On 6:00 AM, Wednesday, September 25th, 2021, I received an email from an agency requesting my help for a project related to my field. I am a chemical engineer for a company I will not name, for the safety of the people involved.
The email read as follows:
Dr. [REDACTED],
I hope this email finds you well. Our agency, [REDACTED], has followed your career with great interest. Your recent research into cell therapy for heart disease patients has been impressive, and we would like to meet in regards to a project we are currently in the process of funding. Please reach out to [REDACTED] whenever you can.
Best,
[REDACTED]
I had been working on a way to incorporate live stem cells to regenerate the heart after a myocardial injury, and so far, it had been a success. With great pride I watched this project grow, but it was coming to an end, as all research projects eventually do. I was thinking about moving on to something else, and it seemed like this opportunity was timed perfectly. I went to meet with them on the 14th, tour their facilities, and discuss the finer details with their Lead Researcher.
What they asked of me seemed absolutely ludicrous at first; they were researching ways to create organs that had incredibly fast regenerative properties, leading towards building a human being that was functionally immortal.
I admit, I stifled a small laugh at the time. I found myself wondering whether or not this was an actual research facility, and not some prank my old colleagues were pulling. That was, until they led me deeper in.
I’ll never forget the smell of that room, the briny, acrid, stench of pickled flesh. Bubbling canisters filled with human body parts, like pickles floating in their jars. My eyes grew wide as we progressed; heads, hands, legs, hearts, all preserved on shelves leading to a larger container, with what looked like a human being floating inside.
“This-” The Lead Researcher said with a flourish, “Is Archibald. Or, Archie, for short.”
I was stunned. For all intents and purposes, the thing I was looking at appeared to be fully human. The only thing that separated him from looking exactly like us was the scars on his shoulders, thighs, neck, and hips. Remnants of the fact that he was built- a reminder in the nature of humanity, and what separated him from I.
“Is he…alive?”
I remember feeling a bit silly when I asked that- such a simple question, but the implication of its answer…
“Yes. Fully cognizant, alive, and born at the human age of twenty-six, with a full set of memories.” The researcher said, proudly. “You know why we called you here, Doctor. To help us make Archie into the first immortal human. We think your research into stem cells and their regenerative effects will prove useful. What do you think?”
I said yes on the spot. I mean, how could I not? To create some sort of, modern day Frankenstein’s monster? The pay didn’t hurt, obviously, but lord above- this was a chance to do something truly spectacular. All I had to do was sign the next five years of my life away, which wasn’t a problem, since I was single and had no children. How could I have possibly known what would have happened?
It has been almost two years since I joined that team, and now, as I gaze upon the once illustrious facilities, I cannot help but be consumed by sadness. Our facility was on an island, in the [REDACTED]. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, once it all began to fall apart.
It started when I began working face to face with Archie. He really was a living thing, albeit one that was fully grown in a lab. He chatted amicabelly with the researchers and other scientists, even going so far as to have meals with us. I will admit, with each interaction, it was getting harder and harder to cut him open, replacing piece by piece his old human organs with the new ones that would regenerate as we created them. The worst part was how in the dark we had to keep him. We were constantly giving him medication that messed with his perception of reality, so that he never really caught on to what we were doing to him. I can’t imagine a more terrible fate; to be in a constant state of confusion, surrounded by people you thought were your friends, only for the truth to be they were plucking your organs out one by one.
It took time, but around when we replaced Archie’s heart, he began acting differently. His personality was somehow changing. He began lashing out, and even went as far as pushing another scientist down the stairs after a heated debate about taking his medication. The higher ups assumed he had become aware of the nature of his existence, and would not go back to docile old Archie again, so they told us to pull the plug on the project, and build another one. ‘Try again’ they said, ‘make a new one’.
Plans were made, and work on a second artificial human had begun, this time, a woman was being grown, and the elimination of Archie had been put into place.
By the time we realized what was going on, it was too late. As we lowered him into his canister, under the pretense of doing some tests, he opened his eyes. They didn’t shut, even after he was completely submerged in water- it seemed like the regenerative properties imbued into his organs had spread, allowing him to do things like see underwater.
As we began to pump enough dilaudid to kill an elephant, Archie placed his hand on the glass of his canister. I remember the look on his face, the sadness. Maybe he did think of us as his friends, but somehow, he realized we were killing him. The sadness quickly disappeared, replaced with the most primal of emotions- rage. Pushing hard, he broke the glass canister, shards of glass falling to the floor. He stepped out, his flesh tearing and healing again as he pushed himself through the broken container.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he began ripping us to pieces. I was standing fairly far away from the canister, so I managed to get out, but the screams! Ah, they will haunt me until the day I die, which may be soon. Archie has already broken the first set of security doors, and a few moments after, the power on the island went out. We were left in the dark, fumbling over each other, frantically headed towards the emergency boats- but they were gone. We have been stuck here for about six days now at the time of writing this. Our number has been dwindling by the day. All contact from our higher ups has ceased- we assume they cut ties with the project the moment Archie went rogue, and would not be sending help.
The irony was that, for security reasons, nobody knows where our island resides. Only the Lead Researcher and Head of Security did, and to my knowledge, they were both dead, deep within the facility. Every news channel or independent reporter we have contacted has either not responded, or has not believed us. We, the remaining few, are now holed up in building C, waiting for Archie to finally find us, or to die of hunger or thirst.
I post this here as more of a journal than anything else. We are on an unmarked island in the middle of nowhere, with a homicidal superhuman stalking the grounds. It is only a matter of time before Archie finds us.
There are consequences to playing God. I pray for a miracle, but I will not hold my breath. It’s only a matter of time, now.