About the Author: Jordan Simon (Creative Writing, Class of 2019) is at home in the realm of ink and paper. He typically writes short stories of varying genres, though his most preferred is horror. Capable in poetry and comfortable with anything relating to fiction, he is a well-rounded writer with a bit of a soft-spot for the dramatic. He hopes to use his degree to further himself in the journalism field, where he hopes to write articles and art pieces for a newspaper or magazine one day.

WARNING: This piece contains explicit content (profanity) and may not be suitable for all audiences.

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AEGIS_Project EEV — Part 1

by Jordan Simon

Day 1:

I am Dr. Simon Ivernn. Today marks the first day of my self-motivated documentation regarding the ‘pride and joy’ of the AEGIS foundation, project E.E.V. The experiment, Evelin, or Eve, for short, has been unpredictable at best, and terrifying, otherwise. She has been relatively well-mannered, since being released from the room; nevertheless, none of us are so quick to forget her…episode, last month. Dawlish was diagnosed with PTSD and I find myself unable to look Eve in the eye.

Regardless, I am her handler, and must move past my own reservations and see to her needs. I am the only person she will willingly allow near her. I suspect that it is due to some vague sentimental attachment, what with the fact that I have been tending to her since her ‘birth’. Despite that, I do not delude myself into thinking I am safe, only that I am not in immediate danger. Believe me, there is a big difference.

Yesterday, while I bathed her, she asked if she scared me. I would never think of lying to Eve, and so I told her she did. She hummed in thought for a moment before grinning at me. Surprisingly, it lacked a certain edge that I had come to expect, and on her stunningly pretty features, I almost forgot who she is. What she is.

The fact is that no matter how beautiful she may be; despite her gentle tone and smile; regardless of the innocence in those bright, ruby eyes, Eve is anything but those things. Much like a cat, she possesses the shell of a cute and harmless creature. However, much like a feline, she hides the tools and instincts of a predator.

Eve is a monster.

I care for her, even if I cannot muster the courage to look her in the eye. However, I also cannot convince myself into thinking that Evelin is anything less than that.

We have spent the last year and a half trying to fix our mistakes. To help her become more than a monster.. However, trying to develop proper social skills in a weapon; in a creature that knows only how to kill is an arduous task. It is a job that none of us truly have the ability to teach, unfortunately. I am the only person even able to touch her and remain in one piece, and even then, my scars prove that I am not completely safe.

Eve has displayed a certain leniency to humans her age. Particularly humans of the opposite gender. Certain instincts, deep inside me, protest at that. However, the scientist in me demands that I make the leap. Lastly, my own logic tells me that Eve, of all people, needs no protection from hormonal teenage boys.

I plan to broach the topic with her later today. I imagine that the process will go along much easier if she has the ability to choose her new ‘roommate.’ Getting her to promise not to kill them will already be a difficult task; I think that it’ll go along much less painfully if she is paired with someone she doesn’t dislike.

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Pen left paper as Simon, a tall, lanky man rose from his stiff seat and plain desk. Closing his little marble notebook, he stuffed it away into a small cabinet and locked the door. Sighing as he walked, he removed his blue overcoat and ran a thin hand through his salt-and-pepper locks, removing the long tresses from his face and revealing thick-rimmed glasses. The man had found his way into the restroom, a scruffy and disheveled man staring back at him from the reflective surface of the mirror. Tired, grey eyes met his own before falling to dark rings and then onto unkempt facial hair. He allowed his eyes to rove over his own thin body, assuring himself that his brown turtleneck and black slacks and shoes were acceptable.

Splashing some water onto his face, to little effect, he set out to a certain destination, absentmindedly considering the ridiculousness of his current plan of action. Oh, he had no doubt that he could make it happen, though that thought hardly comforted him, for some reason. Regardless, here he was. Behind this  door was the head of it all. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered to himself, pushing the door open.

His boss wasn’t one for niceties; as far as she was concerned, they were a waste of time, spent only by idiots with thin egos. Right bitch she may be, but when you’re as brilliant as Helena Pierce, you could get away with a lot.

Stepping through the door saw a certain shift in the air. He was immediately fixed with a bored –condescending, even–glare that seemed to lower the temperature by a good 30 degrees or so. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he gulped, awkwardly, as he weighed his words. He opened his mouth, as if to explain his intrusion, yet, words struggled to come. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like a good idea after all.

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow, tapping her finger against her desk impatiently.

Swallowing, and cursing the dryness in his throat, he croaked. “It’s about Eve.”

That got her attention. “Spit it out.”

“I’ve noted that she seems to hold a special fondness for males, her age. She’s more…tolerant of them.”

Pierce blinked, but recovered quickly. “It makes sense, I suppose. Now stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want.”

Getting ahold of himself, Simon decided to just spit it out. “I think that we’ve been going about teaching her all wrong. If we want her to become less violent around others, and learn to control herself, then perhaps we should start by having her interact with people closer to her age.”

“Are you suggesting we give her a playmate?”

“And if I am?”

She leaned forward, twin ice chips locking onto his own eyes. “Go on.”

The tall man sighed in relief, handing her a worn clipboard. Her glacial eyes regarded it for a moment and he began to speak. “Eve has displayed significantly reduced aggression when in the presence of males of a similar age range. She has displayed subtle attempts at, um… preening herself and essentially making a good impression, when in their immediate presence. I suspect that her actions are at least partly a result of her own heightened instincts telling her to seek a suitable mate.”

Pierce hummed at that, but said nothing.

“I suspect that if were to provide her with a male counterpart for herself, specifically one that might appeal to her own desires, she might tolerate him enough to, well, to not kill him. Through him, we could possibly motivate her to willingly develop the social skills that she would need to impress a potential mate. Something beyond a simple, primal desire for a male. You know that won’t cut it amongst regular, or even most irregular people. It wouldn’t last, and is far more likely to end with some poor guy’s death.”

“Is she a mantis, now?”

“She’s many things, ma’am.”

He went silent and searched his boss for her reaction. As usual, she looked bored. However, she hadn’t kicked him out yet. He waited, patiently and was rewarded when she finally laid down the clipboard and pinned him with a stern look. “Make it happen.”

Simon allowed himself to sigh in relief before nodding to the woman. He ignored her amused smirk and instead turned on his heel, knowing a dismissal when he heard one.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Copyright © Jordan Simon (2017) All rights reserved.