I glance at my night stand clock:  1:08 am.  Time to act--like I’ve been asleep that is.  I groggily push the covers away and slide my legs over the side of the bed.  Then, with a slight stagger to my step, I make my way to the bathroom.  Sitting quietly on the stool, I peer around.  There must be one. . . aha!  Behind the vent.  I stand up, flush, wash my hands and head for the door, shutting off the light.  Only the faint orange glow of the night light remains.  The vent is on the wall to the right of the door, as I enter, with the sink  directly in front of me; next to that is the toilet, and on the far left wall is the tub.  Pressing myself as close to the wall as possible, I slip the small screwdriver up to the first screw, standing on tiptoe.  Mr. Erwin is on security camera duty tonight and is usually asleep by 12:30.  It’s amazing what you can over-hear just by knowing what to listen for.
     Crap!  I’m too short to reach the top screws!
     Hmm. . .well, I’ll just have to figure something out.  I quietly take one step out of the bathroom.  I know there are no cameras to see me scanning my room.  Yes!  Idea!  I slink to the bookshelf, still out of camera view, and pull the thickest hard-bound books from the shelf: a dictionary; a literature text book; an old book on Renaissance art.
    Creeping back to the bathroom, I stack the books on top of each other, then gingerly step up on them. . . All right!  It works!  I can reach!  As quickly as possible, I remove the top two screws.  Then let the vent quietly swing on the last screw, the upper right corner now pointing down, and find what I’m looking for: a camera.  A small shiver runs through me, thinking about Them being able to watch me use the bathroom or bathe.
    I pull the tiny flashlight from my belt and shine it on the side of the device.  It is  surprisingly uncomplex.   I reach in and push a button.  Now I have to act fast.  I researched the security equipment that They have here and discovered that if the cameras are all hooked together and are run by one main wire, then if one is shut off, they ALL turn off.  I rush to my bed and stuff a pillow under the rumpled sheets.   Deciding it’s good enough I run back to the bathroom and switch the camera back on.  The dummy in my bed is more for anyone who disturbs Erwin.  I slide along the wall to the door.  The camera here is a panning one.  If I time it just right, They’ll never see the door open. . .NOW!  *swish-click* open!  I scramble out and pound the door close button causing the door to slide swiftly back to it’s original position.
     “Whew!”
     No problems out here.  There are no cameras and the last security guard left at midnight.  The next shift won’t start until 6:00am.  With any luck, They won’t even notice the brief period of camera “trouble.”  OK. . . Here we go. . .I take a deep breath and start  down the hall, to a room I’ve never been in. . .

     *Swish-click*
    The door unlocks.  Unlike mine, this door has a knob and swings open into the room.  It’s in an older wing of the facility.  I push the door open a crack and peer in. . . Huh?  No Cameras?  None that I can see anyway.  I open the door just enough for me to slip through and then shut it noiselessly.  Sliding along the wall, I continue my search for cameras, but see no sign.  Cautiously, I approach the bed, lean down, and peer intently at the sleeping form.  The most entertaining way to wake someone up:  The Stare Method.  After a few long minutes the sleepers eyes flutter open, see my face inches away, and would have screamed, if my hand hadn’t been there to stop it.
     “Shh!  It’s me!”
     “Mona!”  Wendy sputters, “What are you doing here?!”
     I giggle, “I came to see if you wanted to take a tour of the facility with me.”  I keep my voice low.
     “You don’t have to whisper,” Wendy reaches for her bow.  ‘This room isn’t monitored.”
     “What?!”  I cry.  “How come?”
     “You think They’d really spring to have the old rooms updated?  Yeah right!  They’re WAY to cheap for that.”  Wendy shook her head, “You’re the only one in a ‘new’ room.  Calla and I are both in rooms without cameras.”
     I cock my head at her, “Really?”
     “Yup.”  She slid out of bed to look up at me.  “So, where are we going?”
     “I really don’t have a plan as such,” I shrug, “I just thought we’d wander around a bit.”
     Wendy glances at her clock, “Good time to do it, there are no guards a. . .Hey!”  She looks at me with narrow eyes, “How’d you get in here?  Or out of your room for that matter!?”
     I grin widely, “Oh, I have my ways,” and with a flourish and a fanfare, pull the card key from my belt.
     Wendy’s eyes widen, then a slow smile spread on her lips.  “Da Vinci, you’re a genius!”  I roll my eyes at her.  We looked up my name and discovered the “real” Mona Lisa is a painting by and artists named Leonardo da Vinci.  In my opinion, it doesn’t look much like me.  After that, Wendy took to calling me “da Vinci” when she was pleased with me.
     Wendy goes to the bookshelf, pulls a very large thick book (I see it’s called The Complete Works of Shakespeare.) and struggles it to the bed.  I watch with interest as she grins at me, then opens the book to about the middle. . .
     “Wow!”  I have to squint, the light from the book is so bright.  I can’t see the exact source of the brilliant light.
     “Sorry,” I hear Wendy say and the bright white light dims to a gentle radiant orange, like a night light.  Now I can see the object shimmering in my friend’s hand; a baseball-sized crystal shining eerily from a golden rod in Wendy’s hand.
     “What’s THAT?”  I rub my eyes, still seeing bright spots before them.
     “It’s my wand.”  Wendy approaches and holds the wand in front of my beak.  I feel no heat from the glowing crystal, and bet it would be cool to the touch.
     I turn my attention from the wand to Wendy and say in a mock-hurt voice: “You’ve been keeping things from me, haven’t you?”
     Wendy giggles, “I’m sorry, but I never had the chance to show you.  I can’t risk bringing it out when They’re around.”
     “Well,”  I rub my chin thoughtfully, “I SUPPOSE I can forgive you, this time.”
     “You’re TOO kind.”  Now it was Wendy’s turn to roll her eyes.  “We going or not?  The hour grows late.”
     “You mean early.”  I raise my hands in an “After you” gesture, then follow my friend to the door.

