My Genius Family's Living Lab Rat

In a household where everyone was a genius, Ithe one who always ranked dead last in schoolserved as the living teaching material my parents used to educate my brother Lance and my sister Raven.

To test my spatial awareness, Lance once locked me inside an abandoned factory shaped like a maze for an entire day and night.

When I collapsed from dehydration, Mom's eyes turned redas she gently dabbed the sweat off Lance's forehead.

"Next time, you need to control the duration, sweetheart. Shelly's body is fragile. She can't handle this much stress."

To study my emotional thresholds, Raven cut my diploma into tiny shreds.

I hid in my room, shaking. Dad knocked softly on the door.

"Raven is teaching you how to break free from the chains of standardized education. You need to appreciate her good intentions."

Later, for their research project"Placebo-Based Physiological Intervention in Low-Cognition Individuals"they replaced my asthma inhaler with saline solution.

I stared at the empty bottle. I didn't call for help.

I just lay there quietly, feeling the air being stolen from my lungs, breath by breath.

I finally understood. My biggest mistake was being born into this brilliant family.

"The vital signs monitor on subject Shelly shows her heart rate has been flatlined for three hours now."

Raven sat on the leather couch, her head tilted down as she scrolled across her tablet.

"Her pseudo-death avoidance mechanism has likely reached its peak."

Her voice was young and crisp, yet carried a chilling, mechanical detachment.

I floated near the ceiling, watching her silently.

My body was lying on the floor of the bedroom, just one door away.

My skin had already turned that purplish color of oxygen deprivation.

"Don't bother with her."

Lance pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"According to biological instinct, when hunger surpasses pride, she'll come out on her own to find food."

He picked up a silver knife and precisely cut the Black Forest cake in front of him into a perfect wedge.

"Low-cognition individuals have very poor endurance. We already proved that in the dehydration trial."

Mom, Maggie, took the cake with a face full of pride, smiling so wide that fine lines appeared at the corners of her eyes.

"Here, Lance, eat more."

"Congratulations on winning first place in the national physics competition again!"

"Thanks, Mom."

Lance accepted the plate with elegant manners.

Dad, Carter, raised his wine glass, the red wine swirling in the crystal stem.

"Our family genes are simply superior. Raven won the Psychology Innovation Award last month too. Double celebration!"

The four of them clinked glasses, the crisp sound of glass echoing through the living room.

Bright lights. A warm, joyful family scene.

I looked down at my own translucent hand.

Just three hours earlier, I had been writhing in agony on the floor as my asthma attack hit.

I'd desperately pumped that inhaleronly to spray nothing but useless saline.

I bit through the mouthpiece. Blood and salt water trickled down my throat.

I clawed at the wooden floor until streaks of blood marked the wood.

But outside my door, they were busy discussing topics for their next journal publication.

"How come Shelly hasn't left her room all day?"

Mom swallowed a bite of cream, as if suddenly remembering there was a fifth person in this house.

Dad waved his hand with a chuckle.

"That kid ranked last in her exams again. Probably too ashamed to show her face."

He took another sip of wine.

"Let her sit there and reflect on it."

I let out a bitter laugh.

I came last in those exams because the day before, Lance had locked me in an abandoned factory for twenty-four hours.

The dehydration shock had left me too weak to even hold a pen.

"Honestly, aside from being slow, Shelly has always been a sweet kid."

Mom sighed and placed the biggest piece of strawberry cake onto a clean plate.

"I'll go check on her. Don't want her to actually starve."

She stood up and started walking toward my room.

Floating in midair, I felt a ridiculous flicker of hope.

Open the door, Mom.

Open it, and you'll see just how ugly your obedient daughter looks in death.

"Mom, wait."

Raven suddenly spoke up, grabbing Mom's wrist.

"What is it, Raven?"

"The intervention experiment is at a critical stage."

Raven pointed to the data curve on her tablet.

"If you go in now, you'll ruin the final data on the placebo effect."

She tilted her head up, her expression dead serious.

"This is a joint paper Lance and I are submitting to SCI journals. Disrupting the experiment process would count as academic misconduct, you know."

Mom froze at the words "academic misconduct" and instinctively pulled her hand back.

Lance slowly dabbed the corner of his mouth.

"Scientific progress always requires sacrifice."

Dad nodded in approval and patted Mom on the shoulder.

"Lance is right. It's called putting resources to good use."

"Set the cake down. Don't spoil her."

Mom hesitated, glanced at the strawberry cake in her hand, then finally placed the plate on the table.

I stared at that strawberry cake, watching the cream slowly melt.

Just like every illusion I'd ever held about this family.

"As if she hasn't faked being sick enough times before?"

Dad scoffed.

"Last time, when Raven cut up her college diploma, she sat in her room shaking, playing the victim."

Dad's tone was full of disgusted disappointment.

