No Use Sulking Over Unnoticed Metaphors

“Honestly? I’m not surprised most people here could have connections to Biowidth Station like you and Celia,” said Axel. “But for you to not have your name here? Now that’s fishy.”

“Then, what does the list mean?” asked Noah.

The detective wore that unusual, knowing look again. “Do you recognize any other names, Radio?”

I scanned the list again. “No, only Celia. You?”

“Same here.” He sighed, face etched with disappointment. “In any case, I suppose it’s safe to assume that this page lists all the people somehow involved with Biowidth Station. We can’t be sure it’s a list of test subjects yet because your name isn’t in there, Noah.”

“Yeah,” said the kid.

“And it’s not a list of their employees either,” I said. “My name would be included otherwise.” I slumped my shoulders and glowered. “My serial number doesn’t exist, and now my name’s not mentioned. Do I even exist?”

Axel threw that annoying, knowing look at me again before shrugging. “Anyway, we have a bunch of people to investigate now. Too many people, actually. Radio, can you find out what your neighbors have been up to?”

I opened a few holographic tabs and did my work, but as seconds turned into minutes, I raised a brow. “Say, Axel?” I asked.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’ve never seen these names before? Not even in missing person lists?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Look.” I expanded a tab listing their activity logs, the most recent ones dating back months. "Either my neighbors hate using the internet, or they’ve never returned to this place for months.”

“What?” Axel inched closer to the screen. “You’re telling me they all went missing?”

“No wonder I’ve never heard any noise,” I murmured. “No one’s in these rooms for a long time.”

“You’ve never realized it?”

“Yeah? What they do is none of my business.”

“Then, where did they go?” Noah nervously asked. “Where did Momma go?”

“Right, that should be our next priority then.” Axel turned to face me with a stern and steadfast gaze. “How about we visit your director’s office for our next stop?”

Mirroring his expression, I nodded and headed out, Axel and Noah following closely behind.

⫿⫼⟁⫼⫿

“You know, ever since we arrived here, I was prepared to get ambushed at any moment,” said Axel, cautiously stepping inside the shadowy office. “But I didn’t expect your boss to actually ditch this place without any traps.”

“Same thought,” I said, switching on the lights. “I can never understand his thought process.”

“This place is creepy,” said Noah, shuddering. “And cold.”

“Sure is.” I strode toward The Director’s desk. “You guys can look around. I’ll see what I can find on his computer.”

“Got it, partner,” said Axel, claiming a corner. Noah copied him and took the opposite side.

While I waited for the computer to boot up, I scavenged through the drawers, but I paused when something glinted: a familiar golden heart I stole last night.

I stared at my reflection and gave myself a frown. To think The Director never actually used it—or maybe he didn’t care as much as I thought and forgot about it. I didn’t know whether I should be pissed that my heist meant nothing or sympathize with this prosthetic.

A heart of gold had no place here—he didn't deserve it. Screw him.

I picked up the prosthetic and tossed it to Axel, explaining the story and asking him to return it to its rightful owner. Although confused at first, the detective nodded and agreed to it.

Meanwhile, Noah had been emptying file cabinets in a corner. Since he couldn’t quite understand the sophisticated vocabulary, he decided to pull out every scrap of paper he could find and pile them up for Axel.

It was a little inconvenient to read through them all, but even the child knew that the smallest clues could get us closer to our answers, and through a stroke of luck, Axel found something. He furrowed his brows while reading a certain page, gradually turning pale. When he finished, he turned to me and asked, “Radio, did you find anything yet?”

“Tsk, that director must’ve found out I’d pry into his computer or something—he cleared out all of his files. What’s up?”

“It seems like your boss was so concerned with digital files that he forgot physical copies exist. Check this out.” He handed over the paper, and I scanned it:

“HTS #420 Report: Celia Rosaly
Experiment Date: October 30, 2054
Status: Completed

Objective: Celia Rosaly, a 35-year-old female, was injected with 1.5cc of Neuronite, a serum designed to alter living cells under specific circumstances. Due to her significantly low chance of surviving lung cancer, the patient was chosen to partake in this experiment. The goal was to test the effects of Neuronites on cancer cells and assess the serum’s effectiveness in total memory suppression without the influence of radio frequencies. Because she is still human, giving her a new name will not be necessary.

Experiment Process: After injection, Subject #420’s cancer cells were gradually exterminated. The subject also displayed immediate signs of memory loss, and by the end of the first day, she had accepted her given career without question. The serum worked as intended, and over the next few weeks, Subject #420’s adaptation to her new role continued smoothly with no signs of distress.

Current Status: Subject #420 remains stable. Her memory has been completely erased, her cancer has been removed, and she has successfully integrated into her new life with no signs of emotional conflict following the serum’s administration. Psychological evaluations confirm full compliance and emotional detachment from previous life experiences. 

Conclusion: The experiment has succeeded, showing that the serum can effectively cure cancer, albeit at the cost of her memories similar to all other test subjects. Further observation may continue for any unexpected side effects before discarding the subject.

Additional Notes: Now that Neuronites have been proven to terminate cancer cells, the next series of experiments will focus on younger age groups. Perhaps Subject #420's offspring will be suitable as the next test subject. It'd be wasteful to silence him along with her spouse, after all...”

I gawked at the two of them, speechless.

“What? What is it?” asked Noah.

I traded reluctant glances with the detective, who gave an ‘up to you’ look. I frowned and met the kid’s anxious stare.

Noah’s gone through so much to find his mother, I thought. The least we can do is share the truth. I inhaled and said, “Biowidth Station... had been experimenting on your mother and erasing her memories.”

The boy flinched as if my words delivered a punch to his face. He widened his eyes before gripping his pants. “Oh,” he mumbled, trembling. “I… should’ve realized it sooner. If they saw me as a test subject, th-then, Momma…” He sniffled and wiped the tears welling his eyes. “I… I don’t get it. Why does it have to be Mom? Why my family?”

Axel patted his back. “There’s no right answer to evil,” he said, scanning a few more pages. “And there is no limit either. They’ve done the same things to the other residents. Look.”

He opened more scanned images of test reports, all of which belonged to the other residents. Even worse, all of them… ended in death, whether it be a failed experiment or Biowidth Station "discarding" them, explaining their disappearance.

“God, reading all this makes me sick,” Axel muttered, crumpling the papers under his grasp. “Seems like the list we found was all the people they’ve already experimented with.”

“All of these test subjects… were injected with this Neuronite serum? The hell is that?” I asked.

“Some sort of brainwashing substance that affects your body cells, apparently. All these victims died living a false life.”

“That’s horrible!” said Noah. “How could someone be so evil?!”

“Welcome to the real world,” I said. “But that’s odd. If everyone here was experimented on, then what about me? Is it because I’m an android that I’m an exception?”

“Seems like it,” said the detective. “If you look at the file name, it says ‘HTS.’ I’m almost certain it stands for ‘Human Test Subjects,’ so you’re not included.”

“Oh.”

Axel creased his brows. “That’s all you gotta say?”

“What? Am I supposed to realize something?”

He threw that knowing look again before shaking his head. He stood up, spun on his heels, and walked toward the open door. “Never mind. Based on all these death reports, I'm afraid we're running out of time to find Celia. With this new lead, my intuition tells me we’ll find out everything from where it all started,” he said, stepping outside. “And that’s—”

The detective flinched and turned to his left, staring straight into the eye of a gun’s muzzle.