Raising the hand but restricted by the taut wrist cuffs, forcing it out of its grip until his skin is burning red. Then the legs wriggle, only to be abruptly held back by the ankle straps next.
Hearing the side rails creak, he realized all limbs are bind in an inches short leather bands at both length and width of the sick bed.
"Welcome, patient number 42," A computerized voice echoed louder than the groaning man in blindfold, who's constantly failing the attempts of wrecking the bed out to freedom; that has the creaking noises bouncing back and forth in the room of decaying tiled walls. Caged in a box of sickly greenish-yellow hue and dulling, cold radiance of pure white.
All he can see is nothing but glarish exposure above, the harsh fluorescent glare in the buzzing institutional bulb is reflecting all light across the glazed old floor-to-ceiling blocks.
"You are hereby authorized by the professional doctors of Interdimensional Analysis Bureau," While the man's muffled heavy breathing has gotten shakier against the gag "to perform the following necessary operational testing program. Please remain calm."
Opposite of its command, the man continued struggling despite the limited movement. He did not flinch when the doors are slammed open, and soon the bed stopped rattling. As if its halted from shaking.
The wheels reeled in loudly, seemingly a large object being moved above towards the man's direction. Suddenly, his head feels warm, and the hospital lights are no longer blinding...
"We assure you that there will be no significant complications and risks that may be associated with this procedure. You consent to the administration of clinical trials of -"
The anomalous tech revved up a deep rumbling vibration that shook the entire bed, deafening the outer distractions, and all the man can hear is his own hyperventilation circling around in the helmet.
The rumbling continues at even deeper frequency. He could feel it dig into his fast, frantic, puffing chest. Then lower down to his arms, where his quivering can be mistaken as the machine's vibration being shared down to the end of his fingertips.
"Your great efforts of voluntary informed consent has been recognized. Your contributions has gladly helped our program." He started convulsing albeit the words of the computer are devoid of its cheerful tone; expressed its gratitude.
As though his screams being stifled by the helmet, filling up the room with the pungent scent heating from the circuits of the electrocuting tech— Sending the man in seizures was a result of an act of charity.
His anguished cries engorged all the connecting veins from his jaw all the way down to his neck, it's bulging so much on his arms his blood vessels paint clearly blue in his skin.
The sensation of gritting feeling being scalped on his cranium, pacing it faster as its poking deeper to his forehead.
It's nothing like electrocution, but rather like a blunt force brain surgery.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
His body slightly recoiling at every pushing force. His feet hysterically scuffling against the bands, like his soles are desperately finding a grip.
His muted wailing fell on deaf ears, it's only him and the zapping machine. Eating his neurons alive through his blond balding hair, and every static charge is clawing through his skin, exposing his subcutaneous layer in fresh red of skinned, rotted scalp.