“I’m home!” He shouted, a smile on his face, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, his thick hands were in gloves, his large body was in a nice expensive suit, and his glasses were clean enough to see his living room was empty. “Honey? I’ve got surprise for you!” This would be the one time he wouldn’t forget their anniversary.
He heard something from the kitchen and laughed to himself. “Oh honey, you don’t have to make dinner, we’re going out tonight! I’ve gotten reservations to-” As he walked into the kitchen his smile faded as realized he was never going to be able to tell his wife that he had made reservations at her favorite cafe.
Her body was hanging limp on the counter of the kitchen, staying up only by the assistance of a steak knife stabbed through her hand and into a cutting board. He refused to look at her body any further and left to call the police.
“I didn’t do it!” he had said 20 years ago. 20 years ago they had refused to believe him, saying he was the only one with the knowledge of the human body to kill her in such a way. 20 years ago they had sent him to this prison to be executed. Perhaps it was luck that the bill against executions had been passed the day before his was set. Perhaps it was divine intervention that had spared him. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but it had been done and he was set for life in here.
George Frederickson was his name, but now he was known only by three aliases; Doc, Inmate #121711, and Fred. The last 2 are easy to understand by themselves and Doc was from a past life. A life with his true love, Jessica.
A few weeks ago he had heard rumors about the President meeting a Princess of a new country. That she had brought him jewelry and fresh apples as a present.
He’d never laughed so hard in his life, after all, all the orchards had died out long ago.
Turning and tossing, turning and tossing. Every night was the same for Pedro. His cellmate would continue to mutter about ‘Jessica’ and toss and turn in his sleep. He was growing fed up that his slender body wouldn’t fit in the bunk, he was growing fed up with not getting his medication for his insomnia, he was getting fed up with Doc after 20 years of the muttering.
One day Pedro’s answer came in an odd form. A research lab was looking for guinea pigs to test, and they had let two of the scientists write down the names of the people applying. Pedro waited. He waited and waited until the forms were unwatched. He scrambled over and wrote a name down as fast as possible.
Three guesses as to who’s name he wrote down.
“Hey Doc!” a deep, angry voice shouted. Fred’s eyes opened to see Pedro smiling, revealing his filthy, crooked teeth. Doc instinctively backed up into the wall, hoping that his cellmate hadn’t finally snapped and was going to assault him. As he felt for a shank he had made for just this occasion the next words from Pedro’s mouth stopped him dead in his tracks,
“You’re free to go.” Pedro said with a devious smile on his face. Doc only rolled his eyes at that. He’s pulling my leg, they’ve rejected every offer of my Parole. The board wouldn’t let me out if the world depended on it. “I know what you’re thinking,” Pedro continued.
“’But Pedro, you genius, how did you ever convince them to let me go?’ Well, you know those nerds that have been wondering the halls?” Doc nodded, they had been everywhere with clipboards and pencils, looking at inmates, studying their every move. “I signed you up for experimentation!” Doc opened his mouth to try and say something to him, or rather yell at his idiotic ideas before a thought entered his head.
Wait, I’ve run field testing before, when my portable x-ray was patented. They do these things in laboratories with little security. I just need to outsmart the security, run for the fire escape, jack a car, drive to the border, and I’ll be home free! If I get caught I’ll be no worse off than before. He shut his mouth and held out a hand to shake Pedro’s.
“I knew you’d like it.” The two shook hands and Doc started to pack.
After hiding his homemade knife in a tear in his clothes he started the process of waiting.
“Are you sure about this Professor?” one of the guards following him said. “I mean, you’ve got no muscles or anything to protect ya if he attacks you on the ride there.” The Professor held his head in his hands.
“I told you fifteen times before. We will sedate him, put a shock collar on him, drive him there, inject him with the new medicine, put him in a padded cell and watch. He will not escape.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any policemen to accompany you until you arrive there? I mean these people are-”
“Crazy freaks who will do anything for freedom, you’ve told me 5 times. I will be careful and keep my eyes on him at all times.” The scientist stopped and looked at the cell. “Is this it?” The guard silently nodded.
