"You are worth more to them dead than alive, and since you're already officially dead, they don't view it as murder. The chip activated, it works, and data streams onto the computers. Two weeks of data would keep them occupied for years."

She offered Christen more water, and despite herself, thirst drove her to drain the glass she could now hold herself.

"The girl who died beside the road that day, and the woman lying in this bed, aren't even the same species. As is, the only reason we're even having this conversation is due to the interest the Department of Defense showed in your possible capabilities.

"The four survivors of the other experiments all gained unique gifts, but at a price. Sylvian can turn invisible for an hour or two, but afterward, she becomes weak, almost helpless, for twenty minutes or so before recovering.

"Cole has this super strength, but he's volatile, unpredictable, and a danger to others.

"Robyn has super hearing, which is very neat, but unexpected loud sounds give her headaches or nosebleeds or knocks her out.

"Thorton is very strong but not as strong as Cole. His eyesight is remarkable, his hearing great, and he is altogether superhuman, but not in the way we thought he'd be. Although slow to anger, if he gets angry, he goes into this state where he does things he can't afterward remember. Last time he killed someone," Strickland revealed.

"I thought you said that what I am impossible to replicate?" Christen asked, shocked.

"They are nothing like you. The Department of Defense wants to know what you can do and what happens if you use your gifts. You are far less human than they are."

Strickland hesitated as she worked through this information that blew her mind.

"Are you ready to bring the chip fully online now, or should we wait until tomorrow?" the doctor asked.

"What will happen?" Christen asked.

"You'll have full control of your body and some perks, but it won't be pleasant. The quicker we activate it, the faster you can learn to adjust and the less likely you'll be dissected. But if you need more time, I will give it to you. I'm going to bring the chip fully online now," Strickland warned.

Again, she almost bowed off the bed in pain. She thought her brain would explode for a second, and then this rolling series of blue numbers appeared like the HUD on Supergirl's anti-kryptonite suite, but she wasn't wearing any vizor.

What she saw appeared on a second screen on the monitor wall, and it took only a second for her to realize that it was a real-time link and that these people would view everything she did.

Always.

The HUD settled into readable displays, and when she glanced at the one marked Personal file, her entire history opened to her.

It showed on the HUD, but the information was embedded into her brain at a glance. She closed the file and opened another out of curiosity.

Alexander.

She absorbed everything in that file in an instant.

"Photographic memory, that's new and neat," Strickland marveled, and Christen glanced at her. "Monkey see, monkey do. I can teach you advanced match with the push of a button," Strickland said and did just that.

"Combat," she added, and the massive amount of information seared into her brain like a heated stream of white light.

She tensed against the unexpected pain, and something tickled her nose before leaking from her left nostril.

Strickland stopped the feed, but everything that had entered her mind was available at a thought. A mild headache and nausea remained as a reminder that her new gift had limitations.

"I was born with a photographic memory," Christen corrected, her jaw slightly tight from biting so hard on her teeth.

"Your file doesn't mention that," the doctor said, quickly scrolling through the information.

"It wasn't something I advertised. My twin wasn't impressed and said it was as good as cheating. When I got older, I told my mom I had outgrown it, and she believed me. Anna did not.

"She didn't like me doing better at school than her either because my memory gave me an unfair advantage, so no matter what I achieved, it didn't matter because I cheated."

Why did she never realize how much that hurt?

"So you always ensured that your grades and hers were about the same?" Strickland asked, frowning at her iPad.

"Yes." Why did that sound so stupid now when she only did it so her twin wouldn't feel bad? "But my memory was not like this."

"Let's try it again but more slowly and with less information at a time," the doctor said as she reached out to wipe the blood from Christen's face with a moist towelette after donning gloves and disposed of both the gloves and the tissue in the biohazard container.

The files finished loading more slowly.

"Do you still experience pain?" Strickland asked, and she nodded; the headache had also increased in intensity.

The price thing was real.

"Okay, that's enough of that for today. Now I am going to turn on your sense of feeling all the way, and this might hurt," Strickland warned, and Christen screamed.

Moments later, she vomited into a trashcan Strickland held out to her as if she expected this reaction.

Her skin had become sensitive to the fabric of her hospital gown, the sheets on the bed, the gentle flow of air from the air-con, and she sensed Strickland's body heat from almost three feet away.

Strickland didn't give her a moment to adjust as she pushed another button.

Her eyesight altered as if the world's colors had always been dimmed, and she peered into the darkness beyond her bed.

Every sound was heightened, every smell elevated, and the taste of her vomit nearly made her gag.

It was as if Alexander helped her cope and adjust like a parent teaching their child how to adapt to the world, but at a speed that defied reason.

The others didn't have this link, so adjusting must have been tricky.

"Good boy Alexander," Strickland said, and he seemed to see her through the monitor, except he didn't see the doctor through the monitor but through her.

Thinking about it, she could suddenly see inside his enclosure, and the image showed on the monitor.

"Remarkable," Strickland murmured to herself, and Christen grinned at her, tired yet feeling less discouraged and alone.

"Alexander's happy now that he isn't alone anymore. He's just sorry he hurt me," she said, and a frown wrinkled the scientist's brow.

"Does he speak to you?" Strickland asked, and Christen considered the question for a moment. "Not in words, but I understand him on a more basic level."

Strickland pushed another button, and the leash was gone. She could move and grasped the left side of the bed, which bent under her hand.

"Whoah, this is like that first episode of The Bionic Woman," she marveled, gentling her grip as she fixed the damage as best she could.

Strickland handed her a pen, and it didn't break in her grip.

Alexander's pride made her grin, and she forgot the circumstances that brought her there for a few moments.

As if his work was done, Alexander moved over to his sleeping enclosure and, like a big old dog, turned around and around before settling himself on his bed of leaves and sighed, promptly falling asleep.

Christen's smile faltered, and although everything seemed magical and too good to be true, what did it mean? She wasn't human, and Strickland didn't even want her bright red blood to touch her skin.

Even though she was alive, she didn't belong anywhere, and she was nothing more than an experiment that belonged to whoever Strickland worked for.

She was a lab animal. Her hands fisted, but the doctor didn't notice as she altered something on her iPad.