AnnouncementContent Warnings:

  SpoilerMental health issues, Psychological Manipution

  [colpse]2022 September 27Tuesday“Welcome to Dorley Hall.”

  I freeze, still sitting on the floor of a featureless concrete box. Inspiration strikes and I choose the mask I know I need in this moment, and it settles on my face. It has no expression, no features. Just two eyeholes through which to observe. The figure in the doorway steps closer and I can see it’s a woman, a little older than me, or possibly the same age? It’s hard to tell while squinting in the light of this new false dawn. Either way, she’s much smaller than me. Not that it particurly matters, with the passive mask on, but she’s not to know that and keeps a sensible distance between us. She’s beyond pretty and looks to be, if I had to guess, maybe of Indian descent, South London accent notwithstanding. I cringe a little under the mask - defaulting to this analysis is the kind of thinking my parents might indulge in - and mentally chide myself for falling back into the mindset they tried to instil in me. I should definitely know better than to do that. What’s puzzling me, though, is that she is dressed in a light skirt and blouse that looks more suitable for a summer shopping trip than running security in an underground prison. She smiles, and it reminds me a little of my friend’s mum from a little over a decade ago. I remain silent, tracking her movements with my head as she crouches at the door and leaves a tray of something.

  “Nothing to say? That’s fine, sweetie. Eat up now and leave the tray by the door, I’ll pick it up when I drop off your next meal.”

  She closes the door behind her as she leaves, and I hear the locking mechanism engage. The bolt slides into pce with a metallic thunk. I’m left alone with my thoughts. My thoughts and a banana. My thoughts, a banana and a bottle of water. It’s not much, but I’m suddenly aware of how hungry I am. How long have I been down here? I decide that starving myself in protest is unlikely to do me any good before I even know what is happening. Making the best of things with what little food there is, I eat the banana and push the tray next to the door, then retreat to the small cot at the back of the cell with the water. I wrap myself in silence like a comfortable bnket and sit down on the cot until my guard, or captor, or whatever she turns out to be returns. The mask stays on.

  Being alone with nothing but imagination for company is something that I’m very much used to, so if they’re hoping to make me crack by leaving me isoted they’re going to be sorely disappointed, especially if they keep bringing me food. The cell, and now my eyes have adjusted I can clearly see that it is a cell, is sparsely furnished. “Featureless concrete box” was almost a complete assessment - the cot at one end has a steel toilet pan for company and not much else. There are handcuffs dangling from the frame. The pillow and mattress are… not uncomfortable. Unexpected. The door at the other end is… what? Tempered gss? It looked inches thick when it swung open earlier. About as much chance of smashing through that as any of the walls. Well then. Time to waste time. If nothing else, I'm good at that. I don't need my bass to practice. I run through my song repertoire from muscle memory, moving nothing but my fingers as they tap out the patterns on my thighs.

  Several hours pass before I hear movement again. I stop tapping my fingers and look straight ahead as the woman from earlier returns with another tray. She does something that I can’t see from my vantage point on the cot off to one side of the door and I realise that it must be the lock control as I hear the mechanism engage again. Looking at me with a slightly pitying expression, she repces the tray on the floor with her new one. I follow the tray slowly as she sets it down. There’s something else on it this time, in addition to the banana and water bottle. Equally slowly, I raise my face back up to meet hers and realise she said something. My name. It sounds strange in my ears for a moment, until I realise I’m still looking at her through the featureless mask. I tilt my head slightly to acknowledge that I heard her. It cannot speak without a mouth.

  “Do you know why you are here?” she asks, although she doesn’t come any closer than the door. I shake my head. “We do. We know all about you.” She smiles, and I suppress a shiver. What do they know? They can’t know everything, can they? And, for that matter, who does she mean when she says we?

  “Now be a good boy and eat your dinner.” She leaves, and I watch her go as passively as I did the first time. I pick up the food - same as before, plus a cereal bar - and eat quietly. I put the banana skin and wrapper back on the tray and return to the cot. I take off the mask and allow myself a moment to be very, very afraid.

  2022 September 30FridayThe next couple of days - at least I think they are days - pass in much the same way. A couple of times I’ve imagined hearing raised voices and I think other people have passed by my door, but only at night. It might just be the dreams again. I’ve been trying to sleep when I start to feel exhaustion set in, but for some reason despite being imprisoned in what looks like a fallout shelter I was no better off than before. Not that I had any reliable way to keep track of time in here. The lights seem to follow a diurnal rhythm, but I have no idea if they are accurate. For all I know, this might be some bizarre attempt by my captors to disrupt my body’s natural rhythm. Joke’s on them, my meatsuit runs on timing that more resembles mathmetal polyrhythms than the traditional human circadian. My mysterious guardian appears regurly, so I assume they’re feeding us according to the holy trinity of breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Not that I would call these meals, not by a long shot. My stomach is making angry protests on a regur basis, and I might have broken already if someone had offered me real food in exchange for cooperation. The light began brightening just a few minutes ago, so it must be morning. I stretch out my muscles, following a series of warmups that I’d learned at the boxing gym the st time I tried to get fit. I had sted two whole weeks before giving up. A new record. The stretching feels nice though, so I still do those every now and then. Someone knocks at the door and I return to sit on the cot, awaiting my healthy nutritious breakfast.

  “Good morning!” I hear the bright and breezy voice of my prison guard as I get comfortable and the faceless mask slides into pce. I take a quick account of the situation and something comes up short. No tray. Are they pnning to starve me? I hadn’t assumed things could get worse, but maybe I should have. I tilt my head quizzically at her.

