In a harmonious society, challenging the iron fist of authority was the fastest way to die.
For someone who had spent his entire previous life bending under pressure—working endless hours, swallowing humiliation, living from paycheck to paycheck—submission came naturally. The so-called dignity of resistance had never been part of his vocabulary. He had no romantic notion of revolution. If anything, he had learned long ago that survival meant keeping your head down and your mouth shut.
After all, even in his previous life, he'd eventually realized that no amount of hard work would save him. If anything, the most realistic dream had been finding some wealthy patron to sponsor his existence.
Now?
He didn't even have that.
No phone.
No games.
No food worth tasting.
No entertainment.
No human interaction.
Just an endless cycle of silence, examinations, and waiting.
At first, he believed this was simply how things would be. Isolation. Observation. Routine testing. Perhaps it would continue until he died naturally.
But once his body reached a certain stage of development, everything changed.
The white coats stopped pretending to be cautious.
They began to experiment.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
Deliberately.
Cuts. Burns. Blunt trauma. Puncture wounds. Injuries applied with precision and intent. Some tools were familiar. Others were not. The goal was never information extracted through pain—pain itself was merely a tool.
They wanted data.
How fast did wounds heal?
How much trauma could the body endure?
What level of electrical current caused unconsciousness?
What temperature caused tissue failure?
At first, the damage was limited to non-lethal areas. Limbs. Torso. Surface injuries. Then the severity escalated.
Broken bones.
Fractured limbs.
Crushed tissue.
Not out of cruelty, but curiosity.
They weren't torturers. They were researchers.
And that made it worse.
He had endured exhaustion in his previous life. Stress. Anxiety. The suffocating pressure of modern survival. But none of that compared to physical pain delivered methodically, without emotion.
Back then, at least suffering had an end. A weekend. A paycheck. Sleep.
Here, pain was the routine.
And judging by the trajectory of the experiments, it was obvious where this would lead.
Dissection.
Organ extraction.
Pathogen exposure.
Eventually, preservation in a jar or reduction to slides under a microscope.
The realization hollowed him out.
Oddly enough, the isolation of his earlier years almost felt merciful in comparison. At least then, he had been alone with his thoughts. Now, even pain was no longer private.
There were moments—brief, shameful moments—where he found himself longing for the days of suffering. At least then, he had been alive.
Now he was simply being used.
Sometimes, he wondered if this was punishment.
Perhaps he had lived too passively. Too cowardly. Perhaps death itself had deemed him unworthy of peace.
Time lost meaning.
Days blurred into nights under artificial light that never turned off. Food stopped arriving regularly. Water still flowed, but hunger gnawed at him constantly. His already malnourished body grew weaker. Splints remained on broken limbs longer than necessary.
At some point, even pain dulled.
Eventually, he collapsed.
His heart slowed. His breathing weakened. Consciousness faded.
The last thing he remembered thinking was how ironic it was.
In his previous life, death had come quickly.
Here, it came slowly.
With awareness.
With hunger.
With regret.
____________________
Records indicate that Subject НЛО-один ceased vital activity shortly thereafter.
But the world did not end.
Time passed.
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Director's Log — Restricted Access
Location: Siberian Research Facility No. 4012019
Director: Petrov Roslov
_________________________________________________________________________
1970.04.20
A large meteor impact was reported in the Siberian region. Investigation revealed a craft of unknown origin. Within it, a human infant was discovered.
By order of superiors, the crash site was sealed and a research facility established. The subject has been designated "Extraterrestrial Subject One."
_________________________________________________________________________
1974.06.26
One of the researchers suggested dissection.
An absolute fool.
We have only one specimen. To destroy it for curiosity would be unforgivable. I have filed a report to have him removed. If I had my way, he'd never work in a laboratory again.
We are scientists, not butchers.
_________________________________________________________________________
1976.08.14
Subject's growth rate appears mostly human. Appetite remains inconsistent. Some propose increasing nutritional intake to observe potential growth variance.
Others fear allowing full development could create unpredictable results.
Given current global conditions—and the growing number of mutant incidents—I have chosen to restrict growth.
We cannot afford another uncontrollable variable.
_________________________________________________________________________
1980.02.19
Progress is unsatisfactory.
The craft's materials remain beyond replication. Subject's biology shows no enhancement suitable for military use. Blood and spinal fluid offer no benefit.
X-ray imaging reveals skeletal structure indistinguishable from humans.
If not for the circumstances of his arrival, one would assume he is simply… human.
This is troubling.
_________________________________________________________________________
1983.09.30
Mutant conflicts abroad have intensified. Pressure from above continues to increase.
They want results.
Weapons. Enhancements. Soldiers.
They do not understand that science does not obey deadlines.
Still, I am certain there is something hidden within the subject. There must be. No civilization capable of interstellar travel would ignore biological advancement.
Perhaps we are simply not looking deeply enough.
_________________________________________________________________________
1986.12.08
Funding is being reduced.
Several projects have already been terminated. Our facility is under review.
With limited time remaining, I have authorized more aggressive testing. The subject has reached adolescence. If something is to emerge, it must do so soon.
_________________________________________________________________________
1989.11.09
The Wall has fallen.
Everything is changing.
Funding is uncertain. Political loyalty means nothing anymore. The old systems are collapsing, and with them, our protections.
If the project is to survive, sacrifices must be made.
_________________________________________________________________________
1990.08.01
I have been informed that I am under investigation.
They claim I have misused funds. That I have exceeded authority. That I have endangered national interests.
Fools.
They do not understand what stands before them.
I will not abandon this research. I will see it through, even if it costs me everything.
End of Log.
_________________________________________________________________________
The research facility was abandoned soon after.
Years later, a group of locals stumbled upon the ruins.
They found empty rooms. Rusted equipment. Food stores long expired. Notes scattered across desks. Even a vehicle, left behind in haste.
And somewhere beneath it all—
Something that should not have survived.
Something that had been forgotten.
Something that had waited.