Felicia didn’t want to do it. Something about the word experimental made her insides constrict like she would be held against her will inside a glass jar with scientists studying her every move and writing on their clipboards. There wasn’t a choice, though. She would be homeless when her landlord kicked her out of her high-priced condo.
Losing her job was a betrayal, especially after all those years of long nights at the office, but losing her condo—that would be the final straw. She would have no life after that. The experimental drug trial was her only hope for survival.
When she arrived at the address she received from her confirmation email and stepped off the bus, she sighed with relief. The building didn’t look as frightening and ominous as she imagined in her mind—dull steel beams, grotesque stone gargoyles, and a lone structure surrounded in a dense haze of smog. Instead, there was a bright, plain white-bricked building welcoming her. She could have been going in to pay her car insurance, look up a county record, or get her teeth cleaned.
But Felicia was not that lucky. Not today. She was voluntarily going to allow a group of scientists to inject her with something they had not tested yet.
The ad said participation was at your own risk, and they would not be held liable for any side effects that may befall her. And the significant sum of money they paid a participant told her it had to be dangerous.
Being in this place and subjecting herself to this type of experimentation went against everything her parents taught her—against her sensibilities and better judgment—but she was already in the building.
“Name,” a lady with huge round glasses and a scar on her upper lip said behind the frosted glass divider. The woman didn’t even look at her.
“Felicia Carr,” she eked out.
“Fill this out.” The lady behind the glass slid a clipboard with a thick packet of paper toward Felicia. Then the phone rang. She answered it, closing the window and turning her back on Felicia.
Felicia took the clipboard and sat on a comfy chair in the waiting room. She went through each of the papers filling out things she was allergic to and basic information on her medical history. There were several waivers to sign. The last one gave her pause.
She stood up and knocked on the glass divider to get the woman’s attention. She was still chatting away on the phone.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but does this say you aren’t liable for changes in physical appearance … and species?”
“Sure,” the woman said, “whatever it says is right.”
Felicia’s stomach fluttered and the pen she was using slipped out of her sweaty hands. Anxiety hit her and she thought she might pass out, so she went back to her seat. Placing the clipboard on her lap, she caught her breath and decided she would find another way to pay her bills. Risking her health and safety was just too high a price for her to pay to keep her materialistic ways. She would find another job. She would find another place to live. Both her body and her mind were shouting at her to leave.