Those Who Are Fed on Grapes and Cherries

They walked calmly down the aisles of sleeping embryos. Their hands clasped behind their backs and their heads held up in confidence.
They were the “Masters”.

Those who slept in the glass containments, the embryos, were crunched into a small ball, with wires and plastic tubes that exited from all different angles of their peaceful bodies.
They were mere humans.

“So, how are they coming along, Hanford?” asked a rather large man who wore a moustache and a business suit.

“Quite well, sir,” replied a slightly deranged young man whose back was arched and wore a stained, white lab coat. “However,” he continued. “Some problems have occurred with only a handful of subjects, sir.”

“Problems?” repeated the large man. The younger man nodded and gestured to a large metallic door that ended the aisle. They proceeded.

The two men stood in front of the door and waited patiently.
A faint blue line slid up and down their figures and beeped at the end of the process.

“Profile,” demanded a metallic voice that echoed around the room. There was an awkward pause for a moment.

“Professor Seymour Hanford. Leading director of the current ‘A.I. Project’ in Mangrate’s Laboratory of Special Investigations. Blood type; AB-,” answered the young man. The larger man looked down at Hanford in confusion, and then directed his gaze back up at the door. He coughed nervously.

“Erm, Mr. Michael Thomas. Leading supervisor in the actions of Mangrate’s Laboratory of Special Investigations. Assisting director in the current ‘A.I. Project’. Blood type; B,” followed the larger man.

There was another long, awkward pause after the men’s replies.

“Access granted for both participants,” assured the metallic voice. A cloud of steam began to seep out from the edges of the door and hide from view the door, however, the noises that were heard were evident that the door was in some form of motion. The steam faded to reveal an archway that led into a dull, blue-lit room.

Hanford gestured for Thomas to wait. He stepped forward and immediately, the room was illuminated by a blinding light.
The light was also accompanied by high pitched shrieks that echoed throughout.

Thomas stood aghast.

The room was filled with at least fifty or more glass containments. However, within these containments were animalistic humans that screeched and clawed at their window.
A mere freak show for the observers to record their own personal observations and calculations.

Also, a noticeable observation was the tags or labels that were positioned at the bottom of each glass container.
Each label read the name of each subject, along with personal information including date of birth, blood type, and also two pictures of the subject labelled “Before” and “After”.

Thomas gagged and clasped his hand over his mouth. He was never known for his emotions to interfere with his work, but this specific scene made his stomach churn wildly.

“There’s a bin over there,” addressed Hanford, pointing to a bin next to the door.
Immediately, Thomas hurried over to the small, tin cylinder and the noises of his desperate hurling and then the wet plop of his excrements hitting the bottom of the bin.

Hanford chuckled silently.
He was all too familiar with this scene to be sickened any further. He was the leader of the entire experiment, so he had to prepare himself, somehow, to cope with anything that may possibly go wrong. And the thing was, something did, so he was prepared.
He did, however, recall his first impression when the very first subject failed; he did not take it well.
He remembered the putrid face of the subject; once a bright, rosy-cheeked, a head of hair of the richest auburn and the most beautiful smile, had been transferred into a raven-haired, pale-faced monster with jet black eyes.

And the noise…

Thomas stood once again by Hanford’s side. He looked somewhat paler than before, but what was to be expected of a human that saw another human that seemed dehumanised?
It all seemed to be in sequence for Hanford.

Thomas tried to speak, but the words seemed to be choked up in his over-sized throat. Whispers sounded from his mouth, but nothing more.

“Was it not what you were expecting, sir?” asked Hanford, trying desperately to hide his grin. The reason for his grin was unknown, but it was one of those expressions that humans do when they try to hide their proud smiles when they receive an award for their achievements

Thomas slowly turned his gaze down to Hanford, wide-eyed in surprise and disgust.

“Not what I expected?” screeched Thomas. “And what, exactly was I to expect, Mr. Hanford?”