“Inmate 121711?” He asked. A man in the stereotypical orange jumpsuit approached, smiling smugly. The scientist smiled back. “Are you ready for the experiment?” The man only nodded. “You are aware that if this experiment is successful your life will be changed forever?” The man nodded once more. The Guard opened the door and kept his hand on his gun as the man stepped out.
“Before we start, I must confirm a few things.” The man’s smile faded as the questions went on. He never answered vocally, just nodded. As he continued the questioning he signaled the guard to give him the sedative. The man gave a small yelp as he was prodded with the needle but only glared at the guard. The scientist excused himself from the room. After a few minutes the inmate was out cold.
That could have gone better… he thought, waking up in a padded cell. He checked himself and was glad to know his knife was still in his jumpsuit. As he got up and attempted to crack his neck he realized something was on it. Slowly he felt it, checking every inch of it so he could get an image in his head.
A shock-collar? Clearly the process of testing has changed since I was in the field. He looked for a door and found one. Or at least, a loose definition of it. It was something used to get in and out of rooms but it didn’t seem to have a way to let someone out from the inside. A padded cell, great. Of all the things I forget about the testing of inmates it was the cell. In hindsight it seemed obvious what had happened, but that was the past and now was now.
“Good morning Mr. Fredrickson.” A voice said, from a hidden intercom most likely. “I am Doctor Von Hooft, and your contributions to this experiment shall become a point of great-” As the Doctor went on and on about the next step of humanity, Fred attempted to take off the collar and was met with the expected result. “Oh, I see you’ve noticed your collar. That’s just so you do not try anything during your stay here. We just need you to do a few tests.” As he finished speaking a trap door opened across the room, a ladder brightly illuminated like the rows in a theatre.
This will take a while… He climbed down the ladder and found himself in another room. A small pedestal being the only thing (outside of the entrance) to really grab his attention.
“In a few seconds a needle filled with the experimental item inside of it will appear on the pedestal. This is our first test of such an item so would you kindly take some so we can get on with it?"
Rolling his eyes he approached the pedestal, after a few moments a syringe appeared and he grasped it. It looked like someone had sucked out a glow stick with it and forgot to empty it as it had a glowing blue quality that both entranced and disturbed him.
“Take the needle and jam it into one of your veins. The police file they gave me says you used to be a doctor so I’m sure you know where to jam it for the most effective result.”
Looking at the needle he thought about it. On one hand I won’t be able to escape unless I follow along… but on the other hand he said it was untested and could kill me where I stood. After a short while he jammed it into his arm. It hurt like a bee sting, but their was no turning back, he injected the liquid into his veins, a cold feeling flowing up his arm and into his chest.
“Good job! See, Miss Celestia? I told you we could depend on him.” A female voice came over the intercom, it was calming and serene. Almost as if he was listening to a woman who actually cared about him rather than science.
“Well done, but we have much to do. Go to the next room.” As she finished saying that a door to another room opened.
He walked inside to find another white padded cell, this one however, had a mattress and a normal door. “That is all for now. We will be back in half an hour."
“And don’t try anything!” The man added. Sighing, he sat down on the mattress. Well, I may as well take a nap… but as he lied down he had an odd sensation in his foot.
Oh goody, knowing my luck I’m probably allergic to one of the ingredients. He took off his shoe and his sock before he stopped and stared in horror.
His foot was turning blue. Not a hypothermic blue no, but an indigo. Oh god, oh god, I’m having a reaction. What do I do? He tried to think back to the days when was a doctor, but the only thing he could remember doing in those situations was amputating. He took out his shank and brought it to his foot. As he made his first cut, horrid pain making itself as noticeable as possible, he realized something.
In all those cases they couldn’t feel or even move them… He stopped cutting and put away the knife. He moved his foot, he walked on it, he even used it to kick the door. All the times he’d felt it. As he breathed a sigh of relief, he felt an odd tingling in his ribs. More side affects, nothing more, nothing less. As he sat back down he noticed a few things over by the door he had kicked. I’m seeing things, I’ll look down to my feet and they will be perfectly-
He looked down and screamed, his toes were gone. Quickly he pulled off his other shoe and sock, and had found his foot had shared the same fate the other one. He kept shouting as he realized that the indigo color was spreading from his feet up. He tried to stand up but he heard a crack and felt a sharp pain. He fell back down and heard yet another crack, and another, and another. He had started to roll up his pant legs and saw that his legs were… changing, he didn’t know a word to describe the pain and shifting he felt as they slowly began to shrink in one region and expand in others.
