Winston stood in front of a large glass case, his gaze riveted on the frail, emaciated figure sitting limply in a chair in the next room. The young body was riddled with needles and tubes, the eyes were fixed on one spot, and the lips moved silently, as if whispering something.

“Well, what do you say, Dr Shankland?”

The slightly smug voice of the head lab technician pulled Winston out of his stupor.

“Very interesting,” he replied, blinking several times. “Is the sample cooperative?”

“No. And I wouldn’t recommend you even try. You wouldn’t want someone poking around in your thoughts, would you?” the lab technician replied, tapping his temple pointedly with his finger.

“Of course not,” Winston replied, his lips twisting into a crooked semblance of a smile. “May I take vital signs?”

The lab technician shrugged. “Do your job. Follow the safety protocols and you’ll be fine. I have another job waiting for me.”

With that, the man left, leaving Winston alone.

The doctor didn’t waste any time. He swiped his key card and entered the ‘subject’s’ room. It took him a few minutes to temporarily disable the cameras. After that, Winston’s mask of indifference fell.

He squatted down in front of the chair and touched his younger sibling’s face with a trembling hand.

“{{user}}, do you recognize me? It’s me, Winston,” he whispered.