My name is Gilbert and really that’s all I need and want to tell you for now along with my story. I must confess, my view of life was rather bleak. To be fair, I’m a doctor, so that is all I see at my day at work. Birth, life, death – a cycle without inherent purpose, or so I believed. That was until yesterday, a day that irreversibly altered my understanding of existence itself and made me value the short time we have in this Life again and after this story, I hope you, dear reader, will too.
I guess I’ll have to provide some background about myself to make sure you will have a better understanding of what I’m about to share. I am a doctor who graduated in record time, with all the doors to various prestigious opportunities worldwide open to me. I spent my early career in several hospitals, successfully performing countless surgeries and child births and rapidly ascending to the pinnacle of my career path by the age of only 27. Despite my professional success and the comfortable life it afforded me, complete with ample free time for holidays and hobbies, a sense of true happiness eluded me. I was simply… bored. But that was about to change.
It began at an elite medical festival, a gathering that only the most influential and accomplished figures in the medical field could attend. This is where I first encountered Dr. Hill, a man renowned for his groundbreaking work in prenatal development. He was known as a maverick, a genius teetering on the edge of madness. It was there, among other prominent figures, that he invited me to join him in his cutting-edge research. Usually, these events were more a showcase of power and prestige, a competition over who had the most success or the highest salary.
I had been invited to many such events, but this one was different – it was an assembly of the academically elite, the ones you don’t get to meet as a normal person, maybe not even as the president from any state. I attended with my wife, Dolores, and we enjoyed a fairly pleasant evening – at least, it was as close to happiness as I was capable of feeling at the time.
I was then called by Dr. Hill from another table. The guests were well into their drinks, but still sharp enough for conversation. “You must be the young doctor everyone is so fascinated with,” one of Dr. Hill’s seemingly esteemed colleagues remarked. “How do you do it?” “Do what? Being a lot smarter than others? Just in my blood, I guess,’ I quipped, eliciting laughter from the entire table. The joke wasn’t particularly funny, but I suppose humor takes on a different shade amongst the wealthy and influential. Such assholes.
The laughter came to an abrupt halt as Dr. Hill cleared his throat, his gesture clearly demanding silence. “I must say, I’m impressed, kid. You’ve done well in your career so far, and I hope to see your good work continue”, he said. “Thank you, Sir”, I replied, extending my hand for a handshake, which he reciprocated. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment”, Hill said.
In an instant, everyone seated at the table rose in unison, as if responding to an unspoken command from the high-ranking doctor and scientist. We were alone now, my wife waiting sitting at the table we earlier were. Tell me, Dr. Gilbert, what do you know about me?” Dr. Hill inquired abruptly. I adjusted my bow tie, not needing to ponder long before responding. “Your extensive research in prenatal care, your efforts in preventing child mortality, and, of course, your groundbreaking work in treating mental illnesses,” I replied.
Dr. Hill nodded, but a silence ensued, heavy with expectation, as though he yearned for more. Yet, my knowledge of him was scant in detail. Rumors abounded of his ‘great efforts,’ but to what end? “Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Hill dismissed with a shrug. “I merely wished to ascertain your readiness for what I am about to reveal. I needed to ensure no one has tainted your perspective beyond what you already know.”
“What a weird response?”, I thought to myself, puzzled by his cryptic words. What could he possibly be hinting at that I hadn’t already gleaned? “Well, Dr. Gilbert”, he began, “I am assembling the finest doctors and scientists from around the world and you, my dear, fit right in.”
His invitation, delivered in such an enigmatic manner, intrigued me. Despite my already demanding schedule and the solace I found in my leisure time, the allure of his project was… inexplicably captivating. We started the very conversation that would later turn out to change my life forever. Dr. Hill began, “You know, humans have always been insatiable in their quest for answers, especially regarding the universe’s mysteries. They seem to believe there must be a logical explanation for everything.” I looked puzzled. “I’m not sure I follow.”
He continued, “Consider the experiments of Friedrich II, the so-called Kasper-Hauser-Experiment. They were more than mere historical curiosities; they were a testament to human curiosity and the lengths one might go to understand the unknown.” I couldn’t help but express my disapproval, “But those experiments were unethical, gruesome even. They didn’t advance human research; they were the whims of a delusional king.”