     “Look.”  Wendy points to a sign, which screams in big red letters:

     “He was the first,”  Wendy mutters.  “Look at the number.”
     “Adam,” I turn to her, “like from the Bible,  Adam and--”
     “Eve.”  I follow Wendy’s gaze to another tube.  Suspended there is another creation, floating in the murky fluid, eternally still:

     The being resembles what was once a frog.  Webbed toes looking more like hands and feet.  Front legs growing longer like arms, back legs developing human characteristics.   Facial features only slightly human-esque, yet the fear in the eyes was there, and would be always.
     We continue down the rows of chambers; It’s like some twisted sci-fi writer’s nightmare.  Horrific creatures, faces contorted in frozen terror, grimaces of pain, anguish and fear.  There are many creations that were once aquatic animals.  ‘So this is what happened to all the life in the pond’ I think grimly.  The others are scruffy cats, dogs, birds and a few small rodents--rabbits and rats.  Apparently, once They ran out of subjects in the pond, They turned to strays and animal shelters, maybe even pets.  The longest lasting creation, according to the plaques, was a shaggy-looking mutt called “Darren”.  He had lasted from Feb. 12th, 1984-Feb. 12th, 1985; exactly one year.  I look sadly at his face, so human it’s frightening.  But he had a different expression, a proud appearance, and almost a look of peace--now dead and gone and in the tubes.  I wonder if these poor creatures ever saw this terrible place?
     Wendy and I finally come to the last of the chambers.  These last two are empty; at first I’m confused, then I hear Wendy make a gurgling noise, and I focus on my friend.  Her eyes are huge, and her fists are clenched in front of her face, covering her mouth.  She’s staring at the Plaque.  I squint, for this far corner is dimly lit and read:

     I cry out involuntarily and stagger several steps away from the horrible sight, trying to run, but not making it.  I fall to my hands and knees, my body racks with dry heaves, Wendy is at my side, one hand on my back, the other on my shoulder.  Gasping and trembling all over, I try to get a grip.  Once I’m sure I won’t throw up, I turn to Wendy’s tear-stained face.  “My God,”  she whispers in a trembling voice.
     “Like seeing your own coffin,” I choke out, my voice hoarse.
     “We’d better get out of here.” Wendy helps me to my feet, and together we shakily head for the door.  I glance at the other empty chamber’s plaque; it has Calla’s name on it.  Shuttering, I walk faster.
 
     I use the card key to open Wendy’s door.  Though I feel drained and tired, I don’t expect to sleep.  Wendy walks over the threshold, then turns to me.  “You gonna be OK?”  I ask her.
     A strange, strangled laugh escapes her, “No.”  She shivers and looks into my eyes, “You know what scares me the most?”  I shake my head.  “There’s no tube with my name on it.”
     I stare at her for a long moment,  “What do you think it means?”
     “I can’t think about it if I ever want to sleep again.”
     I nod.  “I’ll get rid of the card key tomorrow.  Put it in a garbage can or something.”
     “You mean, today.” She grins weakly.  “See ya later.”  Her wand is a deep blue, her bow droops as if it is sad.
     “’Night.”  The door swings shut.  Slowly, I trudge toward my room to wait for dawn.
    It’s 4:02am.