FCA006 700330.I1 Waxman Roberto RM
Follow-Up Interview March 30th, 2070
Interview with Roberto Waxman, regarding the Seraphim Dawn project. Conducted March 30th, 2070, by River May, assistant archivist at the FCA. File number uhh, shit where is it. Ah. 700330.i1. God that's a dumb number system.
Statement begins
“Look, Ms Mays, I… I lied in that statement. Not outright, but I hid things, made him sound less human than he was. I wrote it in ’62, years after, trying to bury it, make it feel like a job I could walk away from. But he wasn’t just a specimen, not some half-thing. He was a man, more human than I let on, and I can’t keep pretending. I owe him this.
It was August 2031, that night I snuck into the lab. I didn’t tell you how… real he looked. Not just human-like, but human, like he could’ve been my cousin. Maybe 25, six feet, thin but wiry, like he could run for days. His skin wasn’t ghostly; it was pale, yeah, but normal, like he’d been locked away forever. His face was so ordinary it hurt—soft cheeks, straight nose, lips that looked like they’d smile if he wasn’t doped up. His eyes were closed, but I saw his lashes, long and dark, human as anything.
The wings, I didn’t lie about them, but I didn’t say enough. Four, feathered, white as snow with a golden glow, like they were lit from inside. The big ones, from his shoulders, were maybe eight feet across, folded so tight they wrapped him like a shroud. The smaller ones, from his lower back, four feet, delicate, like they were meant for balance. They weren’t some freak show; they were perfect, growing from his back like they’d always been there. I saw his muscles twitch under the skin, slow from the sedation, and the wings moved with him, like they wanted to stretch.
He was sedated, always. Tubes in his arms, his neck, pumping God-knows-what to keep him under. The tank’s liquid was thick, holding him still, and that keening I mentioned? It was him, River, like he was moaning in his sleep, human but broken. I didn’t write this, couldn’t, but his eyes opened that night. Just for a moment, blue, so blue, looking straight at me. Not a creature, not a thing—a man, scared, trapped. I felt like I was drowning in that look. I bolted, grabbed a data stick from a console, and never went back to the tank.
That stick, I mentioned it. The logs said he was 85% human, not 65 like I wrote. The avian part was tiny, just enough for the wings, the light bones, the way his chest moved. He was found in Nevada, 2029, alive, speaking—English, rough, but human. The files said he begged them not to hurt him before they sedated him. The NDRC didn’t make him; they locked him away, kept him asleep because they were afraid of what he was. Seraphim Dawn was about control, hiding him, maybe others.
I wrote that statement to make him less real, to keep him at arm’s length. But he was real, River. I saw him in that tank, wings folded, eyes pleading. When the war started in ’32, they shut the compound down. I don’t know what they did with him—moved him, killed him, I don’t know. I kept the data stick, my notes, gave you that drive. It’s got the truth I hid. I’m done talking, done carrying this. But I’ll never stop seeing him.”
Interview ends.
Waxman admitted to downplaying the subject’s humanity in his 2062 statement, appeared deeply remorseful. The encrypted drive is under FCA review; early analysis suggests genetic profiles near 85% human. Subject refused further interviews, citing emotional exhaustion. Recommend archiving and expediting drive analysis.