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razzle-zazzle · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 01: A little out of the ordinary

Adverse effects + a little bit of "this wasn't supposed to happen"

2638 Words; Pooter Pile AU

TW for death, unethical experimentation, child abuse

AO3 ver

Aranka considered her latest test results with a scowl.

RA2 shifted guiltily, wringing its hands and hunching its shoulders under her scrutiny. It didn’t let up its telekinetic hold on RA1’s hand, nor did it seem particularly willing to start up the amplifier again.

RA1 stood dripping in a small puddle in the center of the testing range, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. The trough it had been drawing water from was overturned, the puddle around it still trickling down the drains at the low points of the floor. Water droplets flowed languidly down the glass separating Aranka and RA2 from the testing range.

This test had been going so well, too.

But, as was starting to prove the norm, the readouts were rendered completely useless because something simply refused to function within the parameters.

That something being the hydrokinetic clone standing in the testing range, shoulders hunched and hands shaking.

With a sigh, Aranka set the readouts down, flicking the switch for the microphone.

RA1 flinched at the speakers turning on, turning wide eyes towards the window.

“Clean up the testing range.” Aranka ordered, just barely keeping the exasperation from her voice. “Come join me and Subject 2 in my office when you’re done.” She glanced at RA2, then back through the glass. “Don’t dawdle.”

With that, she flicked off the microphone and left, not looking to see whether RA1 was using telekinesis or hydrokinesis to replace the knocked over water trough.

She didn’t need to look to know that it wouldn’t be the latter.

+=+=+=+=+

Sometimes, Aranka wondered if she made the right choices with her projects.

She had her own funding from past projects, so she wasn’t bothered by constraints set by pushy supporters or cowardly investors. The freedom was refreshing; she could truly push the boundaries of psychic ability with her methods this way, with nobody to slow her down with their objections or “concerns.”

But as Aranka looked over her two subjects, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before her, she couldn’t help the disappointment pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.

This whole project had seemed so promising. Hydrokinetics weren’t all that special, everything considered—but less-than-recent historical events had certainly made them… rarer, for lack of a better term. Even though a shared power was hardly a connection, Maligula had forever altered the public perception of hydrokinesis. A shame, really, given just how powerful water could be in the right hands.

So for her little detector to identify a hydrokinetic in the crowd at a circus—well, who was Aranka to pass up an opportunity?

That it was a child gave her pause.

But only pause. It wasn’t as though Aranka would actually be hurting the boy—getting the sample would hurt, yes, but the wonderful thing about working with clones was that it meant the original would be left alone entirely. So really, taking a blood sample from a child was hardly unethical. And with hydrokinesis as a skill becoming less and less explored, could you really blame Aranka for her choices?

The unfortunate thing about working with clones, however—assuming the clones were psychic—was that they shared a headspace with each other and the original. This was occasionally a boon; it was why she created clones in pairs.

Now, though?

How was RA1 supposed to test the limits of its ability if it was constantly bogged down by the original’s aquaphobia?

Every test. Every single test ended up unusable because the psychic energy went haywire and RA1 nearly drowned itself, or it simply froze up and refused to work with the water entirely.

RA2 was supposed to exist to prevent this—was supposed to act as a tether for RA1 to ground itself. But the fear bleeding in from the original was simply too strong, infecting every clone Aranka could make.

RA1’s shoulders were hunched, its hands clasped together nervously. Hm. Aranka would have to make a note to include proper posture in future lessons. RA2 was staring at her blankly, nails digging into its palms.

Aranka reached out a hand, a pulse of telekinesis drawing pen and clipboard to her. “That performance was abysmal.” She commented, tapping the cap of her pen against the clipboard. “Can you tell me why that is?”

RA1 shifted nervously. “I, uh, I lost control?”

Aranka raised an eyebrow.

RA1 stood straighter. “I lost control during a simple exercise.” After a moment’s thought it added, “Ma’am.”

RA2 frowned, glancing at RA1.

“I see.” Aranka said, voice not quite as even as she wanted it. “And why did you lose control again?” She tapped her pen a little faster.

RA2 was watching the steady tap-tap-tap of her pen with narrowed eyes. Aranka ignored the silent challenge—her subjects knew better than to mess with her things.

RA1 winced. “I got scared, ma’am.”

Aranka resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. The same answers as always, because it was the same problem every time.

She wasn’t making any progress like this. Patience wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

It was time to take some action.