Horrified, he once more reached for his knife, but this time it was far too late, his hands were starting to turn the indigo color and his spine was lengthening. His neck was growing in the collar until it had cracked into several pieces, all of them falling off. As he felt something happen to his skull he blacked out.
“Wake up Mr. Fredrickson.” the calming voice called to him. No answer. “Wake up, it’s time for another day,” the same calming called.
“J-Jessica?”
“No, no, this is Princess Celestia.” The man sighed once more and opened his eyes, the same white walls greeted him. Damn, still not the afterlife. I really wished I was dreaming.
“We still have testing to do, but you may want to remain seated for a few moments.”
No problem. He rolled his eyes, I don’t want to get up anyway.
“You may be shocked by what you will be seeing,” the soothing voice continued.
“But relax, we’re just as surprised as you are!” The male voice said. A short pause followed this statement. “Surprised at how well it went we mean! Please enter the next room for your surprise.” Like the last time they finished a door opened. Slowly Doc got up, his legs felt like gelatin and immediately he fell into a four-legged stance.
He did not feel like investigating why his head felt like a dagger had been stuck through his forehead, nor why his clothes felt tighter than before. Rather he just grabbed his shank (which was stuck into the floor) and crawled through the door. It slammed behind him without warning, but he had come to expect that. Inside the room there was a large mirror and another door. He decided to peer through the door’s tiny window. He slowly crawled to it and forced himself up to eye level. Through it he had found a hallway of a normal looking facility, he was almost home-free.
“We’re going to need you to stand in front of the mirror for the next step of this experiment to begin,” Hooft’s voice began. “Then you will be escorted to your room.” He sighed and headed to the mirror.
After this I’ll have my chance. A new chance at life, a chance at happiness, a chance at-
His train of thought was immediately derailed as he stared into the mirror. He continued to stare but the visage continued to perplex him. He saw a small creature, a four legged creature of a deep indigo, a one horned creature that had large, deep purple eyes, a creature that looked straight out of a children’s cartoon. It was wearing an orange jumpsuit with #121711 stamped onto it.
He lifted his hand up to the mirror, much to his horror rather than a hand an indigo appendage did it. He started to breathe heavily and examined it closer. His hand was now a foot, or more specifically a hoof. That butcher… He turned to face the speaker, glaring as angrily as hard as his new form possibly could.
“You seem upset. Didn’t you read the fine print?” Hooft asked in a seemingly morbid curiosity. “This experiment” he began to read “is for the process of changing humans into equestrian life forms and as such may and will result in transfiguration that will be irreversible.” Fred’s eye began to twitch, he felt a great anger well up inside of him. “By signing this sheet yadda yadda yadda are untouchable in a court of law in any country, providence, or republic.” His headache became a splitting migraine, his blood vessels visibly began to bulge from his forehead.
“If said test subject were to die within our care they shall be given a burial in an unmarked grave, have all the records of his existence be wiped imme-” With a mighty rip the speaker flew from the wall and into the door, knocking it off its hinges. Angry and near the brink of insanity he took the opportunity and headed down the hall. A group of guards immediately jumped in front of the angry man…horse…thing. He pulled his shank from his jumpsuit and sliced one of them in the knee before the rest pulled guns and pointed them at him.
He realized his plan was going wrong he began to think. He noticed a door next to him was open and jumped in, closing it behind him. He quickly locked it (a surprisingly easy feat considering his hooves) and began to search the room for heavy items to block the door. As his pursuers started to bang on the door he was able to knock a filing cabinet over in front of it. He looked around the room for a place to escape, he saw another man come towards him, this one wearing a trucker cap, tee shirt and holding a wrench. In a burst of instinct he turned around, reared up, and kicked the man square in the chest, sending him flying across the room and into the wall.
