I am a doctor at the Manhattan Psychiatric Center and recently had a case that’s been both puzzling and disturbing.
On the 12th of September, the cops brought in a man who was convinced he was from the future. They said he appeared in Times Square, ranting and raving about a future dystopia, where a tyrannical government keeps the population under sway by releasing zombie-like individuals into the general population, once a day, every day.
The man was undergoing some manic episode, and it took five large orderlies to restrain him—three of which had big black eyes afterwards. Even under sedation, the man kept moaning about microchips and repeating over and over that they were coming for him.
Of course, we didn’t think anything of it, since we see people like him all the time. But once the man was asleep, a nurse came to me and said he had strange lumps underneath his wrists.
I investigated to find the skin swollen and the markings of stitches in a rectangular pattern. Suspecting it to be a drug implant, I performed a small surgical operation to remove the implants from underneath the wrists.
What I found, however, can only be described as a flat shine piece of metal. It didn’t look like a “microchip”, but it made me wonder how it ended up in his body. Anyway, I sent it off to the laboratory for further inspection and thought that was the end of things, until later that day the nurse brought me a tattered piece of paper she had found in the man’s pockets.
It appeared to be some sort of propaganda poster, describing a set of “rules”. I remember reading it and shamefully laughing. Yes, it was disappointing on my part as a practitioner, but you have to understand that here at the hospital we are under considerable strain due to underfunding and an influx of patients. I told the nurse not to worry about it and I would assess the man in the morning. For now, he could be kept under restraint in our “safe room”.
The safe room is the place you put the most volatile patients; a windowless enclosure located on our maximum security wing. Theoretically you can escape, providing you can drill through four feet of reinforced concrete, or turn into a mouse and slip underneath a crack in the iron door.
You must consider my shock, therefore, when I found the room empty the next day. The man had vanished. Evaporated into thin air. My first reaction was disbelief—then panic, as we informed all New York police departments of a missing patient. The night guard was even more shocked, swearing he saw no one, and arguing that no one could possibly have undid the straps, breakout, and get past the locked doors with him on duty. No one.
Yet where was he?
It was the most mysterious breakout and later on when I sat in my office, I got out that poster again and re-read the faded writing. I didn’t laugh this time, and went cold when I read the date written at the bottom. September, 2084.
Below is a transcript of the poster:
The infected are released every day at 1200 hrs for exactly 60 minutes.
At 1300 hrs, all infected are terminated by implanted microchips.
Recently infected members of the public will be tracked by AI drones and rounded up by the National Guard. You ARE NOT to terminate infected after 1300 hrs. Any acts may be punishable by death or deportation to labor camps.
If in the rare case an infection takes place after hours, the family of the deceased are eligible for compensation. To apply, go to www.usgovtherelease.us
Daily safe zones will be announced at 1000 hrs on the government state news channel.
Between 1200 - 1300 hrs, you have the right to bear arms, but any crimes committed against the general public may be punishable by death.
NO release shall take place on Elder public holidays.
Anyone using the release hour to participate in propaganda activities or meetings will be executed and their families deported to labor camp.
Anyone found in possession of a vaccine will be publicly hanged.
Certain neighborhoods are exempt from the release.
Remember we do this for your own good. And remember WE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING YOU.
To add further fuel to the mystery, the laboratory contacted me yesterday about the metal pieces I had sent off. They said there had been a security breach and several samples were stolen—including my own.
It felt too much of a coincidence for it to be true…
What do you think happened?