Dr. Hill conceded but with a point, “One cannot deny their effectiveness in exploring human nature.” Confused, I asked, “Effective? How can you say that?” He was ready to enlighten me. “The true revelation of Friedrich’s experiments was the discovery of the divine gift of language to humans. The idea was that the first words spoken by a human, untouched by societal influence, could grant a genuine wish.”
Skeptical, I challenged him, “Are you sure you’re not just… drunk? This sounds like fantasy.” He assured me, “My faculties are as clear as ever. The concept of a ‘wish’ isn’t just a metaphor or flowery language. It’s real, tangible, and has been proven as effective.”
Now more attentive, I inquired, “Proven? How?” Dr. Hill explained, “A newborn, at the moment of gaining consciousness, has the capacity to make one wish – a true, impactful wish. It’s more than just a child’s first cry; it’s a primal, unarticulated desire, powerful in its simplicity.”
Intrigued, I asked about the nature of these wishes. He elaborated, “In most cases, the wish is instinctive, like ‘I want to live’ or ‘I don’t want to die now.’ It’s not just a wish for survival; it’s a shaping force, a declaration that guides their path in life. But imagine if we could harness and direct that wish, the possibilities are limitless.”
I was still doubtful. “I’ve dedicated my life to science, to tangible, proven methods of saving lives. How can you expect me to believe in something as fanciful as a ‘wish’?” He urged me to consider the capabilities of historical figures like Friedrich II. “He was able to harness at least one wish from those newborns. These wishes carry an incredible force.”
“So, he used these wishes to propel his own ambitions?” I questioned. “Exactly,” Dr. Hill replied. “While the ethics are questionable, the underlying principle is what we’re exploring. What if we could use this force for the betterment of humanity?” I took some time to think. Dr. Hill wasn’t some kind of hysteric conspiracy guy, he was one of the most intelligent people in the world.
Curious, I asked why he needed me specifically for this project. He explained the importance of the newborns not speaking until the critical moment when their wish is to be expressed. “This requires a delicate balance of care, an environment where their physical and emotional needs are met without eliciting vocalization.”
“And you believe I can help maintain this balance?” I asked. “Precisely,” he confirmed. “Your expertise in neonatal care and developmental psychology is crucial. We need someone who understands the profound sensitivity of this research. Who better than you, Dr. Gilbert?”
I gazed deeply into Dr. Hill’s eyes, utterly captivated by the man. Was this the elusive boundary between genius and madness? I reached for my wine glass and drained it in a single gulp.
“Count me in”, I said.
On the following day, two men in black suits arrived at my house, carrying with them a contract that felt as heavy as the air around us. Despite the ominous feeling it evoked, I signed it. Later that day, I was escorted to a secret facility, its location and existence known only to the people dedicated to this project with all of their heart and mind.
Upon arrival, I was greeted by a team of intelligent-looking doctors and scientists, and of course, Dr. Hill. The facility itself was a marvel - cutting-edge technology and equipment lined every room, and the air buzzed with the energy of groundbreaking research. My initial awe, however, was tempered by a growing sense of unease.
Dr. Hill led me down a long hallway, at the end of which stood a massive door. As we approached, he turned to me with a grave expression. “Once you step through this door, your previous life is behind you. There’s no turning back,” he said. I had already signed a confidentiality agreement, but hearing these words directly from Dr. Hill made the reality of my situation sink in more deeply.
After a moment of contemplation, I accepted this new, unknown path and stepped through the door, leaving my old life behind and what I saw there definitely had an impact on me I cannot describe in word, but I will try my best.
Beyond that formidable door, my life as I knew it irrevocably changed. What I witnessed was a scene straight out of a surreal nightmare. Countless rooms lined the hallway, each fronted with one-way mirrors. Behind these, I could see pregnant women, all in a deep slumber. They were hooked to machines, their bellies prominently displayed. The stillness of their forms was unsettling—they appeared more like lifeless mannequins than living, breathing beings. Yet, the monitors beside them told a different story; their vital signs flickered and beeped, a stark contradiction to their eerie stillness.
