Unfixable

Unfixable

                "Who are you?" asked the interrogator again.

                "Blue Fizz!" replied the woman. It was a strange name, incongruous for the dumpy brunette. Her voice didn't suit the enthusiasm with which she replied, either.

                The interrogator didn't seem happy with her response. She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. A man stood just outside, looking concerned.

                "I don't get it," the interrogator said. She balled her fists. "We've removed the 'soda concentrate' from her. Most of the physical changes have been undone. She's not addicted to soda anymore. Why the fuck does she still think she's called Blue Fizz?"

                "You haven't managed to help her?" asked the man, intense concern in his voice.

                "No," said the interrogator. "We - we undid what they did to her. What she let happen for the 'story'. She's not a Racer any more. Soda would just kill her in the quantities she's likely to try. Her body - she looks a little different. With makeup maybe close to how she wound up, but she's reverted to her normal state. Why not her mind?"

                The man looked at the interrogator sadly, then sobbed. "Miranda..." he said.

                "I'm sorry, Luke," said the interrogator. "We'll keep trying." She put her arm around Luke, and led him down the corridor. Only one room was a cell - the rest were storage for the resistance base.

                They kept trying, of course. Several great scientific minds, each horrified by the grotesque things the minions of the Lords of Sin did, worked on the problem. The Ultimate Vanity Racers imbued their recruits with something known as 'Soda Concentrate'. It was similar to the 'Soda' they used to strengthen themselves in battle, but instead somehow used to alter the physiology of the Racers. Unlike most minion groups, the Racers succeeded in granting beauty and strength at the same time - along with an undying loyalty to the Racers, and a disdain for their former life.

                Miranda O'Hearty had been a newspaper reporter who wrote several pieces exposing the machinations of the Lords of Sin. Her eye had turned to the Ultimate Vanity Racers after a friend's daughter joined the group, and immediately abandoned her family.

                In an attempt to get to the heart of what she viewed as a cult, Miranda had posed as a promising recruit. Rather than leave after uncovering information about soda, or when she found out about the Concentrate, she went through with the 'conversion' willingly. Penetrating right to the heart of the organisation was her goal.

                But the Concentrate changed her mind as well. She became 'Blue Fizz', another member of the Ultimate Vanity Racers and minion of the Lords of Sin. Thankfully she had been backing up the details of her investigation in a safe location in case something happened to her. When something did, her husband Luke had been sent a copy of all she had found out.

                Luke had immediately brought everything he found out to the resistance - a group he knew of through his cousin. The Racers did eventually uncover Miranda's investigation, but the intentional avoidance of thinking about her former life meant it was two weeks before Blue Fizz said anything. Luke - and everything Miranda had discovered - was already safely hidden by then.

                It took the resistance several weeks to identify Blue Fizz as Miranda. Really nailing it down took someone sneaking into the Racer base to pilfer their records - she was almost unrecognisable, looking almost fifteen years younger. After that, it was another couple of weeks before she was captured at Luke's insistence. He had volunteered her as a guinea pig.

                Treatments to reverse the strange alterations the various Lord of Sin minion groups made were amongst the top priorities of the scientifically inclined resistance members. Although most (or all) were willing recruits, they were often tricked and pressured. They were not truly responsible for their vile actions.

                After a few experiments, the treatment was a complete success. All traces of the Soda Concentrate were removed from Miranda, her hair lost its blue colour, and her body the eerie perfection of the Racers. Some minor changes remained - she still looked ten years younger, for example - but she looked more or less like herself.

                Yet her mind... In her mind she was still Blue Fizz. The scientists tried a deeper extraction (which removed, and achieved, nothing). They tried talking to her, attempting to convince her to remember and revert to her former self. Luke was brought in to talk to her. When that didn't work, they even tried hypnosis.

                None of it worked. She could remember her former life, but that wasn't who she was any more. She was Blue Fizz. She railed against them from time to time and suffered as any prisoner would. She became more bedraggled - further showing that she was no longer a Racer - but it changed nothing. Being human again didn't matter. She was still Blue Fizz.

                Luke took it poorly, as did the woman charged with interrogating and managing the prisoners - Lucille. The day when they brought Miranda in, flush with hope, had been the best day. Every single one after - even the trepidation of the treatment - had been worse. Gone was the time when Luke had managed to joke about how close their names were. Instead he spent his time trying to deal with losing his wife; and Lucille wracking her brain for something, anything to try.

                "But why didn't it work?" she asked the architect of the treatment for the hundredth time.

                "It did work," replied the woman, for the hundredth time herself. Lucille didn't actually know her first name - she just went by Dr. Graves. "We removed all the Concentrate."

                "So why does she still think she's a fucking Racer? Some hyperactive boppy freak girl called Blue Fizz?" asked Lucille. She was exasperated.

                Dr. Graves hadn't given her a good response yet, and she wasn't about to start. It had, however, changed from 'I don't know' to something worse. "Because her mind has been changed. Her brain has been setup so she follows a couple of key things: first, she has a new personality; second, she ignores her old memories. We don't know how to fix it," explained Dr. Graves. She was on break, and knew venting helped Lucille so she didn't mind repeating herself.

                "But her... body turned back," said Lucille. "Why can't her mind come back? Get rid of the Concentrate in her brain."

                "Because," said Dr. Graves, pausing for effect, "Her brain has been rewired. Her neurons aren't where they were. Her body - and her mind, a bit - were being held in a very specific state. That's why she's reverted mostly physically. But the consistent mind effects were just things that allow her to deal with the Soda - we found that out later. Her new personality, and how she doesn't care for her old memories, is the way her brain is now.

                "We don't understand how it was done, and although we might - and can probably make her 'choose' her old memories over being a Racer - we can't fix her personality. We can't get back the old Miranda. One day, she might be close. But... even if we found out how they do it, even if we made her into who everyone thought she was, she won't be the same. And I don't even know if that's the right thing to do."

                Lucille smacked her empty cup down on the table. "Can't you let me hope for just one day?" she asked. Miranda's state got to her, especially when she remembered how many others had fallen for the bullshit of the Lords of Sin.

                "No," said Dr. Graves. "That would just make it hurt more. And you'd know I was lying."

                "I suppose," said Lucille, rising to her feet. "Thanks."

                "We all need to vent sometimes," replied Dr. Graves. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

                "Yeah," said Lucille. "Unless there's a miracle."