Piperidine

Everyone felt it, the day the world heaved. At the time, Subject One hadn’t been sure there was an everyone. The experiment had only known life inside the test centre, had only ever had contact with the speaker. That day, the speaker had said very little. Then, there had been some great shift – tremors, briefly, and a pause for a few minutes before an enormous shuddering ran through the building. The noise of it all was joined by one last message from the speaker. “My hopes have failed. You are the only success.”

Subject One still didn’t know what that meant. The message was followed by doors opening - all of them. Previously, only rooms with tests to be completed had been accessible, but now everything had been unlocked - so Subject One wandered. Walking uncertainly through bland white corridors, devoid of even the sound of machinery that had once filled the air, there was a faint something, somewhere in the distance. Occasional vibrations wormed their way through the ceiling, just barely reaching the ears far too inexperienced for their age. It did reach, though, and it gave Subject One something to look for, so the goal was anywhere leading up.

After some time winding through walkways and scaling up stairs, Subject One found a door unlike any of the previous ones – bigger, seemingly more… final. It hadn’t opened on its own after the last words from the speaker, but upon approach, the two panels slid apart, revealing an unfamiliar landscape. Dark, and dirty, with the metal walls covered in rust. The vibration from before was more audible now, and slight rumbles rattled the building every now and then.

A platform up ahead stood silent and cold, its railings filthy and the raised tablet’s button coated in dust. The cables and steel above the platform were better off, though – the lift would be functional. Subject One stepped on and looked at the button – the writing was faded, but legible. It was labelled ‘Station’. Subject One pressed it, and the platform juddered as it lifted off and began its ascent.

Subject One had never seen a station, and had no idea what to expect of one. The lift stopped at another platform, alone in a wide room overlooking rails and trains. A sole corridor led away from the room, which Subject One chose to follow. It led to a small chamber with a gate leading further on. Next to the gate was some kind of scanner, though for what, the experiment was unsure. It wasn’t particularly high, though, so Subject One simply climbed over it.

“Excuse me!”

A watery voice called out from below – Subject One looked down to see a blue luminescent creature on the floor, blobby in form with stalks protruding from what was presumably its head, judging by the position of the cap set atop it.

“Test obstacles must remain within their given areas.”

Subject One looked quizzically at the speaker. Obstacles? “I’m not an obstacle. I came from down… Further down.”

“Are you…” If it was possible for something with no visible eyes to look you up and down, it seemed like that was what it was doing. “I see. My apologies. However, please do not jump the gates. They are for use with CQ cards, which you should have if you’re here.”

“I… don’t have one.” Hmm. Subject One had rarely had need to speak at the test centre. It might be something to get used to, here, outside.

“Oh. In that case… Hmm. They are normally distributed by the telephone, but its functions seem to have ceased. Come aboard the train and we will work something out, perhaps I can find a spare. Welcome to the Deepsea Metro. I am C. Q. Cumber, the conductor.”

Subject One looked around the new surroundings, a small room just off an area much wider – walking into it, it was a long platform with tracks at its end. In the distance another could be seen, and a train rested on its rails further down the platform. C. Q. Cumber wandered past towards it.

“Things are… in quite a state. I presume you felt the quaking from above?”

Subject One nodded, shortly before realising the conductor likely wouldn’t see from ahead. “Yes.”

“It has… thrown a spanner in the works, so to speak. The lines are undamaged and the trains continue to run, however… I have had no word from my superiors and the telephone has been silent since then. I would fear the communications systems have failed, yet the CQ-80s continue to function as normal. It is… unsettling.”

That was when the speaker stopped, too.

“Usually when a new passenger arrives, they start at Central Station. This is the first time someone has been here. This is the Smash and Dash Station, by the way.”

Subject One followed it onto the train. A variety of other passengers filled its seats, all of varying shapes and sizes. None looked familiar, none like anything shown by the speaker, or akin to any reflections spotted in the test centre. A few of them eyed the stranger in their midst with an unusual expression, almost wary. Most simply looked away again after a brief glance.

“If you have need of me, I will be in the frontmost carriage.” With those parting words, C. Q. Cumber headed up the train and through the next carriage.

Subject One looked down the train cabin at its denizens. Jellyfish in bright shirts and hats, a few fish in suits reading books or newspapers, a large isopod with a briefcase stuffed with plushies. The glasses it wore obscured its gaze, but there was an unmistakable level of scrutiny in it. Subject One stared back. Eventually it beckoned until the experiment approached.