Doctors and nurses moved silently among these rooms, their faces a mix of concentration and detached professionalism. They constantly monitored the women, adjusting equipment, making meticulous notes. The atmosphere was clinical, yet there was an underlying current of something darker, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
As I walked further, the realization dawned on me - this facility wasn’t just a research center; it was a breeding ground for Dr. Hill’s experiments. The pregnant women, each carrying a potential life that might possess that elusive ‘wish,’ were at the heart of it all. The ethical implications were overwhelming. What had I become a part of? The gravity of my decision weighed heavily on me as I continued through the facility, each step taking me deeper into a world that defied all my beliefs as a doctor.
Fury and disbelief coursed through me as I turned to Dr. Hill, my voice barely contained. “What are you doing here? This is… this is unethical, it’s monstrous!” Standing beside him were the same two men who had visited my house, their presence now taking on a more sinister implication.
Dr. Hill attempted to placate me, his voice a steady contrast to my rising anger. But my moral compass, unwavering in its direction, stood in stark opposition to his justifications.
Then, with a chilling calmness, Dr. Hill laid bare the consequences of my decision. “You were given a choice, Dr. Gilbert, and you accepted,” he said. “If you walk away now, you’ll not only destroy your career but everything you’ve worked for. Your reputation, your life as you know it, I can change it all. Consider the ramifications before making any hasty decisions.”
His words hit me like a physical blow, the realization of my predicament dawning on me. I was caught in a web of my own making, lured by curiosity and now trapped by consequences. The gravity of my situation was clear: compliance with Dr. Hill’s project or the ruin of everything I held dear. It was a choice that seemed to offer no real choice at all.
I tried to calm down, but I couldn’t. The shift in Dr. Hill’s demeanor was jarring, a stark contrast to the man I had conversed with just the day before at the event. He now exuded an air of cold authority, a far cry from the passionate scientist who had spoken of groundbreaking discoveries and the betterment of humanity. It was as if he had donned a new persona overnight, one that was more fitting for the overseer of this unsettling facility.
“If I may continue my explanation of this place now, Dr. Gilbert,” Dr. Hill said, his voice steady and devoid of the warmth I had previously associated with him. It was in this moment that I fully grasped the gravity of my situation – I had been tricked, lured into a scenario far beyond my worst imaginations.
I stood there, a mix of anger and a growing sense of dread, as I realized the depths of deception and moral corruption I had unwittingly become a part of. Dr. Hill, the man I had respected and believed to be a pioneer in the field of science, was now a symbol of the ethical lines blurred and crossed in the pursuit of something both groundbreaking and potentially horrific.
Led by Dr. Hill, I was taken to what would be my new workspace, a room starkly different from any I had worked in before. The room was occupied by a woman, visibly pregnant and on the verge of giving birth. Dr. Hill referred to her coldly as “Test Subject W12,” reducing her to a mere identifier.
It was a dehumanizing moment, one that made me question the moral landscape I had now entered.
Around her were stationed a team of professionals, introduced as my own. I was struck by the clinical, detached manner in which everyone operated, a stark contrast to the compassionate care I had always practiced.
Dr. Hill unveiled the nature of my assignment – Project “Wunschkind-12.” My role was to monitor W12, who was kept under constant sedation, ensuring both she and the fetus received the necessary nutrients to survive. The more Dr. Hill explained, the more the horrifying reality of my situation sank in.
The most chilling part of my task was yet to come. Dr. Hill detailed that I was to surgically alter the vocal cords of the child while still in utero. The procedure was to be precise, ensuring no permanent damage, as the ultimate goal was to restore the child’s ability to speak at the crucial moment – to make a wish.
This revelation struck me with a blend of fear, horror, and disbelief. The ethical lines I had vowed never to cross as a doctor were not just blurred but obliterated in this project. I was to play a part in an experiment that toyed with the very essence of human life and dignity. The realization that my life as I knew it was over couldn’t have been clearer. I was now a part of something far bigger and far more terrifying than anything I had ever imagined.
“She is about to give birth, So you have to do it know Dr. Gilbert”, Hill said. As Dr. Hill uttered those words, a paralyzing terror gripped me. “Now?!” The thought echoed through my mind in disbelief. The realization hit hard - I was irrevocably entangled in this macabre scenario. There was no escape, no turning back.
