This is a very sketchy science fiction idea I had that I'm not very sure about. Any feedback on it would be appreciated, as well as any advice on how to expand little bits like this (as I have many that never seem to get to more than a page)... Thanks very much
“My rib cage is completely shattered. None of my limbs are broken in less than four places. I only have fifty percent of my skin still attached to my body. My lungs, heart and stomach have all been pierced. And yet I’m still alive; a miracle of modern science. I was one of twenty test subjects for the Methuselah Project, headed up by Professor Robert Calvin.
All of us were convicted criminals of one kind or another. Serial killers, terrorists, gang lords and the like. We were all destined for a little jab. But we were given the chance to be part of something good, something larger than ourselves. Basically, they wanted some f****** guinea pigs and they figured no-one would miss the ones that were going to get put down anyway. We were given the choice. One injection or the other. Death or Methuselah.
The theory behind it is simple. Being alive has always been a shaky concept. It’s only this last century or so that pronouncing someone dead has stopped being a hit and miss affair. Some would define it as being able to think and feel things, being conscious. But that would imply that you die every night. Others would give more down to Earth symptoms of existence such as a beating heart. The people behind Methuselah decided that as long as your brain was functioning, you were alive.
They injected these immortal cells into the brain of rats and induced fusion with their neurons. This meant that the brain cells would never die, provided they had the correct nutrients. Which could, again, be provided via an injection. The intracranial pressure must have been agony for the little mites. I know it was for me.
We saw the rats. They had crushed all but their heads into a pulp, but their tiny little brains were still bleeping away. I was a fool to think that they wouldn’t do the same to us.
After we had the first injection, we were left in isolated luxury for most of the time. We had televisions, all the pornos and sex we wanted and access to the finest food, whilst we could still root and eat, of course. Once a week we were required to participate in resistance sessions. I say required, makes it sound so civil. We were dragged out of our cells and beaten to a pulp. Flesh torn, organs punctured, bones broken. To see how far they could push our new, immortal brains. Doctors were on hand to patch us up afterwards so the fun could begin again the next week.
I was one of the lucky ones. I was only there three weeks before the project got canned. God only knows why. I think the government got a little concerned at the prospect of immortal, invulnerable criminals running around.
Once federal support ran dry, we were just left to die. It was impossible for us to live without our nutritional support, Calvin made sure of that. Or that was what he thought. What they thought.
But I’m still here. My body is beyond function, but I can still think, still feel. All the others died, you see their corpses resting on the ground around me. But for some reason, I survived.
I’ve had a lot of time to mull it over; the Methuselah Project was abandoned in 2006. I think that some sort of mutation occurred in my brain. Something that allowed these immortal cells to function without the regular injections. God must really hate kiddy fiddlers, I’ve been alone and in agony for twenty years.
Hell is real.”
The lady who doth protest too much