“After speaking with your father, we were able to fill in a lot of missing pieces to your history.”
“Did he tell you things that were in the journal?”
“He did. He also shared a lot of personal experiences with us.” He stops talking, and looks around the room at all of the listening ears. “Let’s continue this conversation in my office. It’s right across the hall.”
He leads me out into the hallway and alerts the security guards where we are heading. They reposition themselves outside of his office door after giving the room a quick once over to check for any threats.
Dr. Nolan’s office is very traditional, unlike the impersonal modern decor the majority of what I’ve seen here at the colony boasts. The walls are made up of dark walnut shelves and house hundreds of books. His desk is a heavy wood and stained a dark cherry tone. Two cushy red leather chairs face his desk and a matching chair on wheels sits on the other side. The wall behind him is ornamented with an exceptionally large abstract painting that ties the whole room together.
“Please have a seat, Emma.” He waits for me to sit before continuing. “All of our research here is very well documented,” he says, pulling a thick accordion folder off one of the shelves.
“When I first came here to begin my career, there was one particular case that I couldn’t tear myself away from. It was one of the most detailed case studies I came across. It dated back to the 1950s and 60s. The focus of the study was a young woman referred to as ‘Subject Seven’.”
He sets the binder on his desk before taking a seat in his chair. A yellowed label on the front of the binder reads ‘Subject Seven’ in an old typewritten font.
“At the time, medicine was nowhere near what it is today—there was a lot that was misunderstood. Subject Seven was a very emotionally disturbed young woman. She suffered from a dissociative identity disorder—she saw herself as having two separate yet equal identities. She felt as if she had no control over who would be the dominant identity. Each was aware of the other, but the two could never cohabitate as one individual. It was either one or the other who was present within her.
“She was a dreamwalker as well. She lived here for fifteen years before they finally figured out how to integrate themselves into her walks to get a better grasp on what she was describing to them.
“There was only one research scientist who was able to connect with her on a walk. His name was Michael Billings. In his writings, Dr. Billings stated that while walking, he was able to visually observe the two separate identities she had within her. When she walked, she walked as two separate people. They interacted with each other and with him. He compared them to twins—two people who were nearly identical in appearance but had distinct personalities, thoughts, and mannerisms.
“In the real world, Subject Seven was nearly impossible for anyone to interact with. On a walk, however, she—or they, were completely different. Dr. Billings theorized that somehow, there were two individual souls living within one human body. He wrote extensively on his views and interactions with them, including several unpublished psychiatric works regarding the true nature of what was then called multiple personality disorder.
“The two individuals warned him of a dark, evil presence. They believed this presence was only able to hurt them while they were walking. They didn't want Dr. Billings there with them for fear that he would become a victim of the darkness.
“The more time he spent walking with them, the more catatonic Subject Seven became in reality. After eight months of sharing walks, something happened to him. One of the nurses gave her account of what she observed. It was around 3 a.m. His whole body became incredibly rigid; his skin turned a ghostly pale white. Every visible vein in his body became thick and black. His lips turned purple. His eyes and mouth both opened wide, his expression looked as though he were screaming in terror. He was dead within seconds.”
He opens the binder and flips several pages in. “Subject Seven hadn’t spoken or even interacted with anyone in close to a year by that point. The next morning, she walked out of her room, into