Guinea-pig (standard:Psychological fiction, 1233 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Jun 05 2014	Views/Reads: 2703/1763	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
More than a simple cure, how far can this experiment go?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Up the ladder he went, even being invited to join several exclusive
clubs reserved only for wealthy, high status individuals. He bought 
himself three houses in the capital, bought six cars he hardly used, 
didn't give a single penny to charity, or to buskers. In fact, he 
thought buskers and street entertainers lowered the tone of the area, 
and even made some suggestions to several politician friends to get 
them 'thrown away' as they irked him simply by being there. 

He climbed society's hierachial structure until he ended up here,
asleep, opposite me, the one who made him, back in a house in a 
Newcastle suburb. The clock in his mind ticked early in the morning 
when he had to attend an important meeting. He was approaching the 
swivel doors to an office complex when he turned and headed back to his 
car, back to Newcastle where he pulled up outside the train station. 
That was where I got in and led him here. 

I stood up and approached him, looking down at the man who helped make
me who I am. I am grateful to him of course, but the experiment has 
concluded. It succeeded far beyond my expectations. I can make anybody 
do anything, and I fully intend to exploit that. I know I can do far 
more than what I have done here, with him. I wonder how far I can go. I 
lean down and talk quietly in his ear: 'In five minutes you will wake. 
You will leave this house and drive back to the jewellers where you 
will return to your former self as if nothing has happened. You will 
have no memory of this, of me. You will be you. Thank you for 
everything, more than you will ever know'.  Then I turned and walked 
out of the house. 

I just wanted to watch him go back to his normal self, so I sat in the
back seat of the car and waited for him. He soon emerged and got into 
the drivers seat. None of us spoke. I don't think he knew I was there. 
It wasn't long in getting back to the jewellers, still there after five 
years parking outside. Why is it jewellers never go out of business?  
Nobody can afford their stupid prices for even the cheapest thing, but 
still, it seems they are immune to any financial failings. 

We both left the car. Russell crossed to the window. I stand near a
phone-box, looking inconspicuious. He looked at the bracelets for what 
seemed like one whole minute. "Expensive these, arn't they?" he said, 
looking around. "I said they're...." He frowned, looking around. 
"Where's she gone?" he muttered. He stood there for a few moments, 
shook his head, walked back to the car, and drove away, driving 'home'. 
I smiled, gave him a little wave, and knew my work had much more 
potential. 


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