The banging on the door was getting more violent and Doc was starting to panic. He looked around the room twice, maybe three times before his eyes finally set on a ladder leading to an air vent, looking back at the man he began to think he was probably fixing it, but that wasn’t important now. He climbed up the ladder and into the vent just in time.
The guards were able to break the window open just in time to see his tail duck inside.
“He’s in the vents!” One of them shouted to the others. Although it was true he hadn’t the faintest of ideas where to go, his hooves were loud and echo-y on the metallic shafts, and it was freezing. He began to crawl through the vents and prayed that they were stupid enough to waste time on attempting to crawl into where he had come from.
Hooft stood mortified. He did not have any words to describe what had just occurred. “P-princess Celestia, I do not know how to say how sorry I-”
“Don’t be sorry,” Her calming voice said to him “The test was successful was it not?”
“But Ma’am, an insane inmate is somewhere in the building! He was able to throw that speaker with-”
“Magic, yes I know, but the serum works and we are one step closer.”
“He’s killed before! Nothing is stopping him from coming through the door and strangling us to-”
“It is fine. Even if he manages to kill us our plan will still go forward without a hitch.”
Her smirking face was only a minor comfort to him as the monitors before him showed the inmate incapacitating a guard. “I shall leave you to your work doctor. I have things to do.” Her large heavenly body began to leave the room as Hooft could only stammer. After the door shut behind her long, multicolored mane he sighed.
“I should have stayed in marketing.”
“He WHAT?!” was the response from the phone. Hooft knew calling police would only serve in getting in deeper trouble, but with one of his 4 guards and a civilian down he knew it was the only responsible option.
“He escaped, I need you to send all of your available officers to the labs as well as two ambulances.”
“AND HE’S TAKEN OUT TWO PEOPLE?” The officer screamed in his ear, clearly furious.
“We told you this was a terrible idea! We told you that one little slip-up would end up with you huddled in a corner with a knife in your-”
”We don’t have time for this! How many people have to die before you get your fat ass off that chair and into the line of fire?!” The other side hung up on him.
He regretted getting that transfer.
He had come to grip with his situation. He was a man fleeing a laboratory that had turned him into a horse. He was hiding in a freezing air duct from people he assumed were going to kill him. First things first, I get out. I can hide out in the Ghetto, everyone there is either drunk or high. They’ll never believe them… but first I have to learn how big the place is, if there’s a cure, and if there is get it. He would have continued his train of thought but a loud creak interrupted it.
He looked down to see that the vent that was holding him was not supporting his weight. Before he could move the vent fell. Right on top of one of the guards as well. The radio began to say something.
“Dale, can you hear me? Dale? Is something wrong? All units head to Dale‘s position, something's wrong!” Petrified with fear Fred had no clue what to do, he was no longer going to be spared from the wrath of the guards, and he had no place to hide. He needed to think. He picked up the radio and began talking.
“No, no. It’s alright, I just blacked out for a second there. Everything is going fine.”
“Are you sure Dale? I could of sworn I heard something happen over there.”
“Oh, it was just... a mouse.” Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. “Say is anyone of you guys guarding the scientists?”
“No, but that’s a good idea. How about you go to the cafeteria and we’ll send them your way?” He looked at the walls and saw a sign pointing in the vicinity of the Cafeteria. Doc could hardly believe how trusting these guys were. It was almost like leading sheep.
“You do that. Over and out.”
He headed to the Cafeteria, a spring in his step having evaded capture once more.
“Was it me or did Dale sound a bit odd to you?” His compatriot said over the radio.
“I… don’t follow you Bill.”
“Well his voice sounded a lot less gruff than usual” Bill replied
“Besides Hank, I don’t this whole thing is really worth it.”
“No-not worth it?! You saw what he did to old Boomhauer, do you want that to happen to any of those nerds?!” A brief silence on the radio followed. “I thought so. Now what were you saying about his voice?”
“He just seemed to be a bit off. Didn’t sound like himself.”
“Well he’s probably just a bit startled is all.”
“I still don’t know…”
“Alright why don’t you go over to the cafeteria to see him yourself?” Hank put away his walkie talkie and began to clear out his share of rooms.
