Two Months Earlier,
For some pain is a kind of death.
It strips them of their dignity and eats away at their soul. It never stops because it is ravenous and evil at its core.
Today, the third trial had begun to quell such a pain.
The rooms inside Banfield Laboratories—six in all—were a cold grey, built with thick concrete on three sides and a glass wall for viewing by the group of scientists and two others who had dialed in remotely, shielded by blacked-out Tron monitors.
Inside each room was a hospital bed with various medical equipment at its side. And within those rooms were two medical assistants and their test subjects.
The subjects were willing volunteers, under the vices of testing a harmless drug, much like any other common pain reliever already on the market, to take away even the most excruciating pain that could ever be imagined. Suffice it to say, all the subjects had one thing in common—they were all suffering, whether real or imagined.
In one of the rooms the subject, an elderly woman, looked up at her med-tech as the tech was actively connecting her to various apparatus in preparation for the infiltration of the drug, “This is going to work, right?” she asked, hoping. No. Praying that this drug would eliminate her pain from her incurable rheumatoid arthritis.
In another room, a man suffering from chronic pain, a result of an accident he’d suffered years before, said to his tech, “This is going to work; I can feel it.”
All the subjects had some sort of preconceived notion or another that this miracle drug would save them from their suffering.
The subjects were broken up into two groups; the first was the controlled group, made up of three people, where they’d received a simple liquid made with water and a blue, food dye; the second was given the actual drug.
The drug had been administered to all subjects. Now, they waited. The entire laboratory was silent as the minutes ticked by.
The subjects had begun to feel the effects of the drug. First, there was a warmth spiraling through every vein, every muscle, every neuron in their bodies. It felt good, exhibited by the relaxed, pleasurable look on their faces.
Day one was a success.
It was day two of the trial. The procedures of day one were repeated.
Somewhere between days three and four, the effects of the drug had started to wane.
On day five the scientists increased the dosages. And just as in the previous days, that new dosage worked for a few days before it had begun to weaken. And, of course, they’d once again increased the dosage.
It was day ten. All the subjects had received their new dosages.
The laboratory was silent as the minutes ticked by, and then….
The lead scientist looked up at the darkened Tron monitors, smiled, and said, “It is ready.”
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