

"At least until they come and take you," I muttered. Then so my neighbor could hear me, I said, "Do you know who you are?"

"Subject R, ID 04316542," he rattled off. "Who are you?"

I swallowed. The only "me" I knew was the me they had told me about. "Subject S, ID 04316781." It was information I had been forced to memorize, but it never sounded right. I was more than a number, surely.

"Ah, Subject S!" he said as if he knew me. "You're in my group."

"Yes," I said slowly. "It's me and you and Subject Q, whoever that is."

"I've never met Subject Q either. I haven't even technically met you, since we can't see each other."

"I wonder if they'll let us meet someday."

"I don't know. I think that's their plan."

"Subject R . . . you sound kind of familiar."

"So do you, Subject S. Maybe we've heard recordings, or accidentally met one day and forgot."

"Do you . . . do you forget a lot?"

"Yes. They make me forget. To be honest, though, I'm happy. It makes me feel free. Whatever I've done in the past makes no difference now, because I don't remember any of it."

"I don't feel that way," I said. "I want to know who I really am. But I don't think I'll ever remember."

"They've told me some things about myself," he said.

"They've told me things too. But . . . but I don't trust them. I feel like they're lying."

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. I don't care. Subject S, you know that our loyalty must lie with them."

"So I've been told."

"You need to be more than told. You need to do it. You are supposed to follow them, Subject S. They are our leaders."

"You sound just like them."

"That's what they've told me to say. Subject S, you have to listen to me. I can tell that you're rebellious. That's not a good thing. Maybe that's why they put me next to you. You need to listen to them, Subject S."

"But they hurt me!"

"They know what they're doing. In the end, they know what they're doing."

I shivered again, but this time it was not because of the cold metal. It was because of Subject R's dangerous monotone. They had gotten to him in ways they had not yet done with me. I could tell that they had warped his mind, turning him into a brainwashed minion. I knew that I was next.

"Do they hurt you?" I asked quietly.

He hesitated for a moment. "Yes," he said. "But it's because they want to help me."

"Help and hurt are opposites!" I might not remember my real name, but I knew that basic and undisputed fact of life.

"No, they're not," he said coolly. "Sometimes hurt is required to help. They're making me better, Subject S. They are helping me reach my full potential. In return, I serve them."

"But that's not right. Surely that's not right. Humans—"

"We're not really humans, Subject S. I thought you knew that. We are . . .we are subjects. Science projects. Don't go labeling yourself as something you are not."

"They say we're science projects."

"They are right. Subject S, I've had a long day. Arguing with you won't help with my exhaustion. Please, let me sleep."

"Okay, Subject R. Goodnight."

I got no reply.

Maybe he was right. Maybe we were little more than science projects, probed and studied and examined for the purpose of advancing the human race. In that case, my life was virtually worthless.

As I tried to fall asleep, I did what I did every night: tried to remember who I was.

For some reason, I remembered nothing past a few months ago, and most of those few months was a blur. I blamed the scientists. Whatever they had done, I had no memories of a different time. Had I always lived here, in this jail cell?

But that couldn't be right. Sometimes I had short, brief flashes to another time. It was always somewhere far away, sometimes with a bright light that must be sunshine. These glances were so quick and passed so fast that I never had time to take hold and search my brain for more.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, something flashed into my mind's eye. Bright blue bars surrounded me, and there was no way to get out. There was a man next to me, and I was just about to look at his face when my brain seized up and refused to let me see more.

Out of habit, I groaned. Why must my brain be so cruel to give me these quick glances, but never reveal the whole picture? I wanted to know where those bars were! What was their purpose? Who was that man? I would probably never know now.

Another thing that was making my head spin was Subject R. He really sounded familiar to me. He had sounded like he was about my age, most likely. I tried to place his voice, but nothing worked. I knew that I should know his voice, but I just did not.

Jamais vu.

What?

The phenomenon of knowing that you should recognize something, but still not recognizing it. It's like the opposite of déjà vu.

Where in the world did that come from? And I don't really think that's it. It's more like the word on the tip of your tongue.

Jamais vu.

No! It's not . . . I do recognize him, I just don't know how.

Jamais vu is prevalent in some cases of amnesia. Isn't that what you have?

Yes . . . no . . . I-I don't know! Quit it! Where did you even learn 'jamais vu' anyway? I don't remember!

"Ugh, shut up!" I shouted at my internal thoughts.

"Subject S?" the voice from next door called. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I replied. "Just fine."

"Then please let me sleep."

"Yes, um, goodnight."

I rolled over and pressed my cheek against the metal cot and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, just like everyday. After a little while I was able to fall asleep, but not without one or two more flashes of experiences that I vaguely recognized but still didn't know anything about. I hated my brain.