"I told herRaven was teaching her to break free from the cage of test-based education."

"And what did she do? She didn't appreciate it at all. She even dared give us attitude."

Raven giggled.

"Dad, that's called learned helplessness. Low-IQ people respond to stimuli beyond their comprehension by regressing."

"I was just helping her broaden her emotional threshold."

Mom stroked Raven's head affectionately.

"Our Raven really is a genius. So young, and she already knows so much."

She turned to look at my bedroom door, her expression turning cold.

"If only Shelly were half as smart as you twoI'd laugh myself awake from my dreams."

I drifted over to my bedroom door and peered through the wood.

My body lay quietly beside the bed.

My eyes were fixed in the direction of the door crack, my hand still tightly gripping the tampered asthma inhaler.

"Lance, the subject's heart rate is showing a flat line. Could the monitor bracelet be broken?"

Raven poked at the tablet screen.

Lance walked over and glanced at the data.

"Impossible. I modified that medical-grade sensor myself."

His voice was firm.

"She must have taken it off and thrown it aside. A childish attempt to get our attention."

Dad shook his head.

"That kid puts all her cleverness into pointless things."

"Ignore her. When she gets hungry enough, she'll crawl out and apologize."

Mom yawned and stood up to clear the leftovers from the table.

"Alright, everyone get some rest. Lance has an awards ceremony to attend tomorrow."

Late that night, after the dinner ended, Dad sat in the study flipping through an old photo album.

He stared blankly at a picture of me at age five.

In the photo, I was wearing a beautiful princess dress, laughing brightly at the beach.

Back then, I hadn't developed asthma yet. I hadn't been diagnosed as "low cognition" either.

Mom walked in with a cup of warm milk and placed it on the desk.

"What made you dig out these old photos all of a sudden?"

Dad sighed and traced his finger across the picture.

"She was so adorable back thenchasing the waves, calling 'Daddy' over and over."

He frowned.

"Do you think we've been too hard on her?"

Mom's eyes wavered for a moment before hardening again with rational coldness.

"Carter, you're too soft."

She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"We're doing this for her own good. Having geniuses like Lance and Raven around will make her stronger, so society won't chew her up later."

Mom took a sip of milk, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Society is brutal these days. If we don't push her, others will eat her alive."

I floated in the study, listening to this self-righteous theory.

So that's why you let me get locked in an abandoned factory?

That's why you let Raven shred the diploma I stayed up countless nights earning?

Dad seemed convinced and nodded.

"You're right. No pain, no gain."

He closed the album and shoved it into the bottom drawer.

"Once she's done reflecting this time, I'll make it up to her properly."

Just then, soft footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Lance walked past my door holding an infrared thermometer.

He stopped and pointed it at my bedroom door.

[Beep.]

The device let out a soft sound.

Lance looked at the readout and muttered to himself.

"Room temperature dropping. Body surface temperature converging with ambient."

He let out a cold laugh.

"Even deliberately lowering her metabolism. She really knows how to play dead."

I pointed at Lance's face and screamed.

"I'm not playing dead! I'm actually dead!"

But only the empty echo of the hallway answered me.

Lance turned and returned to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Mom sat in the study for a while longer, still feeling uneasy.

"I'll go to the kitchen and squeeze her some orange juice."

"Her asthma flares up easily when she's angry."

Dad reminded her, "Go light on the sugar. She gains weight easily."

Mom carried the juice over to my door.

She raised her hand and knocked.

"Shelly, Mom made you some orange juice."

No movement inside.

My body was already showing early signs of livor mortis. The blood had stopped flowing, the limbs stiff as iron.

"Catch your breath before you drink it. Stop being stubborn."

Mom's voice drifted through the door.

I looked at that glass of juice. The irony was suffocating.

When I was begging for help during my attack, you were all cutting cake.

Mom waited at the door for a minute.

When I didn't respond, her patience ran out.

"Why are you so stubborn, child?"

"We're family. What's wrong with making a little sacrifice?"

She slammed the bowl onto the floor outside the door.

"Drink it or don't! You and your damn attitude!"

Mom stormed off back to the master bedroom.

The hallway fell into dead silence again.

Inside, a few flies had already crawled in through the cracks in the window.

They circled around my nose, buzzing softly.

The next morning, an indescribable odor began drifting through the house.

It was the mix of incontinence and faint decay.

Neighbor Professor Leon happened to drop by to borrow a couple of books.

The moment he walked in, he pinched his nose.

"Carter, what's that smell? Is your plumbing backed up?"

Raven was sitting on the couch eating a sandwich.

"Professor Leon, Lance is running an anaerobic fermentation experiment with organic material. Some of the gas escaped." She smiled innocently.

"He's collecting data for an environmental project."

Professor Leon's face lit up with understanding, and he gave a thumbs-up.

"Carter, those two geniuses of yours are national treasures. So young, fresh out of college, and already working on such advanced research."

