Troy regretted his earlier decisions.
But, sitting in the back of a larger car with what amounted to a blindfold, he couldn't really do very much. He had said yes to it all. Signed the papers giving them the right to do so.
Those damn papers.
He hit his head against the wall of the car, making a mild thud emerge from it. Troy had been so stupid. Blinded by the opportunity in front of him, he hadn't even bothered to browse the fine print enough.
First off, this job that he now had didn't let him live in his apartment. He would be sleeping and spending his free time in on-site accommodations. Troy could live with that. It wasn't the biggest sacrifice in the world. He would just quickly head home, grab a few things, and then be on his way to the job.
But there came one of the big kickers. From the moment that he had signed that paper, he had agreed to be facilitated to the job-site immediately. No stops. No nothing. Couldn't even get his new toothbrush with him.
To Troy, all of that could be dealt with. But there was one last detail that couldn't just be ignored.
As the man had only realised later on, Troy wasn't cleared to know where this facility was. To make sure that Troy continued to not have the slightest clue about its location, some precautions would be made.
The first precaution had already been stated. He had been made to give access to his brain- implant. The visual part of it, at least. The people had made it so he would be able to see nothing but pure darkness. Fun. Not. That process had included given more than enough reminders of the past.
The second precaution would be his seating arrangements. When his behind had first made contact with the surface of the seat, the wrongness of it was immediate. It vibrated. Not a soft, nearly unnoticeable vibration. No… this one was there to be felt. No position was comfortable. Constant movement was the only way to dampen the pins and needles. It was supposedly to disorient him. If that was true then it certainly did its job perfectly.
But worst of all was the third precaution. At least, Troy was by now pretty fucking sure it was a precaution. The time it took to get there. Troy hasn't exactly been travelling in pure luxury. They could have been a bit more accommodating. If they didn't want Troy to be able to figure out where it was from the time it took to get there they could have surely distracted him in some other, more comfortable way. Maybe put on the newest episode of Kitchen Murders. That would work to distract Troy, at least.
Then Troy began noticing something. New, constant pressure on his left side that made him slide slightly in his seat. Finally, it seemed that they were stopping. Now, Troy wasn't exactly sure how they had strapped him up, as he hadn't had the luxury of seeing anything for some time, but he would have to unstrap himself. If it would give him the privilege of coming out of this hellish state, he would gladly do it.
But this hadn't been the first time that Troy had tried unstrapping himself. He gave up after little time. It seemed he would wait. At least the seat had stopped vibrating.
To his right, he heard an outdrawn squeak as the door he entered through opened. Two series of footsteps entered, headed for his immediate position.
“Apologies for the travelling situation,” an older, woman said. “Usually, we also give you electric shocks. A bit more for fun for us, when we get on your nerves.” An older, sarcastic lady. Troy liked her already.
“Electric shocks? The government is getting lax nowadays. Where are the people making paper cuts between my toes?”
The light finally entered Troy's eyes, allowing him to see again. Before him stood an aged woman in a lab coat, with her defining feature being those eyes of hers. Eyes that could kill, if needed.
This characterization didn't last long though when an exceedingly loud sigh came from her.
“Up with you now. If you don't hurry, chances are that they'll drive away with the both of us.”
That was all Troy needed to hear, nearly running to the exit. There unfortunately wasn't enough space for him to sprint, so he powerwalked, hoping to convey the same meaning. The unnamed old lady easily followed at a routine walking pace. Troy, being the gentleman he was, waited outside the vehicle. This was totally not because he had no idea where to go. He had expected to be outside when he stepped out of the railcar, but he was far from it.
About five meters above him was what looked like a pure concrete roof. Two of the sides were the same texture, with the other two holding a large door with a Numpad on it, and a larger entrance for the railcar, which led out into pure darkness. While it was fairly obvious that he needed to go through the black door, Troy didn't know the code, so he was forced to simply twiddle his thumbs while the woman took her sweet ass time.
Relative to Troy's current patience, several minutes passed before the still-unnamed woman deigned to step out of the railcar.
“Well, Mister Maxwell, introductions seem appropriate. My name is Dr Hale. Friends call me Dr Hale, but you can call me… Dr Hale.”
The words of Dr Hale stunned Troy for but a moment before he retaliated. With words, of course.
“Nice to meet you, Dr Hale. You can just call me Troy though. Quick question. What do people who aren't your friends call you?”
“You may not believe it, but they call me Dr Hale.”
Troy and Dr Hale had entered through the door and were walking to a hallway akin to one that might find in a hospital. Everything sterilized, and the only thing that even hinted at some creativity would be the blue gradient on the walls.
“Well Troy, I must say I am surprised by you.”
“What would surprise you about me?” Troy inquired.
Troy had only known Dr Hale for about five minutes, but he already had a good grasp on her. If something could be said sarcastically, one should assume by default that she would say it so.
“Your quickness in accepting the job. We hadn't thought you would say yes right away.”
The last sentence was said with just a hint of bitterness and a small mix of disappointment. Two things that should not have been said with such a positive thing.
