Azur Lane - Crackhead's Paradise

Week XXV

First the experiments.

Then the humans.

That's usually how I see things. Or at least how I try.

HERE IS A COMFORTING FACT
You are going to die.

I am in all honesty trying to be cheerful about this. Though most people find themselves not believing that, trust me when I say I'm definitely trying to be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.

A GENERAL RULE OF THUMB
Accept the inevitable.

I kindly ask that you don't be afraid. I am gentle in my profession and my work is the upmost of delicacy.

I should introduce myself, correct?

Well, should I? I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. The public will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. At some point in time you could be facing me as I gently give your life purpose for my own benefits.

The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? It's tricky, isn't it?

Personally, I like red. Dark, dark crimson red. People say it suits me. Some say it's unusual. I do, however, try to enjoy every color I see — the whole rainbow clouds. I see them as flavors. Not too sweet or salty, but everyone has their own color that taste just right to them. For me, that's red.

As I've been trying to say, my one saving grace are patients and experiments. It keeps me sane. It helps me cope, considering the length of time I've been performing this job. The trouble is, who could ever replace me? Will I ever have a predecessor or protege to take my steed? To your surprise, and mine, the answer is nobody. Needless to say, I think that's why I take my job very seriously.

Still, it's possible that you might be asking, what does he need distraction from? What makes me want to take my job seriously? It's the survivors.

The survivors.

They're the ones I can't stand to look at. Although I fail at my duties on a few occasions I deliberately seek out to keep my mind off them, but even then I find myself looking at them drowning among the waves of realization, despair, and trauma. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs. Their skins rough and stained with red. Their own red color.

Which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight, or today, or whatever the hour. It's the story of one of those perpetual survivors.

It's just a small story really about, among other things:

• A doctor

• Some words

• A fantasy world

• Some mental asylum

• A man losing his sanity and memories

• And quite a lot of existential crisis'

I've read the book three times.

Isn't that a wonder?

I pardon with my wordings. As kind as I portray myself, some would label me, myself, a monster in their eyes.

HERE IS A LITTLE REMINDER
Death will hurt a lot.

Many will fear this. There isn't a purpose to deny such reminder, for it is the truth and truth alone. I, for one, do not fiddle with the fears of it, and I will not deny I've danced around earth before because I have on several occasions with others.

It brings me to my next point, which off puts my patients.

HERE IS ANOTHER REMINDER
I control your life. I can kill you.

To lay your life to another is one way to dance with death. I once again ask that you do not be afraid of this. As said before, I'm skilled in my profession and my work is the up most delicacy. Unfortunately, my work always involves death, and as such I do must warn my patients:

It will kill you. And I will not care.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

My name is Jack

Today, I'm not visiting my Doctor.

I haven't visited him in a while now

I don't because he's in my home right now. He's tied up in my basement as I speak.

He doesn't talk much. In fact all I hear are his muffled screams, which deeply annoyed me for months on end.

Because of that, I killed him.

I'm not insane, you are.

I sighed as I curled into a tight ball. Every part of the room was padded in white, minus the ceiling that was made of concrete which no one bothered to paint.

I felt hot tears pour down my cheek as the screams and sobbing of my neighbors filled my ears.

Please, make it stop.

"Do you know who I am?"

I stared at the bespectacled, grey-haired man in confusion.

"You're...." I absentmindedly trailed off, unsure of his name.

"As expected." He sighed. "My name is Dr. Erik Einswald. I am the head of this facility."

I tilted my head in understanding. I vaguely remember him, but his face was all jumbled in my head. What was I doing yesterday? Something happened earlier but... I can't remember it.

"I want to apologize to you for... what happened the other day. Your caretaker's actions were out of line, and she has been removed from her position." Dr. Einswald leaned forward slightly. "Do you understand, Mr. Heinswald?"

I just stared back, blankly. I wasn't sure of what to make out of the situation. What really happened that day?

Once more, he sighed before opening a folder in front of him. "We can't help you get better until you come to terms with what you... have done."

His voice sounded terrified. Why have I done that it shook him deeply? He began to pull out photos in black and white, shifting them across the table so I could see them. I was disturbed by the contents:

Mutilated corpses. Barely recognizable as their eyes were gouged out and placed in liquid jars. Their skins were burnt, presumably from acid or something similar to its effects. What caught my eye was the picture with a clear, cubical cube that shone a bright blue color. It was enticing... it was beautiful.

"Do you know what you did to these people?"

I don't know what I did to these people. Nor did I care.

I wanted to know what that cube was.