• "The creation of a perfect human form," the static garbled radio spat out from the recording, "Was once thought impossible." The sound of an agonized scream rang out from the background. "Until now…"

    The tools were lined up, cleaned and ready. The doctor sat at a work bench, a woman chained to a wall screamed for mercy, eyes swollen and red from her fearful crying. "Silence, child," The doctor called to her in a soothing tone, "You will be my first experiment." The doctor lifted a carving tool and studied it for a moment, smiling slightly. "Who are you?" Screamed the woman, "And why are you doing this?" The doctor looked up, startled by her outburst. "I am Doctor Aaron Michal. Why I do this? Because," He thought for a moment, "The human form is imperfect." Doctor Michal went back to examining his tools, staring down at the clay in front of him. "You see, my dear, I have studied humans for years, but all have a flaw. This is where you come in. You will be the first of many…"

    The chains were covered in blood. A mutilated body hung from them, no longer looking human at all. The body let out a groan, moving faintly. "That is enough for now," Doctor Michal said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "You will rest for now. Do not move, you will hinder the healing process and make it more painful for yourself." He looked down at the clay that was beginning to take the form he desired. Chunks of clay were lying on the wooden bench. "My perfect human is forming. My perfect human like creature is forming." He stood up, turning away from his victim and walking toward a solid steel door. He walked through and sealed it shut behind him, pulling a latch down over it. "She will die soon," He said sadly, "She was… Impure…"

    The radio came back on, still fuzzy. "August ninth, 1942. I, Doctor Aaron Michal, am on the verge of creating the absolute perfect human…" The tape cut out, a sick gurgling noise coming from the speakers. "Child," the voice of Doctor Michal called out from a distance, "Sleep. Dream of peace, for you shall soon be perfect…"

    The boy hung limply on the blood stained chains, his eyes squeezed tight in pain. "Child," He heard someone call, "Sleep." As much as he wished he could sleep, the pain kept him awake. "Your operation is nearly complete. Sleep and dream a perfect dream, my perfect son." The boy winced, feeling something carve into his arm. The pain was less severe now, and the smell of blood was something he was acclimated to. "That is all for today." Then, he heard a door close and lock. It had been three days of this pain; three days o feeling some invisible thing carve into him, wanting to make him "perfect". He had tried to escape before, but to no avail. He swung his legs limply, trying to use new muscles that were not there before. Suddenly, he felt something new at his back. Something long, moving about his feet and wrapping around his ankle. He opened one eye and saw the tail of a monkey attached to him. "Tail," He said to himself, "This is my one way out…"

    Suddenly the message came back on, seeming more frantic that the others. "I am Doctor Aaron Michal. If you hear this message, I have been discovered, or am in grave danger. Please, continue my-" and then a horrible scream cut his message short. "Come now, gentle doctor, you wanted me to be perfect. Taste the pain behind perfection, doctor…"

    Doctor Michal looked down at the child he was creating, fear in his eyes. "My child, my son, my perfect child!" He backed away from the boy, fearing his own work which was now set free. "Come, doctor. Feel the pain in your perfection." The boy advanced slowly, and Doctor Michal felt himself back into the wall, hearing chains rattle behind him as the scent of blood filled the air. "Come now, doctor, it's your turn. Be perfect, just like me." The boy latched the shackles to the Doctor's wrists, a glint of humor in his eyes. "I know how you did it, doctor," Said the boy at the doctor's bench. "You make us out of clay. The clay is what we truly are. You see the prefect inside of us; make us what we are inside." The boy lifted a tool and began to chunk off peace after peace of excess clay from a fresh block. "See, my doctor? I can do it, too. Maybe do it better?" He formed a head in the clay, the first screams filling the air. "Hurts, doesn't it, doctor? The price of perfection, a price we must all pay." He began to carve out a body, the screams becoming louder as he went on. "Now, my doctor, I have to fix you. Fix you just like me." He began to make scratches and add on more clay, making a new form from the human before him. "Perfect," he whispered, an animal now before him, "Perfect, just like me…"

    The tape cut off, and a lone figure sat staring at the radio. "So, that's how he did it, eh?" A soft whimper came from behind the glass wall, a new human in the blood stained shackles. "Now, you can be perfect, too…"