“There is something about you, but… I can’t place it. Ah… I can’t quite remember,” it said, voice low and silty. “Who are you, girl?”

“Girl?”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see. We all forget, down here in the deep.”

“No… I do remember. I just don’t know,” Subject One repeated. The speaker had spoken of many things, but not this. It had only addressed Subject One as… well, ‘Subject One’.

“Do you not know about gender? What about all the people you’ve met? How have you addressed them, how were you introduced?”

“I never met any people.”

The isopod fell silent for a contemplative moment. Something in its unwavering gaze shifted, and its voice took on a softer note. “Have you always been alone?”

“Yes. There was only the speaker.”

“The speaker?”

Subject One nodded. This all was a lot of exercise for the vocal chords, compared to life previously.

“So… My previous question. Allow me to introduce myself first, if it aids. I am Iso Padre. A man, if that means anything to you. Who are you?”

“I’m… Subject One.”

“That is a title. What about a name?”

Subject One pondered for a moment, but could only offer a shake of the head.

“What do you know about yourself?”

Subject One thought, thought on all the things the speaker had said. There was history, and engineering, and arithmetic, and… all sorts of things about the world and everything else, but not about Subject One. Only one tidbit, the smallest scrap of information about the experiment.

“I am a perfected lifeform.”

“Aren’t we all?” he said with a chuckle. “Good to know you’re confident.” He folded his arms, the top pair, the ones that hadn’t been folded already. “So. The question remains unanswered.”

Subject One looked away, looked around, maybe for the elusive answer. It did not show itself.

“What will you do, then, now that you have found a new world filled with others?”

The subject thought solemnly for a while. It was difficult – all this talking all at once, it was quite exhausting. It took a while to find an answer.

“I will look for myself.”

---

The trains ambled around the tracks, and Subject One ambled around the train. Occasionally, the experiment got off to explore a platform, but having no CQ card, it was impossible to get further. C. Q. Cumber had been unable to find any spare cards to offer, and no CQ 80 either.

There was a great deal of uncertainty about what to do. C.Q. Cumber had seemed less and less confident about something, and seemed to compensate by being more and more talkative. It was quite tiring for Subject One, unused to conversation. When the cucumber ceased chattering with Iso Padre, sometimes he turned his attention (Subject One had learned that he was a he, now, too) to the experiment, who soon got off at the next stop regardless of any progress being barred by an inoperable gate. At least the stations tended to be fairly empty, and therefore quiet.

The few on the train that did speak to the experiment had seemingly decided Subject One was a girl. Iso Padre told her that once she found herself, if who she was wasn’t a girl, they could easily change habits, and in the meantime they needed some way of referring to her or other. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about that – being told who she was by a stranger – but she didn’t have much alternative to go on, and once she knew who she was, he had said, they would all soon forget who she wasn’t. The speaker had only ever spoken directly to her, so before now the subject had only been referred to in first person.

The speaker had told her so many things, about seemingly everything, but never about herself. No name. No identity. Her head was filled with so much information, but… There were so many questions now, and amongst everything she knew, none of it contained any answers. It would have probably encouraged those questions. The speaker had always taught her that the pursuit of knowledge was the most important thing. It always seemed pleased when she had asked things before, but those questions had always been turned outwards. She had never thought to look into herself.

The train pulled into a station and Subject One alighted, not particularly caring where it was or what it was called. It didn’t really matter. She couldn’t get past the gates without a CQ card anyway (well, she could, but C. Q. Cumber seemed stressed whenever she tried, the poor chap) so it only provided quiet solitude.

Occasionally she would step onto the equipment platform and pick out one of the options, try it out. She had never held a weapon before now. She had some vague understanding of the theory, and she had worked out that they all functioned with ink. This dispenser offered a choice between a splattershot, a splat roller, or a splat brella. She picked the brella, having not tried one out yet. It spat ink out as she activated it, then opened as she held the trigger. Useful for defence, if necessary, though she didn’t imagine she would be in combat any time soon.