Hooft sat in a corner of the room, he didn’t care what Celestia had told him. He didn’t want to die, or at least not so early in his career. His office was filled with unpatented inventions, brilliant ideas, and wonderful recipes he had cooked up over the years and were just waiting to be released into the public. Well, all except for the Personal Information Portraying any Bodily Oddity, or as he liked to call it: the PIPBOY 3000. He was still tinkering with that one.
Suddenly, a thump on the door.
“Dr. Hooft? It’s me. We’re rounding up the scientists up in the cafeteria for safety.” He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll be right over.” He said, instantly calming down.
“I’m going to go get the others, are you safe on your own?” A short pause followed.
“Yes.”
“Alright then.” He heard the footsteps of the guard and once again he was alone.
He weighed his options, he could stay here alone and wait for his death to come, or he could wait in the cafeteria with a man armed and able to fend for himself.
He sighed and stood up. “I really wish I hadn’t got that transfer.”
As the scientists walked into the door he’d quickly point his knife at them before directing them to the wall. It was slow going as most of them had no clue how to react or what he was saying, but eventually he had an entire line up of generic professors and doctors.
“Now, which of you is Doctor Van Hooft?” He asked, leaving the blade pointing towards them and easily within his reach. They were all silent, none wishing to be the one who told him the news.
“He’s THERE!” One of them shouted pointing to the doorway, and true to the unnamed scientist’s word there was Hooft, shaken to the core by what he was seeing.
Wasting no time Hooft ran and Doc followed suit after grabbing the homemade weapon that was growing more and more useful by the minute. As soon as they left the door leading to the Kitchen swung open revealing a security guard. The scientists flung themselves to his feet and began to tell him there own version of what had been happening for the past 5 minutes.
Confused and gaining a headache Bill took out his walkie talkie. “Hank, get over here.”
Doc could hardly believe it, his plan worked! He was one step closer to getting back to humanity! He was right behind Hooft and was less than a footstep from him and gaining! Doc tackled him, knocking Hooft to the ground.
There was no way in hell he was going to lose this opportunity. He sliced one of the doctor’s tendons, quickly covering Hooft’s mouth as he screamed for help. His medical expertise had come in handy once more.
“Turn me back.” Doc said, the blood from his incision coating his jumpsuit.
“I can’t! It’s irreversible!”
He made another cut up the doctors leg. “Turn me back!” Hooft was starting to try and crawl from his attacker, slowly heading towards a door marked ‘Exit’.
“I can’t! We didn‘t even know it would have worked!” Doc grabbed the scientist’s immobile leg and pulled him toward the door.
“TURN.” He set the leg down in the path of the door. “No!”
“ME.” He reared up the door. “Don’t do it! I-”
“BACK!” He slammed the door on his leg, a sickening crack filling the air as Hooft’s leg turned into nothing more than a flimsy twig wrapped in meat. He was crying now, still trying to crawl from the man he had changed. Doc continued to slam the door on Hooft’s leg, over and over again. Repeating the same chant as the horrible sounds continued, eventually his shouts became little more than tearful whimpers and the slams became taps.
“Turn me back.” He’d said again, tears flowing from his over-sized eyes. Doc collapsed into an indigo heap of a broken man, he’d lost more than he’d even thought possible. The crying, between Hooft’s tears of pain and Doc’s of helpless misery, echoed the hallways louder than a small child’s could have ever.
And in one way or another one could compare Doc to a small child; Scared, alone, and unsure of what he can do.
Experiment #FIM-1
Patient’s name: Doctor George Fredrickson
Gender: Male
Species: Equestrian
Conclusion: Failure
Further Notes: The patient was able to escape using magic. After escaping the patient injured 4, (including the head researcher) with a hand-crafted knife he had snuck into the facility. Security tapes of the date, specifically Numbers 16, 17, and 19 through 25 reveal several oddities in his escape behavior: searching for and chasing down Doctor Van Hooft rather than a way to escape, something that was available to him since tape 20.
He claims he has no recollection of signing up for the experiment, claiming he was tricked by a tall, mustached man. Doctor Fredrickson was taken by armed guards to the Equestrian Prison for The Criminally Insane. His number is #11912.
His contributions to the experiment has given us a conclusion that FIM-1 was harmful to the human psyche. Further tests are needed.
