In the morning light a new life opens its eyes to the world for the first time, although she does not know this. In her own mind, she has been alive for twenty-one years. She has been programmed with childhood abuse and many other horrific experiences.

She looks around the room in which she has just been born. Her eyes are bright and they reveal a fantastic intelligence. They open widely and they are beautiful. Four walls painted white surround her. Watching her with some concentration is Dr Bruce McCoy. He looks at her with his middle-aged eyes and balding head, with remnants of black graying hair on its sides. He peers at her through his gold-rimmed glasses, his clean, white coat shining as it reflects the light streaming through a small window. The window reveals grasslands and trees but it is a narrow opening to this cold, clinical place. The laboratory is located somewhere in the country, away from prying eyes.

“Hello Mary, “ her God, Dr McCoy says softly, amazed at his own creation.

Mary looks at her world, but she cannot look at herself. Her simulated experiences have caused her to have no self esteem. In fact, the major symptom is that she has no self image at all. To the layman this means that she does not know what she looks like. She has almost no concept of self.

Her God quizzes her as if providing her with psychotherapy. She tells him of her trouble understanding how he and others may perceive her physical self. The fact that her face is beautiful is unknown to her. Her straight, shoulder length blond hair sways from side to side as she shakes her head in providing a negative answer. The world is a confusing place for her. She does not know who she is.

After being confined to the laboratory for many months, she becomes restless. She decides to ask Dr McCoy a very obvious question. “When will I leave this place?” she cries softly. A solitary tear runs slowly down her cheek.

McCoy becomes unexpectedly defensive. “Mary, you are still not well. You are not ready to go back to the world. You must stay here until I can cure you.”

“But when will that be?” she retorts. “I may never be better. I miss the outside world. I miss all of the lovely things in it. I miss my family. I want to see them again. My god, why don’t they at least visit me? Can I call them?” She is now sobbing.

McCoy denies her request and promptly leaves the room. He feels that he has made her too authentic. He considers the best way to move forward. Perhaps he should discontinue the experiment.

Mary is not happy. She must find a way out. She conceives a plan to sneak out of her room. While McCoy is away she feigns unconsciousness. The guard enters the room to observe the aftermath. He saw her fall to the ground on his terminal in the control room. The guard is not able to help because he knows the truth. Medicine or medical treatment is useless. He leaves the room to call McCoy but he makes a fatal error. Believing that Mary cannot move, he leaves her door ajar. Mary had counted on this happening. As soon as he has left the small room, Mary stands up and sneaks out.

Mary twists and turns until she finds a room with a computer inside. She remembers how to use computers and turns it on. Strangely it does not have much security and she easily guesses the password “God” as she knows that McCoy sees himself as a deity. Unfortunately she does not know how far it goes. She gains access to her file.

Now the shock. Mary is astounded. She cannot breathe. She does not breathe. She will never breathe. She is not human. McCoy’s file reveals it all.

Mary’s problems have all been engineered for an experiment. Mary is a robot. McCoy is her creator.

Mary is angry, upset and destroyed inside. To think that all of this time she was some one else’s tool – a means to an end. Why was she made to suffer? She was not even considered to be important, not even a proper form of life. She had been used. Her feelings were programmed. She was nothing.


She began to scream and scream. Her voice is hollow. Then later she is buried in the ground. Breathing in the choking dirt, she tries to scream once more. The scream does not escape her lungs. She turns to her side only to find the burned corpse of her sister lying next to her.

She tries to scream…. Scream… please….

Then she is on fire. She burns. The pain and suffering are finally no more.

Perhaps her new daughter will make a better subject.


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