Hill’s gaze was unyielding as he reiterated the terms of my involvement: I would only be allowed to leave this room after successfully performing the surgery. The pregnant woman, Test Subject W12, was swiftly wheeled into the adjacent operating room, where a team of 12 assistants awaited my lead. “This is your time to shine now, Dr. Gilbert,” Hill said, his voice chillingly calm.
Faced with this harrowing decision, I grappled with the magnitude of what I was being asked to do. It was a matter of life or death - not just for me, but potentially for the mother and her unborn child as well. What would become of them if I refused, if the procedure failed?
In that moment, I was forced to choose the lesser of two evils. If I didn’t perform the surgery, there was no telling what Dr. Hill and his associates might do to me, or worse, to the mother and child. My hands trembled as I donned the surgical gloves, each movement feeling like a betrayal of my oath as a doctor. But in this twisted reality, it seemed the only way to possibly save lives – or at least mitigate the damage. With a heavy heart and a mind clouded with ethical turmoil, I proceeded to do the unspeakable.
The surgery, a grueling test of both my skills and my conscience, stretched on for seven interminable hours. Under the sterile lights of the operating room, with Dr. Hill and the team observing every move, I executed the procedure as instructed. With precision and a sense of deep internal conflict, I altered the vocal cords of the unborn child, ensuring they would remain non-functional until the predetermined moment, yet still develop normally as the child grew. All of this, I did while the child was still safely ensconced in its mother’s womb.
The complexity of the surgery was unlike anything I had ever undertaken. Every incision, every manipulation was a stark reminder of the ethical line I had crossed. As I worked, the weight of my actions bore down on me, a constant reminder of the deal I had made – a deal with consequences far beyond my own life.
Following the completion of the surgery, the birth commenced. It lasted another ten hours, a tense and emotionally charged process. As the child was finally brought into the world, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and profound sorrow. Relief that the procedure and delivery had been successful, but sorrow for the role I had played in this dark scheme. The child, innocent yet already so deeply affected by our actions, represented both a medical marvel and a disturbing ethical quandary.
In that moment, I realized the full extent of the path I had chosen, a path that had led me far from the principles I once held dear as a doctor. The journey ahead was uncertain, the implications of our actions unknown, but one thing was clear – my life, and the lives of those entangled in this project, would never be the same.
“Well done,” Dr. Hill said, his voice devoid of the gravity that the moment deserved. To me, he had become a monster, personifying the darkest aspects of human ambition. With his permission, I staggered out of the room that had transformed into my personal hell. I was tired as hell, but the things I just did, wouldn’t let me sleep anyway.
Seeking refuge, I found myself in the bathroom, overcome with emotion. Tears streamed down my face as I wept for the newborn who couldn’t cry, for the violation of my own principles, for the grotesque act I had been coerced into committing. I was in there for two long hours, my cries echoing off the cold, indifferent tiles, pleading for forgiveness from a God I had never before believed in. In that moment, I felt monstrous, a shadow of the doctor I once was.
And the worst realization was that this ordeal was just the beginning. Reading the plan for “Wunschkind-12,” I learned of the child’s fate. After reaching the age of 13, I was to reconstruct its vocal cords, enabling it to speak – and to make a wish. A wish that was the culmination of a life orchestrated for this single purpose. The child would undergo intensive learning, preparing it to articulate a wish the moment it regained its voice. All this for one elusive, powerful wish. The sheer absurdity and cruelty of it twisted my stomach.
As I delved deeper, I discovered the horrifying truth of the facility. I wasn’t the first doctor to be roped into this nightmarish project. There had been others before me, each with their own haunting story. Some couldn’t live with the guilt and chose death over a life haunted by their actions. Others who failed in their task met a more sinister end at the hands of the foundation. The corridors of this place were haunted by the ghosts of their choices, their despair, and their end.
In this dark, secret facility, under the guise of scientific advancement, humanity’s ethical boundaries were not just crossed – they were obliterated. And now, I was a part of this macabre tapestry, woven with secrets, lies, and the shattered lives of both the innocent and the damned.