The hum of machinery is muted and distant as his eyes slowly open.
He blinks.
Again.
It's dark.
Too dark…
He can't tell if his eyes are even open.
And then a blinding light floods his vision.
He hisses and looks away, hating the light for its intrusion.
He tries to look at the light again, but its still too bright.
His head feels heavy, and tight.
He closes his eyes, wishing to return to the darkness.
But then a monotone voice fills his head with a ringing sensation.
The sound feeling like nails in his ears as he quickly covers them, causing the voice's words to be muffled.
Not that he cares what the voice says.
The voice and the light are evil.
Causing him pain.
He lies still, holding his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. Hating the sensations.
After his head stops throbbing, he slowly opens his eyes. They eventually get used to the blinding light, which he can now identify as a bright green. The voice has stopped and his eyes follow the light to its source as he sits up. The ghastly green light bathes the darkness around him with a cold, clinical hue.
He looks around, noticing that he is sitting in some sort of capsule. There are tubes and wires attached to him, which he pulls out as he looks to the source of the green light. The light is still too bright for him and he has to look away again. Examining his capsule further, he notices a logo on the lid of his capsule.
GENTEC Inc.
His fingers run over the bold block letters, feeling the gritty texture of the chipping paint as his eyes wander to a number below. 24? Are there others here? He looks around. Squinting into the darkness at the edge of what the hated light touches.
But there is nothing.
He finally builds up to looking at the light directly. It is a screen. Nothing exciting. Just mono-space letters matching the font on the capsule.
GENTEC Inc.
He reaches out to touch the screen and immediately retreats when the voice returns. It is gravely and monotone. Lacking any sympathy for him as its words grate on his overly sensitive ears.
~"Welcome to GENTEC Incorporated. Please touch the screen to continue."~
His desire to touch the screen is quickly replaced with indignation at the voice's request. The light he will tolerate but not the voice.
He hates the voice.
…
….
...
...….
After a long moment of silence, broken only by the distant sounds of machinery and the quiet hum produced by the screen, he misses the voice. It is cold and cruel, but better than the lifelessness the dark offers.
He touches the screen and it comes to life, the green letters disappearing and rewriting themselves on the screen, the voice reading them aloud as they do.
~"You are a participant in the Lazarus Project. Before we begin, please answer a few questions."~
A chill runs down his spine at that name.
The Lazarus Project.
It rang a bell.
A twisted, broken bell that wanted to stay buried in the back of his aching mind.
The voice reads off the first question.
~"What is the current year?"~
He thinks for a bit, his head throbbing. "I… I don't know…. I can't remember…."
~"Memory loss recorded. Date: Absent."~
"A-absent?" He asks tepidly, but the voice just moves on.
~"What is your name?"~
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
His chest tightens.
Breath quickening.
"M-my name? W-why can't I remember my name!?"
~"Memory loss recorded. Name: Absent."~
His face contorts with rage.
"What do you mean 'absent'?! Give it back!"
~"What is the Lazarus Project?"~
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!! GIVE ME BACK MY NAME!!!"
The screen does not respond, adding to his frustration. He hits the screen. Desperation growing as he breaks down into tears "Answer me!! Please…"
A long silence from the voice.
He grits his teeth. "I don't remember…"
~"Memory loss recorded. Final evaluation: 100% Tendency."~
His breath catches in his throat as his chest tightens. "T-tendency? W-what the hell is 'Tendency'?!"
The voice does not answer, instead, a transmission crackles to life. The new voice is deep and sounds tired, but alive, a pleasant change from the dead voice of the machine.
~"Hello, subject…" there is a pause and shuffling of papers can be heard, "24. Welcome to Phlegethon. This is where you will begin your journey in the Lazarus Project. I can answer any of your questions at the moment if you would like."~
The man's voice does not give any comfort, but answers might.
"What is my name?" He begs.
A pause and a sigh from the new voice.
~"If you do not remember your name there is no reason for you to worry about it. You may either choose a new name or just be called 13."~
He looks down at his capsule again, it still reads 24.
"I thought you said I was subject 24?"
Another exasperated sigh.
~"24 is the number of the Lazarus Pod you were placed in. But, if you wish to be 'Pod 24 C' then I will not stop you."~
He grits his teeth, at least the old voice didn't have an attitude.
"Then why would I be called 13?"
~"Because, you are the 13th 'Blank'."~
His chest tightens again.
"B-blank?"
~"Yes, Blank Slate. That is what we call subjects with 100% Tendency"~
"Tendency?" He questions. "I keep hearing that word. Why don't you tell me what it means already?!"
The voice sounds annoyed as it answers. ~"The Lazarus Tendency, or just Tendency, is the phenomenon that has caused your memory loss. Its why you can't remember your name. Or the date. Or even why you are here. Beyond the memory loss, there is no observable detriment without exceeding 100% Tendency."~
He is quiet for a while, not knowing if he even wants more information, but he has to ask.
"Then… what happens above 100% Tendency?"