Dad smiled awkwardly, but his eyes glowed with vanity.

"Oh please, they're just fooling around."

Professor Leon looked around.

"By the way, where's your eldest, Shelly? I don't see her."

"She's usually on the balcony memorizing vocabulary by this time."

Dad's smile stiffened.

"Shelly isn't feeling well. She's resting in her room."

After Professor Leon left, Lance came out of his room wearing a white lab coat.

He held a powerful flashlight, his expression grave.

"The placebo effect testing has exceeded the allowable time. Preparing to perform pupil-light-stimulation arousal."

He spoke as he walked toward my room.

"Prolonged low-energy state in the subject may cause irreversible brain damage. Forced arousal is necessary."

Mom was mopping the floor. Hearing this, she finally felt something was wrong.

She grabbed Lance.

"Lance, stop it."

"Shelly has asthma. What if you trigger an attack? I'll go get her."

Dad set down his newspaper too.

"Yeah, that's enough. If we keep her locked up any longer, she'll throw another tantrum."

Dad stood up and put on his coat.

"I'll go buy her the newest imported anti-allergy medication, and that big bear plushie she's always wanted."

"We'll just have to coddle her. After all, she IS the dumb one in our family."

I floated in the air, watching Dad hurry out the door.

My tears dissolved into wisps of nothingness.

That giant teddy bear was a gift I'd wanted for my birthday years ago.

I begged them for it over and over.

I had no use for it now.

Raven ignored her parents' decision.

She quietly walked to my door, lay flat on the floor, and peeked through the crack.

"Lance, come look at this."

Raven lowered her voice, a hint of excitement in her tone.

Lance walked over and crouched down beside her.

Beneath the door, a strand of lifeless hair could be seen splayed across the floor.

"The subject's hair has lost its luster."

Raven typed rapidly on her tablet.

"Initial assessment: endocrine imbalance caused by long-term psychological suppression."

Lance pushed his glasses up.

"Not just that. This is keratin loss from malnutrition."

He stood up and dusted off his hands.

"Make sure to record this. It's valuable physiological datavery useful for studying physical regression in low-cognition individuals."

I watched them, feeling waves of nausea.

This was Lance and Raventwo monsters with IQs of 160.

Half an hour later, the front door opened. Dad walked in holding an enormous shopping bag.

"Shelly, Daddy bought you the bear you love most! Come out and see, okay?"

Dad placed the massive plush bear on the couch and patted its head.

"This bear wasn't cheap. Cost me half a month's bonus."

Mom walked over, looked at the bear, and sighed.

"Well, you bought it now. As long as it gets her to calm down."

Dad cleared his throat and walked to my door.

"Shelly, Daddy's home."

"I got you the bear you love most, and the most expensive imported medicine."

"Come out and look, okay?"

Still dead silence behind the door.

The smell of waste mixed with decay had become impossible to ignore.

The living room air purifier started blaring frantic alarms, its red light flashing painfully bright.

Mom covered her nose, brows furrowed.

"Why is the smell getting worse? What is she doing in there?"

She tried the emotional approach through the door.

"Shelly, Mom knows we've upset you."

Mom's voice cracked.

"Remember the first time you called me 'Mama'? You were just this small."

She gestured.

"Mama loves you, you know. Don't hold a grudge against Lance and Raven, okay?"

I floated above them, watching this belated performance of devotion.

Love me?

Loving me meant watching me get locked in an abandoned factory?

Loving me meant switching my life-saving medication with saline?

Beside them, Raven was completely unmoved by her parents' emotions.

Her fingers tapped rapidly on the tablet.

"Three minutes into family emotional intervention. Subject shows no vocal cord vibration. Emotional threshold abnormal."

She reported without lifting her head.

"Recommend increasing stimulus intensity."

As the purifier's alarm grew louder and louder, Dad's patience finally snapped.

The kind-father smile vanished from his face, replaced by pure fury.

"What experiment? That's your sister! Both of you, knock it off!"

Dad whipped around, snatched the tablet from Raven's hands, and slammed it on the floor.

The screen shattered instantly.

Raven flinched and stepped back.

"Dad, what are you doing?! All my data was on there!"

"This is what you're worried about right now?!"

Dad finally sensed something was deeply wrong.

He rushed to the entryway, yanked open a drawer, and frantically rummaged through it.

"The spare keywhere's the key?!"

He flung the contents of the drawer all over the floor.

Mom's heart leapt to her throat, her face going pale.

"Carter, don't scare me. Shelly didn't actually"

Dad finally found a rusty spare key at the very bottom.

His hand trembled violently as he gripped it.

He walked to the door, took a deep breath, and inserted the key into the lock.

[Click.]

The sound of the lock disengaging rang unnaturally clear in the silent hallway.

My soul quietly closed its eyes.

The door was thrown open.