Project 1964

You wake up in a strange bed and immediately hear a voice coming from a speaker on your right. “Congratulations. You are a successful participant of Government project 1964, also known as the personality transplant.” You freeze. Suddenly, all the memories of your old life come rushing back, but you have one question: who are you now?  Doctors rush into the room immediately. Surrounded by people wearing scrubs, gloves, and all sorts of facial coverings, you notice one thing about them: they all look the same. You aren’t frightened by this, as you’re still drugged up from the procedure, but you still can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. 
When you leave the room three hours later, your body having been medically rehydrated, you are ushered to meet with who the staff calls ‘The Man.’ The Man, you believe, is just the head doctor, but now off your meds, you notice other things. All the nurses look the same. Not literally, like the doctors, but they all have the same dead eyes as they wander the hospital’s dim hallways. Outside of ‘The Mans’s’ office, you look around. Heavy oak doors, out of place in the dirty, tiled hallway with dimly flickering lights. Suddenly the doors open, and you are called in. A dark hallway lit with kerosene lamps gives way to a dim office, covered in charts and maps, books everywhere cramping up space. The Man sits at a desk in a chair. Not just any desk and chair. This desk and chair are lined and studded with bones. And they look relatively human. How odd. Strangely, that doesn’t bother you, though. The Man spins around in his chair, and he’s clutching a human skull in his hands. You don’t jump back in shock or even act moderately surprised. Suddenly, you’re grabbed from behind and rushed back into the darkness, The Man cackling loudly as you go. 
You feel needles pricking you all over, and then your mind goes blank. Your eyes go black. The Man stands over you, cackling loudly. “Welcome to service, Nurse 1964.” He says.

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