Mdg 115 Reika 12 May 2026

Not the pain—they had erased that with happy-light sedation and a rainbow-flavored gas. She remembered the sensation of being taken apart. A feeling like a thousand cold fingers pulling at the threads of a sweater she hadn’t known she was wearing. When she woke up, her body was a stranger’s house, and she was a guest who had forgotten the way to the bathroom.

She tried to remember what it felt like to be scared of the dark. Nothing. To be excited for her father to come home from work. A blank wall. To be furious at her little brother for touching her things. A dry, soundless desert.

Reika stood by the window of the hospital room, pressing her palm against the cold glass. She could feel the glass. The temperature. The slight vibration of the city beyond. But underneath that, where a pulse used to thrum with want , there was only a soft, white static. Mdg 115 Reika 12

The reflection stared back. Perfect skin. Rain-colored eyes. Twelve years old, and already a relic.

The bullies, sensing no prey, left her alone. You cannot hurt a girl who no longer flinches. You cannot make her cry because the machinery for tears had been repurposed into cellular repair protocols. Not the pain—they had erased that with happy-light

Because MDG-115 had a final, unspoken side effect. It didn't just fix the faulty gene. It rewired the brain’s reward pathways. The ache of loneliness. The sting of rejection. The wild, irrational joy of a summer evening. All of it was just… inefficient data. The procedure had optimized her for survival.

She lifted her hand to the glass. The reflection did the same. She watched her lips move, forming words she didn't say aloud. When she woke up, her body was a

But Reika remembered.