The Asylum Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Pete Wainwright was a different proposition altogether. He was a freelance journalist, who came round asking awkward questions. His initial email had been worrying enough for Dr Wolvercote to grant him an interview, in order to find out just how much Pete knew. This was going to be much harder to deal with. And there was always the chance one of the totally legitimate clients might see him and remember him. “I should explain right at the start that one of the things we pride ourselves on here at Wolvercote house is our confidentiality. There is absolutely no chance whatsoever of you talking to or even seeing any of our clients.”
“I completely understand that. As I explained in my email, what interests me is the history of Wolvercote House. I’ve recently come into possession of some very interesting documents relating to its early years.” And those words decided Francis. This man was dangerous, and would have to disappear. It was so easy for an experienced psychologist and psychiatrist to manipulate Pete. By the time they’d finished talking, Pete was eager to see “the small museum my father created, chronicling the early years, and the development of various treatments.”
He easily accepted that it was tucked away out of sight, as otherwise the contents might alarm the more nervous clients.
He willingly agreed to be blindfolded, so that there was no risk of him catching sight of a patient. And when Dr Wolvercote said, “If you like, you can actually see and feel what it was like for those poor unfortunates who were kept here,” he agreed. He could not believe how stupid he’d been, how easily fooled! “This does actually still work, you know. I’ve been longing to have a suitable test subject. You’ll do very nicely. Of course, it’s rather crude, but I feel there’s a lot of unrealised potential in it.” When he had finished, Pete had no strength of will left to resist anything.
“This,” Dr Wolvercote said, as he clamped a metal band round Pete’s wrist, “is an electronic lock control. It will prevent any doors opening for you, once I activate it. Except this one, of course – and my other laboratory. Now, sit here. The helmet works best when in contact with bare skin.” Bemused, Pete obeyed.
“And this,” he said,” as he fitted a metal helmet to Pete’s newly shaven head, “will make it much easier to manipulate your brain. This is an invention of my ancestors, and it’s a little crude, like most prototypes. But I think, with a subject like yourself, I can improve on it greatly.” “Let me introduce you to the others, on the way to your new accommodation.” He led Pete past a row of small cells.
“This is Olaf. With him, I can make him see anything I want him to see. Of course, sometimes what I make him see isn’t very pleasant – but I think this interface has huge therapeutic potential.” “This is Amelie. The military are going to be very interested in her, once I iron out the basic flaws. The interface I’ve put in her mind makes her into a single-minded killing machine, when I trigger the impulse. The rest of the time, she’s just dangerous. Unfortunately, she’s not very good at taking orders, and the military tend to like that.” “Elise – she cracked too easily. But I have some ideas for her still – a new interface that I want to test. I think it should be possible to give her a whole new personality” Pete watched her slump in despair as she heard these words. “And Jonas is a work in progress. The alloy on his face? It is showing promising signs of integrating with his skin, and functioning as skin. I’m hoping it will be possible to create an armoured man, a man with metal for skin. Next stop for Jonas is his hands and feet – if I can make those areas work, the rest of the body should be easy. I need to test the alloy I other ways too, and I think you will be the perfect subject for that as well. Now, your new home.” And Pete was pushed into a narrow cell, containing only a bed. Where he collapsed, exhausted and empty-minded. But he came to feeling surprisingly clear-headed and alert. An unexpected side-effect of the machine, had he but known – and if any of the Wolvercotes had known of it, they would have been delighted. His mind seemed to race with possibilities, and his thoughts were crystal-clear.
He’d obviously fallen into the hands of a madman – but a very clever one – and he was going to have to find a way out. Step one was – had to be - the electronic lock system. And one of the things Dr Wolvercote didn’t know about Pete was his background in electronics. He got up off his bed and began to investigate the lock on the door of the cell. He managed to lever the back off, with the aid of a piece of bedspring, but what he found underneath wasn’t too comforting. The unexpected clarity of thought persisted. Two days later, Dr Wolvercote took Pete into the modern laboratory.
“I need some accurate readings for comparison.”
But along with the rather worrying-looking equipment, there was a well-stocked tool chest – and when Pete was left alone for five minutes, he abstracted a neat collection of useful objects, sliding them down inside his garments. Once again, Pete felt as though his mind was being emptied out, until all his will-power, his ability to resist or to think for himself was gone. The electricity crackled and sparked, and Dr Wolvercote watched the screen carefully and took notes.
“I’m amazed at my predecessor’s ingenuity. That primitive machine of his really does function. I shall look forward to testing it further on you.” Night had fallen when he awoke. And his mind was still clear. It was the middle of the night, and he should be safe from disturbance. He pulled the tools out of their various hiding places about his person, and set to work on the door. He’d been a prisoner for two weeks now, but he’d managed to get his cell door to unlock. And he’d been subjected to two more sessions on the antiquated machine in the old attic. The next locked door lead into a kitchen area. Two weeks later – and another exhausting session on the machine – he’d managed to get that one to unlock. Once through the door into the kitchen – which was where Dr Wolvercote prepared their not-very-appetising daily meal – there was only one more door between him and freedom. And then disaster struck. Another session with Dr Wolvercote. Another time feeling as though the very essence of who he was as a person was being sucked out of him, leaving his mind empty and pliable. At the end of it, he had no resistance left in him at all. There was nothing he could do to stop Dr Wolvercote beginning his next experiment on him. “This will be really interesting. With Jonas, I’m grafting the alloy to his skin, little by little. But I’m hoping that this suit will be self-grafting – it’s something else a predecessor of mine made, and I’ve treated the alloy. And at the very least, I can study the long-term effects of the alloy on the whole body. My predecessor was mostly interested in creating an alloy that could be worn against the face without harming the skin – and he was very successful in his research. But I would like to see this alloy being assimilated by the skin. Ideally, this will happen, and the suit will reduce in thickness. It is rather thick at the moment, but that will give me invaluable data for calculating ideal thickness rates for any future suit. You might find your movements a little conscribed.” Amelie’s mad, dangerous eyes glared at them as he was led back to his cell. The door was locked behind him as he collapsed heavily onto the bed. Once again, he awoke with his mind crystal clear and racing. He could remember everything Dr Wolvercote had done to him, could remember how he had sealed and fasted the suit to his body. And he wasn’t going to be able to get it of himself alone.
But the real disaster was the metal covering his hands. It was as though each of his fingers had been thickly bandaged. There was no way he was going to be able to manipulate the controls on that last lock. He was trapped here, like the rest of them.