In the brightly lit hospital room, a youth lay on white sheets. His brow furrowed and lips pressed together as if straining against something. A weak whimper was muffled by his closed lips. His head tossed to one side and grimaced. His body clenched up and the smooth sheets wrinkled under his movements. He thrashed harder and another whimper was muffled. The frightful expression on the young boy's face would make anyone watching want to hold him in their arms and coax him tenderly.
The door latch clicked. The boy's eyes shot open. His black pupils surrounded by red blood vessels against white looked very frightening.
A young man with apple cheeks entered the room. He glanced at the youth on the bed and showed a tender smile before slowly and cautiously moving to the side of the bed. The young man, a doctor according to his coat, held his tablet tightly in one hand. His facial expression did not show any of the tension his body held.
The youth glanced at the doctor without meeting his eyes. He was pressed against the opposite side of the bed. His eyes shifted all around. He kept his lips pressed tightly together. His eyes paused and his head cocked as if listening to something. The boy glanced at the unmoving doctor again. After another few moments, the youth's tense posture slowly relaxed. His eyes fell to his fists in his lap and he didn't move.
The doctor finally opened his mouth, "Can I ask your name?"
The youth didn't respond. He didn't seem to have heard him.
The doctor tried again, "Can you confirm that your name is Bai Gujing?"
The youth didn't show any sort of response at first. After a second he tilted his head. Slowly, he nodded to confirm.
"Do you know where you are?"
There was no response again.
"Would you like some water?"
Nothing. He tried again.
"Do you know you are at the World Connection Facility?"
This time a long time passed and the youth still did not respond. His head was still tilted, but he did not give the doctor any kind of acknowledgment.
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
The doctor waited again. It felt as if time had stopped. The ticking seconds of the clock was the only movement in the room. Time continued to move forward without a reaction from the youth.
The doctor's smile was still on his face, "Is there anything you would like to tell me?"
The doctor continued asking questions patiently. He left the room almost twenty minutes later without even hearing the boy's voice. He passed the guards at the door and walked down the hall. He went up a flight of stairs and down another hall, turned, and entered a room. It was a meeting hall.
"Come in." a deep voice permitted entry.
The doctor opened the door to reveal a table full of men in suits. The muscular man at the right hand of the head of the table particularly stood out among the many old and wizened gentlemen. The door closed behind the doctor. It opened again a few minutes later as the doctor finished his report and left. All the men inside had serious expressions on.
"Covington, what are your thoughts?" The dapper gentleman at the end of the table turned to a man near the end.
Covington wasn't as elderly as some of the men here yet his hairline already showed signs of receding. His gentle manner was set aside for the meeting as he seriously responded, "It's not unheard of, Sir. We have seen a negative correlation between mental illness and crossings. Unlike others who die in a failed crossing, he may have survived it simply because his brain didn't process it. Unfortunately, there is no test that I know of to confirm whether this is the case or not."
"So there is no way to know if they are a spy or not. This could have been their target all along." said one of the men.
Covington considered it, "It would explain why this group was targeted as opposed to any others. We do not have a large majority of mental illness patients."
"How could they have our intel up to this point? This one was just lucky." Said another man.
"That depends on who their spy is." The muscular man spoke up. He looked up from the papers in front of him. The room turned quiet and they all turned to him. "Send him home. Today."
"So soon? We don't even do that for elite crosser agents."
"What do you mean? You can't let this thing out of our sight! If it is an anti-factionist we would be playing right into their hands!"
"That's ridiculous."
"We should at least observe him for the regular observation period."
All the men on either side of the table spoke up against it.
The man at the head of the table raised a hand. They quieted down. "What do you mean, Mr. Jacqueline?"
"If they are up to something, we need to give them a chance to make a move. We need to give them an opportunity to move to know their motivation for this time's incident and whether or not it will happen again.
"More than that, this patient will not leave our sight if he goes home. We have several crossers there as well as an undercover agent. His family is aware of the crosser program. In fact, they endorse it. We will simply tell their head about the situation and have the others keep an eye on him.
"If he is who he says he is there is no reason to keep him here any longer anyway. He needs better care than we are willing to give him."
The table was silent. They don't give individualized care to patients who arrive at the facility. This is simply because they are just waiting to die. While their treatment isn't inhumane, it is only similar to what one might receive at a hotel. The care is similar and minimal all across the board. This child had likely not had an enjoyable time here. Especially considering his mental state is worse off than that of the average patient. In fact, some of them felt it would be best for the child if there was an anti-factionist in his body. That way the child's soul could move on.
"Either way we need to prepare for what's next." Jacqueline continued, "We don't have the manpower necessary to stave off the next wave."
"Mankind may have another decimation yet."
The room grew cold.