Hanford shrugged. For all he knew, Thomas could have expected an array of different visuals; each one more or less gruesome than the one before.

“Different people expect different things, Mr. Thomas,” replied Hanford in a subtle-patronising tone. Thomas glared at the scientist. Hanford shrugged again.

There was an awkward silence between the pair, except for the constant shrieking of the disfigured test subjects caged behind glass.

“Shall we continue on with the tour?” asked Hanford finally, gesturing down the remainder of the aisle. Thomas gulped loudly, and eventually nodded. “Then let us proceed.”

Shakily, Thomas stepped on behind Hanford, trying desperately to ignore the images and noises on either side of him. In front, Hanford stared blankly ahead.

Suddenly, Hanford’s hand went up, gesturing for all movement to cease. He stood silent and motionless for a moment.

“What is it?” asked Thomas inquisitively, looking around as if waiting for something to pop out and begin gnawing on his helpless body.
In one swift movement, Hanford spun on his heel to face the left and began to wander towards one of the containments.

At that moment, Thomas’ heart was in his mouth. He did not feel comfortable being left alone in this area, especially when his guide was heading straight for the source of his fear.
However, to Thomas’ greatest surprise, the subject within the glass containment was unlike the others.

It was a girl; more or less a young woman. Her approximate age was about eighteen to twenty or so years. She wore a long, however dirty and tatty nightgown that stretched down to her ankles and sleeves that sat on her elbows. Her skin was pale, however, not as pale as the others; recognised as a distressed or cold pale. She sat against the wall with her head tucked into her legs, her slender arms huddling her legs, and her long auburn hair draping down to the floor.

Hanford placed one hand delicately against the glass and tapped the glass with a knuckle on his other hand.

“Arlene,” he called softly. “Arlene, my sweet.” The girl’s head shot up and she immediately lunged at the glass, slamming her hands up against the barrier.

“Seymour! Please get me out of here!” she begged. As she spoke, her nails scratched desperately against the glass. Hanford gently raised a finger to his lips, signalling for silence.

“Soon, Arlene. Soon.” Tears began to seep out of the girl’s bloodshot eyes, trickling down her cheeks and to her chin. She lowered her head in exhaustion.

“I’m so tired and scared,” she whimpered.

“I know.”

“And hungry!”

“Do you require more cherries?”

“No.” Hanford cocked is head to one side in confusion.

“More than cherries?”

“Yes.”

“What then?”

There was a long, awkward pause as the girl forced herself to think of what she wanted.
It then came to her.

“A platter of fruit.”

Hanford smiled politely and nodded in reply. Before he left, Hanford leant in and pressed his lips up against the glass. The girl responded by doing the same.

The girl stood for a while as she watched Hanford continue with Thomas to the end of the aisle and then disappear from sight entirely after entering through a doorway, which shut behind them.
She realised, once again, that she was alone, and the only noises that were able to be heard were those made by those entrapped in their prisons. She lifted a hand level to her eyes and observed that it shook from side to side like a leaf that was fluttering to the ground. She slammed her hand by her side.

“Help… me…” she whispered to herself. Within seconds, the girl found herself stepping back nervously until her heels and back hit the wall. As soon as she touched the surface, she began to burst out frightened and anxious screams.

Behind the closed door, both Thomas and Hanford sat at a desk. There had been silence between the two ever since they entered the room. Both were unsure what to say to one another.
Thomas coughed every now and then, but only to break the eerie silence. However, he preferred being in the silence than to hear the noises made from the creatures that lay just outside the door.

“You’ve been wanting to ask or speak for some time now,” said Hanford suddenly, breaking the long and dreadful silence. Thomas nodded in reply. “About the girl?”
Again, Thomas nodded, but in a more shameful fashion this time. He looked up at Hanford and narrowed his eyes inquisitively as well as confusion. He then directed his gaze back down to his hands that were clasped lazily within one another.

“She was not like the others,” he stated quietly.

“No,” replied Hanford.

