“Warning! The subject is resisting memory retrieval!”
“Warning! Brain waves are abnormal and erratic!”
“Warning! Brain pressure is rising above safe levels!”
The machine kept warning loudly and the screen images warped. Precious memories cracked again and again.
Veins stood out on my forehead and cold sweat mixed with blood at the corner of my mouth, dripping to the floor. My head throbbed with sharp pain; each pulse was agony.
“No! We can’t keep going!” an expert shouted. “Captain Newton, if this continues, he’ll die! He’s just a suspect, not the murderer. We can’t take his life!” Others quickly agreed.
“Yes, we must keep him alive. If he dies, we’ll never find the real murderer!”
“He’s awful, but he doesn’t deserve to die. We should follow procedure.”
But many others disagreed.
“Procedure? Did he think about procedure when protecting the murderer? Tasha’s been in the ICU for five years. Who cared about procedure then?”
“It’s better if this scum dies. At least we won’t waste food. As long as we catch the murderer, his death doesn’t matter!”
“Yes! Kill him! Avenge Tasha!”
The scene fell into chaos again as the two groups argued and even shoved each other. The livestream chat exploded with comments from both sides and the viewer count shot past two hundred million.
Vincent looked at my twisted, pained face. A brief hesitation flashed in his eyes, then turned into pure hatred. He suddenly pulled out his gun and fired into the ceiling.
“Quiet, all of you!” The gunshot stopped every argument and the room went silent. “Even if he dies today, I will uncover the truth! My sister’s pain will not be for nothing!”
He turned to the technician. “Set the machine to full power! And bring me the strongest neurotransmitter!”
The technician, pale and unsure, said, “Captain Newton, full power already exceeds human limits. Adding more neurotransmitters will burn his brain!”
“Do as I say! I’ll take full responsibility!”
The technician, too afraid to refuse, adjusted the machine with shaking hands. Another officer came with a syringe of blue liquid and gave it to Vincent.
Vincent took the syringe, came to me, tore open my uniform collar and injected all the liquid. The neurotransmitter was far stronger than I expected. As soon as it was injected, it felt like a bomb exploded in my brain.
All my defenses collapsed. The machine’s power flooded my mind, violently stealing my memories. I screamed, my body shaking uncontrollably.
Blood and white foam poured from my mouth; the pain in my head was unbearable. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, my body growing so light it seemed I might float away.
But Vincent didn’t notice my suffering, his eyes glued to the screen. “Keep going! Don’t stop! I want to see the crime scene! I want to know who the murderer is!”
The machine’s warnings became louder and more urgent.
“Warning! The subject’s brain is failing fast!”
“Warning! Brain death expected in three minutes!”
“Warning! Stop the extraction immediately!”
But no one stopped. They all wanted to know the secret this man had hidden while protecting the murderer for five years.
My shaking worsened; my body felt drained and I slowly collapsed. My mind was fading and confused.
The machine kept digging, pulling out the deepest memories from my heart. I tried to resist, but my body wouldn’t obey.
Suddenly, the flickering on the screen stopped and all the fragments formed a clear image.