“Right.” Aranka stood up from her chair, letting go of her pen and clipboard so they could float beside her. She stalked over to the shelf and pulled out a puzzle book.

“Go occupy yourselves with this for the next hour.” She handed the book in the clones’ general direction, letting go once they had it with telekinesis. “I have some business to attend to.” She turned back towards her desk, booting up her computer.

The door clicked open, then shut as RA1 and RA2 left the lab.

Aranka didn’t watch them leave.

+=+=+=+=+

One couldn’t focus on the puzzle book. He could feel his brother’s mental nudges, tugging him back towards the word searches like the moon tugging at the waves, but One kept drifting off anyway.

(Anxiety rolled through him, pounding at his chest like waves against the shore. He’d never seen Ms. Naumann so disappointed before.

He’d never felt so unsteady before.)

The effects of the amplifier had yet to wear off, expanding One’s abilities beyond his normal level. Ms. Naumann felt that such enhancement was vital to determining the limits of hydrokinesis; she always mentioned how his base level had yet to reach its peak due to his age.

One hated it. It made him hyper aware of all the water in the room, of the water running through the pipes in the walls. Made him hyper aware of the water in his and Two’s bodies, flowing through their bloodstream and flesh. Made him hyper aware of their heartbeats; his pounding away like crashing waves while Two’s was a steady rush of tides.

There was so much water here in this room. Just one little tug, and One could—

Don’t think about that. Don’t.

Two’s mental nudges had slowed; he was now doing the puzzles pretty much on his own.

One pushed himself up off his stomach, sitting upright with his knees pulled against his chest.

There was so much water. Too much. It was so loud in his psychic senses, rushing and flowing and roaring in his ears. It was there and it was all calling to him, pushing and pulling against his mind.

(Memories of cold hands grasping tightly. Memories of being yanked under, water muffling his screams as he fought and struggled for air.

Memories that weren’t One’s, and never would be, but were etched into his mind all the same.)

One couldn’t—he couldn’t trust the water. He knew that if he gave in, if he reached out and matched the push and pull, control would slip from his fingers too fast to stop.

(Memories of knocking over countless water troughs. Memories of too much water pushing and pulling him too fast too hard for him to stop, his reach extending too far too far until it hit at the water-filled bodies outside the testing range—

Those memories were One’s, at least. Not that that made them any less unpleasant.)

Ms. Naumann said that One’s base level hydrokinesis was already above the original’s.

(So many hands rising from the trough, coalescing together into one giant hand that One needed to burst before it could hurt him.)

Ms. Naumann said that, due to his age, One wasn’t even at his peak yet.

(The original didn’t even know he was hydrokinetic, his mind closed to the constant presence of water around him.)

Ms. Naumann said that One would only get more powerful from here.

(The constant push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push and pull and push—)

Ms. Naumann said it was imperative that One maintain control.

(He couldn’t control it. Not when fear was always trickling in the back of his mind, weakening his grip like water eroding the shore.)

Ms. Naumann said a lot of things, really.

(Water flowing through his own body, water that he could force to the surface, ripping and shredding bones and flesh to bring it out.

Water flowing through every body.)

None of them were helpful.

(She kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and not once did she give. Not once did she pull One back—she just kept pushing pushing pushing him further forwards.

Two pulled. Two always pulled, guiding One back from the precipice where his fears threatened to drown him.

But Two never pushed.)

Two pressed himself against One, startling One out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” Two cautioned, his hand finding One’s and grasping it, “Don’t think like that.”

One pushed his own weight against his brother’s. “It hurts.” He whispered. His anxiety crashed against Two’s mind like waves against a cliffside, pounding relentlessly.

Two kept rubbing his thumb over One’s knuckles. The puzzle book sat abandoned to his side. “I know.” He replied.

“I know.”

+=+=+=+=+

Exposure therapy had been going well.

RA1 could stand in waist-deep water with little issue, and RA2 could venture a few inches deeper, but attempts to induce play—to give the clones a positive association with water, so as to outweigh the negative association permeating into the shared headspace from the original—had been for naught.

Exposure therapy had been going well.

Had been.

RA1 froze up the moment the water got deeper than his knees. RA2 refused to go where RA1 wouldn’t follow.

At this rate, they’d be outstripped by the new set, who had been out of the vials barely two months at this point.

RA3 had been designed with the aquaphobia in mind; its mental shielding was the best of the clones. RA4 was ever the helpful assistant. Together, the two of them were starting to outstrip RA1 and RA2’s usefulness—though they could not go further into water than waist-deep.

