[ WP ] While doing autopsy on a person diagnosed with schizophrenia , coroner discovers thin lens on patient 's eyes and implanted hearing aid device in ears . Looking through lens , coroner sees other beings in the room .

`` Lenses, Mr. O'Neil?'' 
 
 `` Y-yes, sir. Lenses,'' James stammered nervously. For a moment he realized how crazy he must sound. 
 
 The director adjusted himself in his chair and then fiddled with his tie for a moment, `` And how, if I may ask, did you find these *lenses*?'' 
 
 It had been the third case in a week. A relatively healthy young person who had apparently acquired an acute case of paranoid schizophrenia long after the average age of onset. There was no family history of such disturbances and no warning signs. All three bodies had similar injuries and cause of death - Extreme self-inflicted claw marks around the eyes and spontaneous cardiac arrest compounded by extremely high levels of adrenaline and sleep deprivation indicated a death caused by, quite simply, pure fear. But why the eyes? 
 
 `` I decided to cut into the eyes,'' O'Neil paused for a moment before continuing, `` It is against protocol, I know, but I had to know why they all clawed at their own eyes. My findings, no sign of external trauma, no allergic or chemical reactions present. But, I found scars.'' 
 
 The director cleared his throat, `` Scars, Mr. O'Neil?'' 
 
 `` Yes, scars.'' 
 
 `` Is that not to be expected?'' He narrowed his eyes at the frail-looking examiner across from him. 
 
 `` N-No, sir. Mechanical damage caused by the scratching would n't have had time to scar. And anyway, these were *surgical* scars.'' 
 
 The portly director rested his eyes upon the cigar humidifier on his desk, but did n't reach for one. `` Is this unusual? Corrective vision surgery is quite common these days, examiner.'' 
 
 `` No history of it, sir. And the incisions did n't match up with laser surgery. That is when I discovered...'' 
 
 `` The lenses?'' 
 
 O'Neil nodded, `` The lenses.'' 
 
 `` And you claim that you saw *images* in these lenses?'' The director asked. He was now fiddling with an unlit cigar. 
 
 `` As strange as it sounds... Yes,'' The examiner took a moment to swallow before speaking again, `` More like *videos*. The images moved. I could barely make them out, blurry, but it was like a video. A miniature screen.'' 
 
 The director glared, `` I think you've been watching too much science fiction, O'Neil. This sort of thing just does n't exist yet. Projector lenses?'' He scoffed. 
 
 `` Maybe, sir, but I saw what I saw.'' 
 
 `` And what did you see?'' A raised eyebrow. 
 
 James O'Neil looked around the office nervously, `` I saw people. They were in the room with me. I could n't make out the faces, but they... I thought I could feel them. This was n't just... a projection, sir. One appeared to be sitting on the table. That'd have to be active software or...'' 
 
 The director was smiling. It was that sort of smile an adult gives a child caught in a ridiculous lie. But, somehow he also looked worried. `` And where is your proof, examiner O'Neil?'' 
 
 `` The lenses, they... melted.'' 
 
 `` Melted?'' 
 
 `` Yes, I placed them in saline, but they fell apart when I tried to re-examine them a few moments later. But, but I have pictures - video even.'' 
 
 The director waited patiently, still fiddling with a cigar, as the examiner slid a personal cell phone across the table. The phone was showing a video, surprisingly high-def, of what appeared to be a contact lens sitting on the cold steel of the examination table. In the curvature of the lens one could make out what appeared to be a reflection that did not match the scenery of the room. 
 
 `` Did you send this to anyone, examiner?'' 
 
 `` Of course not, sir. Protocol does not allow transmissions from inside the facility.'' 
 
 The director nodded, looking grim. `` And how are you feeling, Mr. O'Neil?'' 
 
 The little examiner looked confused at the question. He watched the director place the phone into a drawer. `` I, uh. I feel fine, sir. I'm not over worked or anything if that is what you're...'' He froze mid sentence. 
 
 His boss smiled at him from across the desk. 
 
 James O'Neil, the medical examiner, stood up quickly, knocking his chair down behind him. He looked unsteady, pale. He was holding his arms out as if pushing something away. He mumbled quickly, `` What is this?'' The eyes were darting around the room, focusing on nothing. 
 
 `` Standard protocol, James. ``, the director sounded bored, but continued to watch the flailing examiner. 
 
 He had his lab-coat off now and was swinging it around the room, apparently trying to keep something at bay. The examiner was wide-eyed as he watched the creatures that surrounded him. They were humanoid, but *wrong*. They flickered in and out of existence. The creatures had no eyes, instead empty dark pits where eyes should be. James backed into a corner in an attempt to stay away from them. He could hear nothing except an all encompassing full-spectrum whine, it was horrifyingly loud. The room started to fade away, but the creatures stayed. The noise in his ears sounded like whispers now - whispers at the volume of a shout. 
 
 The director calmly pressed the intercom on his desk and spoke normally, `` Security, my office. It's O'Neil, he's gone mad.'' He pulled his finger away from the button and stood up, walking calmly past the examiner and into the hall with a satisfied smile. The poor man had been crouched into the corner now, whimpering, slowly tearing at his eyes with bloodstained fingers. He locked the door behind him and waited for security to arrive. 

