No Strings Attached: April

"Yes but they're just animals. I want to play with another human."

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"We have to see if the drug works first. If it does, you will be able to play with as many humans as you like."

"How long till I can do that?"

"Another few years."

"How many?"

"Twelve."

---

Five years later April ran through her complex screaming. She hit the walls with her fists and kicked her lamp until it lay in a smashed pile beside her bed. The scientists watched her sadly. The experiment had failed. "What's happening to me!" she shouted.

"I'm sorry" said the voice, "The drug didn't work."

"I hate you! I hate you!" shouted April. She picked up her doll's house and threw it against the wall. Miniatures of children bounced across the room. The kitten hissed and hid under the bed.

"Look at me!" said April, "Look at what's happened to me!"

" I know you've changed a bit. . ."

"I'm ugly!" said April, "My legs have stretched, and my face has wrinkles and spots! I look horrible!"

"We're sorry ... we hoped this would not happen."

With a trembling hand, one of the old people in the room behind the one-way mirror pressed a button. A gas hissed discreetly into the Complex and April coughed.

"What are you doing to me now!" she shouted, "Testing another drug?"

"No," said the child's voice in the speaker, "We're helping you go to sleep."

"But I don't want to go to sleep! It's not fair!"

April staggered and fell to the floor.