Which brought to mind a new fear: RA3’s shielding might not be enough. It couldn’t block out the shared headspace entirely, and was thus plagued by the same aquaphobia all the clones shared with the original.

This wasn’t a problem that could really be solved by mental shielding, Aranka hated to admit. This was a problem that needed to be addressed at the source—a problem that required her to get her hands on the original.

Which was…

Aranka frowned. The original was a child.

(The clones were also, technically, children, but Aranka only considered that so far as it would affect her expectations of them. She couldn’t demand more of them than they could give; as children, they could not give quite as much as an adult.

But that was as far as Aranka was willing to acknowledge that. Age was a murky subject matter when it came to clones, after all.)

It wouldn’t be hard, exactly, to subdue and capture a child. But other people tended to frown upon the forceful recruitment of minors, and Aranka didn’t exactly fancy becoming the quarry of a manhunt.

She’d have to shelve that idea for now, then. Tracking down the original could come later.

RA1 was becoming unusable. RA2 might still have some use as a tether, but it had become less and less obedient as of late; its loyalty to RA1 had both uses and drawbacks.

With a sigh, Aranka flipped the switch for the dorm intercoms.

It was time to end this.

“Subjects 1 and 2, please report to Lab 2B. I repeat, Subjects 1 and 2, please report to Lab 2B.”

+=+=+=+=+

Lab 2B was the smallest lab in Aranka’s private facility. Most of the space in the room was taken up by a large glass cylinder, and what little space remained was half occupied by a simple control panel, a cabinet, and the empty space needed for the door to work.

It was not a space the clones had been allowed into, before. It was not a space that RA3 and RA4 were allowed into, still.

Aranka had never really explained the room’s purpose to any of the subjects before. She didn’t need to; it wasn’t a room that clones were meant to frequent.

The door clicked open, and RA1 and RA2 stepped in, apprehensive. Aranka gestured for them to come all the way in; the door wouldn’t close if they were too close to it.

The room, it turned out, was too small for them not to be too close to it.

Fine. RA3 and RA4 would be in the playroom at this hour. They’d get the psychic feedback, but that wasn’t a concern.

RA2 stared at Aranka with something she might have described as suspicion, if she cared enough to classify it. She felt its presence brush against her mind, not quite discreet, but not too obtrusive.

Slowly, understanding dawned on its face. It grabbed RA1’s hand tightly, and RA1 flinched as understanding dawned on it, too.

“You have outlived your usefulness.” Aranka explained, the cylinder opening with a press of a button. “I will make this quick and painless.”

“Please,” RA1 babbled, “We’ve done everything you asked of us—”

“That you have.” Aranka nodded, herding them into the cylinder with a hand on their backs. “You did very well.” She could almost say she was proud of them.

With a shove, she guided the clones into the cylinder, the glass closing behind them. “This is not a punishment,” she said, her voice as warm as she could make it. “This is just how things are.”

Small hands pressed up against the glass, two pairs of wide green eyes staring at her through it. A vent at the top opened, sedative gas pouring out.

Aranka was not lying, when she said she would make it painless.

RA1 trembled, then—

It screamed. “All you ever did was push and push and push!” It slapped its hand against the glass, frustration palpable even to Aranka. “We never asked to be made!”

Aranka felt her chest seize, her arms stilling against her sides with a wrenching push-pull sensation.

RA1’s shoulders slumped. It snarled, childish rage and upset thick in every word. “I hate this place!” Tears broke away from its face to float in a circle around it, “And I hate you!”

Aranka was suddenly very aware of how much water was in the human body. She grunted, trying to regain enough control to access the panel. If she could just—

Several things happened at once.

RA2 tackled RA1, knocking them both to the floor.

Aranka stumbled as movement returned to her, catching herself on the edge of the control panel.

Something started up with a whirr, causing Aranka to glance at the panel.

Ah. She hadn’t caught herself on the edge, not entirely—the side of her hand was holding down one of the buttons.

Pushing herself back up to standing, Aranka stepped back from the cylinder. Neither clone was fully unconscious, but—Aranka managed to ignore their screams.

She’d said she’d make it quick and painless.

Well. She’d certainly made it quick.

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #adverse effects #psychonauts #zaz writes #death #unethical experimentation #child abuse #pooter pile au #aranka naumann #RA1 #RA2 #wooooooo!!! another whumptober begins!!#kicking things off with the pooter pile au bc i can #three and four get mentioned here but one and two (and their demise) is the focus

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