“Would something have happened, if I had waited to say yes?” Troy asked, slightly hoping that a negative response would come. He thought that he had been helpful doing it as quickly as possible, but now somebody wanted him to do it slowly? Double standards, man.
“Oh, it would have been a lot more fun if you waited a few minutes to say yes. Even more, if you left the building without answering. In the short term, you would have been offered a lot more and better benefits, some of which I don't even have. Not that I need most of them, but still.”
“And… What would have happened if I left the building?”
Troy did see that he was being set up, with her mentioning it at the start yet not explaining it, but that didn't stop him from tripping the wire.
“Well… since you wouldn't have responded to the carrot with a positive attitude, we would most likely have resorted to using the stick. Oh, don't give me that look. We wouldn't have done anything serious. Just a few small things, like unsyncing all movies you watch, slightly changing the songs you listen to-”
“Wait, wait, wait. A small query here. How would that in any way make me say yes to your offer?”
There had to be some limits to what they would have done to make Troy say yes to the job offer. Yes, Jolly had more than hinted at him being the last possible person for the job, but still.
“Oh, it wouldn't be incredibly helpful in that direction. It would be mostly for my enjoyment… and in the name of science, or whatever. It would have made you a bit restless, make you want to get out of your situation and get some new stimuli. That's where we would ask again, and you wouldn't hesitate to say yes, probably.”
“Sorry, what kind of doctor are you exactly?”
Troy was beginning to find it hard to believe that the person he was talking to was a doctor in anything.
“I'm a physiatrist with a focus in clinical neurophysiology. My job for the next indefinite amount of time is to be your mental-health person. It is the reason that I was the one to escort you inside.”
That did surprise Troy. He didn't think that he would be important enough to even get to talk to a physiatrist, and not even come close to having a personal one. And what was that about clinical neurophysiology? Now, Troy didn't have the entire lexicon stored in his head, but that sounded much too specialized for overviewing him. Unless…
“Are there any dangers with this job?”
That caused Dr Hale to stop, which Troy mirrored.
“Why would you- Oh, yes, right. You actually have no idea what you will be doing, correct?” Troy nodded, making Dr Hale sighed. “Should have figured. Listen, we have a tight schedule, so I'll just give a brief description. You will be doing a job which we, the researchers, were supposed to do but can't. There are a few reasons for that. First off, we already know all the answers to all the puzzles and tests that will be done, and we don't want an unintended Clever Hans effect on our hands. But you are stupid enough to not be much help in the test, no offence, so that crisis is mostly averted by using you. Any other specifics about your tasks will be told as they are needed, so I'm not gonna waste time saying them... "
Dr Hale spent a few moments in silence. Troy used that to get it all in his mind, trying to distract himself from the uncomfortableness that was being sent out in droves.
"And the reasons for having me as your personal well-keeper are a couple. First, having a well-keeper is standard procedure in these kinds of things. The reason that it's me specifically is that I'm the only one who is directly involved with the project that has the necessary education. Now, as I mentioned before, we are on a tight schedule so if you can walk faster than a handicapped hamster, that would be great.”
"I still have one question," Troy quickly said, not letting the atmosphere go to waste.
"What is this question yours then?" Dr Hale inquired, not looking happy with having to waste even more of their collective time on this plane of existence.
"How do I talk with those who are outside of this place exactly?" Troy asked. "Is there a designated spot that allows for communication or..." He trailed off, hoping that the other person in the conversation would pick up where left off. As she looked unamused, it was fifty-fifty of her just ignoring him.
"We both know you will have no need for such things," Dr Hale answered, giving away more than she likely intended to. It was not nice for Troy to know just how much they had researched on him. While he certainly had some relatives left, there wasn't any need to contact them, or any want to for that matter, and when it came to friends... nobody wanted to be friends with the soon-to-be-homeless. That was just asking for a couch-surfer.
The bank was a similar story. With no money to keep around, there wasn't any bank to contact. Although, with him a government worker, he would automatically join the country's personal bank. It was all an automatic process, so there wasn't any reason to worry about that. The bank statements would likely just be sent for him to see in his... online mail-box that he couldn't see. Maybe he would just ask for help if he ever wanted to see those low numbers with his own eyes.
And with that, the conversation was cut off, both of the lips being purely used to take quick breaths. Troy didn't understand how Dr Hale could navigate this place. No signings were posted, and the hallways all looked the same. Must just have been hard memorization.
Again, Dr Hale stopped, and Troy stopped. The reason wasn't obvious for Troy. No door was in sight, and no other reason for stopping was coming to his head.
“Why did we-”
“Quiet. Need to get this right.”
Dr Hale seemed to be pressing specific points on the wall, pausing for a second with each press, as if she wasn't exactly sure if she was getting it right.
Suddenly a hiss emerged from the wall, and Dr Hale sighed in relief.
“Tip for you. Don't be too surprised at what you see, or you won't be able to focus on your job.”
The wall opened like a sliding door.
The inside of the room ahead made Troy gasp.
