Dr. J, Released

His name was Jensen, or Jenkins, or something like that, back when he had a name. Now he was just a number printed in black on his jumper.

0224569-1A.
Patient.
Prisoner.

Some days he wasn't even that. Most days in fact he was a room number, a check on a log, and just another door in another hall. Those to whom he had once mattered had moved on; they were somewhere else in another world. A world he was beginning to think had just been another drug induced fantasy.

He sensed before he saw. He heard before he was sure. It was a sound he had not heard in nearly ten years. The steady confident click clack of a woman's high heels on the tile floor. It wasn't on his hall but it was a definite change. Someone was here. Someone who had not been here before.

There are other noises now. A wave of change is moving through the building, it is careening down his hall. It is coming towards him. It waits impatiently on the other side of the door. There is the metal click of keys in the locks and the pulling back of the barricades. What greets the eyes of the man that no one remembers, is the vision of an angle.

The men in their white lab coats and the orderlies in their pale blue uniforms frame her aura. Her business suit is black and constrained. The jacket with it's long sleeves is tailored to follow every curve. It's perfectly tailored. Just like the black woolen pencil skirt that goes just past her knees. Her dark hair is pulled back and up. The fluorescent light behind the crowd flickers giving her 5'11" stature a dramatic spark not unlike a halo. Her age is indeterminable.

As the humble patient of room 1242 of the east wing stares up at her from the floor he sees only his salvation. She smiles cooly and approaches. She gestures for the orderlies to lift him up. As the patient is carried out of the hospital her heels clack with clarity. Her eyes shine with authority. The red stripes of her lapel pin sparkle at the very notion of her presence here.

In a long black car she rides back to the offices. Her cellphone rings and she pulls it out to answer.

"Yes."

"It is done."

"In due time."

"Of course."

She clicks it closed and puts it back in her small black hand bag. From a brown leather satchel satchel she draws out several folders. His name is Jarrins. His work was halted by a loss of funding at the end of the coast wars. His experiments were gathered up including himself. The extent of his work is not known as the cypher to his work has yet to be discovered. She scans through the photos of the hidden labs and the remains of his subjects. She smiles to herself with a few secrets filling her with mirth. In the satchel is also some the man's notebooks as of yet not deciphered. She flicks one open and scans the page reviling in knowledge her predecessors could not discover.

The precious cargo, a mad man, is carefully sedated before being placed in the white sleeper cell that would ensure his safe transport to the docks and then to administrators.

Jeffery, The Jar

Some say life began with the primordial ooze, for Jeffery it began with a sticky vitamin rich pink fluid and bubbles. He had been very small then. Too small to understand the significance of the fluid and only that he enjoyed the bubbles; they tickled. By his twelfth week of gestation he was moved into a long glass cylinder and the pink fluid became much more gelatinous and gray. Now his environment was changing as he was exposed to a display of lights in varied but warm soothing colors and patterns all around him. These colors were soon accompanied by sounds.

His deliverance into this world wasn't nearly as tranquil. For the first time he was solely responsible for breathing on his own, maintaining his own body temperature, and well everything. He was awake, he was cold, and everything was too bright.

A metal bracelet was slapped on his wrist and then he was wrapped in warm blankets and whisked away. He liked being held. It was like being back in his jar, warm and safe. His nurse had a kind face and she rocked him gently as she did all the babies in the nursery. In the weeks that followed he grew by leaps and bounds. His nurse was a mechanical wonder built only to provide comfort to the 'little ones' as she called them. They were her only concern as her clockwork ticked soothingly. Her mechanical voice sweet, sincere, perfect in Jeffery's world. She was all the love he needed and all he ever knew.

He was back in the laboratory supervising the rows upon rows of his siblings through their gestation when the ground had started to shake, when the great roar came and broke his world. Under the ruin that now composed his entire world he waited. He didn't know what else to do. He was pinned. He watched as the dark figures took away his brothers and sisters. He watched as they deactivated the nurse and seized the remaining jars. He waited for a long time. He waited after the time of quiet. After the green things had begun to grow in his crumble down world. He waited. The Doctor would he home soon. He would set things right. He would be home soon. He needed only to be patient and wait.