Gemotions

The email arrived at precisely 9:03 AM, the subject line a curt “RE: Your Case.” Daniel sighed, already knowing what it would say. Another researcher requesting access to his medical records, another professor wanting to “pick his brain” about the “fascinating anomaly” that was his life. He felt a familiar knot tighten in his stomach.

He was tired of being a project. The doctors, the specialists, the scientists—they all saw him as a data point, a curiosity. He wasn't a human being but an exhibit. He had the right to remain silent, but he had no power. This constant barrage of interest, this objectification, had become a regular part of his existence.

He considered deleting the email without opening it. Then he imagined the inevitable follow-up calls, the polite-but-demanding requests. He felt the familiar weight of obligation settle on him, and the weary feeling of being constantly on display made him want to lash out.