She couldn’t see. I know this, because it’s what she’d told me, nearly 10 years after the whole incident took place. While I wallowed away in the cold streets of New York City, Kendra sat cooped in a dark room in the middle of God-knows-Where.
To this day, she would tell you, she could not recall.
“Are you alright,” a voice asked her. A husky, manly voice.
“I suppose?” Kendra wasn’t really sure how to answer.
“The procedure is almost finished,” the man said.
“Ok,” as always, Kendra Kurtz took everything in stride. It was what made her the perfect specimen.
Her IQ was off the charts. Her spacial and cognitive scores were through the roof. She could assess a person in a second; good, bad, confused or fringing on the insane, Kendra had the gift of Hyper-Perception.
For this reason, they kept her, literally, in the dark.
“You’ll feel a pin-prick on the back of your neck,” the man said, “Don’t be alarmed,”
“I’m not; I am aware of what you’re doing?”
“You are not cleared to know!”
“But I know,”
A pinch.
Slumber