Thomas looked up again. “Why?”

Hanford heaved a great, depressing sigh. He reached down behind the desk and fiddled with the lock on a cabinet. There was a click and immediately, the scientist swung open the door to reveal patterned glass bottles that were filled with an array of different liquids; either dark, light or see-through in colour.
He wrapped his delicate fingers around the neck of one of the darker coloured liquor bottles and presented it on the surface of the desk. He also removed two small glasses which he placed next to the bottle.
Hanford removed the cork with a firm twist and allowed the liquid to seep out into the one glass, and then proceeded with the other.
After pouring the beverages into their containments, he resealed the bottle with the cork with one firm shove, and then replaced the bottle exactly where he had removed it before.

“Drink, my friend,” insisted Hanford lifting one of the glasses to his nose, sniffed, and then followed by sipping at the liquid.

“No need for a toast?” asked Thomas, surprised. Hanford shook his head with the glass at his lips.

“A toast to what?” he mocked after sipping and then bringing the glass away from his lapping tongue. Thomas waited a moment, shrugged and began to stare down at the concoction. It was a dull brown and smelt like bourbon. He rolled the liquid around delicately in its glass and finally, holding his breath, brought the glass to his lips and sipped.
It left a surprising tingly sensation on the tip and the back of his tongue. It burnt to begin with and then soothed into sweet taste which left both men flicking his tongue against his lips to extract the remaining flavour. Both, then, sipped again until all the liquid had vanished.

“Good, isn’t it?” asked Hanford with a cheeky smile. Thomas nodded excitedly in reply.

“What is it?” inquired Thomas.

“My own brew,” stated the scientist proudly. “I call it ‘Hanford’s.”

“Original,” Thomas muttered sarcastically in reply. The scientist’s smile dropped and formed into a scowl directed at the large man. Thomas smiled innocently, showing he intended no harm.
Hanford laid his hands flat on the desk and hoisted himself from his chair. Thomas began to follow the movements, but was gestured to stay seated.

“Excuse me,” Hanford began. “My services are required somewhere else for a moment. I shall return soon.” With those words, he left through a door located on the wall behind the desk. It slid open and Hanford vanished behind the walls, with the doors shutting immediately behind him.
Thomas was left, once again, on his own. He had realised, however, that the shrieking from the creatures outside has ceased. It was pure silence now.

Thomas began surveying the office. It was a bright, pale white. The lights were blinding to even look at, and the heat they let out left Thomas sweating. The objects, as well as the furniture, were carefully polished steel that gleamed under the artificial light.
On top of the silver surface of the desk sat writing implements, sketches, written records, and also… a photo frame?
Thomas looked around suspiciously to find if any hidden cameras or security items to record his next movements. When he was certain there were none, Thomas snatched the object off the desk and ran his eyes over the picture.
The photo showed a much happier Hanford with his hand wrapped around an auburn-haired girl who had the biggest, whitest smile. They both clutched a baby; a baby girl.
Thomas forced himself to inquire his own personal beliefs on the photo.
And then… it clicked…

Meanwhile, in the room behind the office, Hanford was stacking up a trolley full of meat, and one special platter of fruit that he covered with a cloth. He pushed the trolley down a narrow hallway, which was furnished with small flaps.

“Feeding time,” sighed Hanford as he reached for the first two chunks of meat, and then threw them into the first flap. The meat made a wet slap when it hit the ground, followed by the noise of excited shrieking from the animalistic creature from within the cage. It growled pleasantly as it imbedded its teeth into the soft meat and tore off a chunk to swallow.
The scientist continued with this procedure all the way down the hall, until he finished, and then proceeded to the other hall on the other side. He completed serving the meat, and then, it was time to serve the fruit.
He picked up the fruit platter, and with his free hand, tapped on the wall space next to the flap with his knuckle.

“Arlene,” he called gently. There was silence for a moment, but was followed then by a loud thud against the wall and scared whimpering. A smile spread across the scientist’s face.