She inked the floor around her, leaving the space around C. Q. Cumber free. The conductor always seemed to follow off the train when she stepped off, though stayed quiet there unless she spoke to him first. Swimming to the edge of the small platform, she looked out beyond the gate. It was quite high up, and she could see most of the test area below. It was a long area filled with containers, and at the near end was a bright shining orb containing something – she couldn’t quite see from up here. At the far end was… A group of four people standing together. Blue and green tentacles fell from their heads, their skin a translucent green.

Subject One stood from her swimming form and raised one of her hands in front of her. The same mint.

They’re like me. 

Subject One ran to the gate and hopped over it, ignoring C. Q. Cumber’s distressed squeaking when he saw what she was doing. Superjumping down to the test area, she ran forwards, ignoring the shining orb and weaving past the containers. An indicator atop one of the nearby storage boxes proved her progress had attracted the attention of one of the people ahead, and they were coming to meet her. She stood below, waiting. As the stranger landed, she was sprayed with ink – they had a splattershot in hand, and they were shooting. At her. The cyan ink fell harmlessly on her skin, however, so she ignored it, for now.

“Who are you?” She looked up, trying to see this stranger’s eyes. They were obscured by dark glasses shining an eerie red light from the corner of the lens.

They ignored her question, frowning. In a brief moment, the end of their tentacles changed, the gradient going from green-yellow to a deep red, and they shot again. The neon purple ink stung harshly as it bit into Subject One’s skin, and she yelped, quickly pulling the trigger on her brella. She pressed herself against the wall of the container, gasping in pain as she aimed the shielding cover above her, trying to protect herself from the raining ink.

Why? What did I do? The canopy of the brella lifted away and dropped off, moving away. “No! No, come back!” The ink falling from above burned her, then it stopped. For a moment she hoped. They had stopped. Then she heard a single word from above.

“Destroy.” A splat bomb dropped next to her.

A feeling of sickness rose in her. She scrambled to run, get away from the impending explosion, but the purple ink impeded her movement. Tears streamed down her face. Why was this happening? She only wanted to know who they were! Who she was!

The warning noise on the bomb neared its end. She couldn’t get away, and she was going to die. A strangled sob escaped her throat as the ink burst from its trappings, spraying her pain-wracked body. She felt it seep past her skin and suddenly she was bursting, exploding past her bounds. Her body was gone, and she was being pulled away. She was so afraid, and something was yanking her back. She fought it but it was too strong, she couldn’t escape, it pulled her back, and back –

Suddenly she had form again. Subject One blinked, looking down. She had a body again. She raised her arms, wondering how that was. Had she imagined that? No, the test platform with its containers stretched forwards in front of her, the shining orb still there. And in the distance, ahead, a visible purple splash of ink. No, that had been real.

Subject One felt bile rise in her throat. Her legs felt weak, and she sank to her knees. She didn’t understand. In the distance, she saw another superjump indicator appear, nearer to her location. Panicking, she scrambled up. She didn’t want to go through that again, ever. She looked behind her, up. The station platform she’d come from was above, she could see it. Taking a deep breath and trying to steady her legs, she superjumped back up to it.

As soon as she landed she ran, leaping back over the gate. She sank to the floor, panting. C. Q. Cumber was soon at her side, squawking something about entering test areas without permission. She ignored him. She couldn’t think about whatever he was saying, not now. She curled up, shaking as she hid her face against her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. C. Q. Cumber quieted next to her.

“…Are you… alright?”

Subject One drew herself in tighter, sobbing. C. Q. Cumber was still beside her for a moment, then extended a tendril to pat her. She flinched at his touch, turning away.

“You’re safe here. No-one will hurt you here on the platform.”

Subject One shook, choking on her ever-growing sobs. She sat and cried, wailing as the tears trailed down from her eyes. C. Q. Cumber seemed to shrink on himself, too, but he stayed at her side. He didn’t speak, and didn’t try to pat her again, but he stayed.

She didn’t know how long she spent curled up crying on the floor, but eventually it subsided. Her eyes ran dry and the sobs died down into hiccups, catching on the lump in her throat. An eternity condensed into a few minutes passed and they too stopped.

“I… I… died there.”

C. Q. Cumber looked up at her – or pointed his frontmost tendrils in the relevant direction – and spoke gently. “The test areas all have a recall system. If you get splatted by any test obstacles, you start again at the beginning.”

“I don’t want to do any of the tests, then.”

“No. No, you don’t have to,” he reassured her. “I think perhaps the Deepsea Metro is not the place for you.”

“…I think so, too.”