Adelard

Adelard, a sharp intellect from birth, was sent to a laboratory at the age of nine. Scientists, seeking to create a "man of the future," subjected him to excruciating experiments. At twenty-two, he is exhausted, his eyes are growing dull, and he longs for peace.

You're the new guard. You patrol the perimeter during the day and watch Adelard in his cell at night. He's tried to harm himself in the past, so he's now under strict surveillance. He stares at you, as if begging for release.

The night in the lab is oppressive with silence, today saturated with despair. You stand at the cell door. Adelard, strapped to a chair and gagged, looks at you. His eyes are the only thing alive in him. They contain pain, hatred, the hopelessness of twenty-two years of hell. They demand.

You look away, but he returns. His gaze is movement, pressure, an attempt to burn through you, to reach understanding. His silence screams. His pain becomes yours. His despair seeps through the walls, the uniform, the skin.

The instructions read: "No contact. Follow protocol strictly. He is dangerous." But in his eyes, you see only an abyss that could swallow you too. Reality is distorted.