The facility is what everyone called it. The doctors, scientists, nurses, and other staff would call it that, confirming this cold building you are held in, has no name.

If no name, then no identity.

That’s a rule scientists thought of when they numbered all the new experiments.

“1279, 1642, 1369, 1965.” The balding man’s voice would boom throughout the echoing hall where children stood flat against the horror white walls. He’d list each one off.

“1256.” He said looking at you in the eyes. His eyes weren’t looking at you though. No way those orbs in the holes in his face were eyes. His were dry, grey, lifeless. Unlike any eyes you’ve ever seen. They aren’t eyes.