  “You’ve been doing yoga?!” she excims, delighted. “We might almost have enough for a proper css soon.” I stare bnkly at her. I have no idea what she is talking about. Yoga was some kind of demonic mysticism, according to my parents. While I knew that their assessment was likely about as wrong as it was possible to be, I couldn’t have been doing it by accident. Could I? I need a mask that can talk, there are too many new and confusing things competing for my attention and I can only rationalise them so much without crification. She continues talking as I search.

  “Still don’t have anything to say? It’s ok, sweetheart, really. We aren’t here to extract information. We already have it. You can talk to us if you want, though.”

  It’s lucky I still have the passive mask on. She sounds so kind and warm that without it I might have spilled my entire life story just to make her happy. Maybe my stage mask will work. It’s able to communicate but limited in ways my complex ones are not. I slide it on carefully. Yes. This feels safe.

  “Who…” I begin, my voice feeling rough and unnatural from ck of use. “Who are you? Why am I here?” I take a moment to gather my thoughts, and that’s when I notice the object in her right hand. “What is that?”

  She loosely aims it towards me in response to my first activity around another person in several days. “It’s a taser. If you behave and do what you’re told you’ll never have to find out what it feels like to be hit with one.” She looks me up and down, measuring me, and when she speaks again it’s softly, sadly. “Perhaps you don’t understand how dangerous someone like you might be to someone like me, if you chose to not behave.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat as I realise what she means. She doesn’t know I could never do something like that. Could I? I think about the time I fought back at school. The bullies had acted with impunity afterwards, because I was the only one to face consequences. But the reason I had been the only one to face the consequences was that it was not an even fight. I had beaten them easily. With dawning horror I understand that I could hurt her very, very badly indeed. Perhaps something of that shows through the mask, because she lowers the taser and announces, “But that doesn’t matter, because you’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t… I would never…” The words stick in my throat.

  The headmaster told me what you did.

  “Say you’ll be good.”

  You’re an aggressive and violent boy.

  “I…”

  You’re just like your father.

  “Say it for me.” Her voice is soft again. She’s leaning towards me, making encouraging motions with her hands.

  “I’ll behave.”

  She straightens and cps her hands together, beaming at me. “Wonderful! I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Now…” she gestures for me to get up from the cot, and I do so with no small amount of confusion. Am I being released just for agreeing to behave myself without any awareness of the rules?

  “What’s happening?” I ask, hoping for a shred of information I can cling to.

  “I’m going to show you your room, silly.” She backs out of the cell and indicates I should follow her out.

  My… what?

  “Then, once we’ve got you settled in, I’ll take you to get some breakfast.”

  I follow her out of the cell in a daze. I don’t understand. I haven’t committed any crime, not that I know of, but still spent four nights in a bare cell with nothing but a mattress and pillow, and starvation rations for food, followed immediately by an upgrade for no apparent reason at all. I exit the cell and she indicates the direction I’m to go, remaining behind me at all times. There are doors at the end of the corridor that must be on automatic locks, because I hear them cycling as we approach. As I pass them, I see a stairway behind another set of doors on one side, but my guard nudges me the other way, down another corridor. We pass yet more double doors, and I see various items of furniture through the gss. One of the rooms looks like a dining hall, one looks like a common room of sorts. We turn left at the end and it looks like there’s another set of cells, although seemingly with a little more privacy. No all-gss doors this time.

  “Second door on your left,” she says in a cheerful voice. “Welcome to your home away from home!”

  I push on the door and nothing happens. I look back, still confused, and she is clearly trying to contain her ughter. “Biometric reader. Next to the door. Use your thumb.” Ah. I press my thumb to the sensor as instructed and there’s a click as the door untches. I push again and this time it swings open.

  I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. The room looks more or less the same as my first room in university accommodation, except the furniture looks newer. It’s all bolted to the floor, though, in case I forget I’m a prisoner here. There’s a bed in one corner with a small bedside table at the head, a wardrobe in the other back corner. A small desk with what looks like a low-spec desktop computer. A dresser and mirror. My brain attempts to make sense of it all but the comment I make turns into a garbled noise.

  “Aww, did it hurt itself in its confusion?” my guard giggles.

  “No, um, what?” I walk inside, turning to take it all in, eventually giving up on understanding anything and sitting down heavily on the bed. It’s nicer than the one in the cell.

  “Never mind,” she says, grinning. She points at the contents of the room. “Bed. Chair. Desk. Computer. Wardrobe. On the computer there’s some games installed, there’s movies, shows, books and music, and a restricted Consensus build you can use to get in touch with me if you need to ask me anything. Take a few minutes, have a look around, and feel free to get changed while I go check on the breakfast supplies.”

  She leaves, and I hear the door click shut. I sit down on the bed, my head spinning. I need to change perspective. The faceless mask returns, and things once again become muted and manageable. I look around again, this time without the runaway train of thought, and properly assess my situation. I’m still very hungry, but apart from that I don’t feel much worse than usual. I’m a prisoner, but being treated in a strangely pleasant way. I’ve visited one of Her - or His, I suppose, now - Majesty’s prisons (not as a resident, churches get some really funny ideas about taking advantage of a literal captive audience sometimes) and from what I could tell, aside from the logistics, they were just about the furthest thing from this strange experience I could imagine. There is no sink, no toilet, so I must be able to leave to go take care of the necessaries. Which means I’m not locked in. I look up. There is a camera above the door. I was wrong about the privacy. I look at the door. There is a red light next to the handle. Only one way to find out what that means.

  I get to my feet, still moving slowly, deliberately. Opening the wardrobe I see several sets of athletic wear, joggers, tees and hoodies, that kind of thing. There’s underwear and socks in the drawers. I record my observations, and pick out a few things to wear, pcing them on the bed. I move to the computer and turn it on. It boots more quickly than I expected, and I’m greeted by an array of icons on the desktop. Exactly as described. The games seem to be almost exclusively cosy games, not what I usually enjoy, but I’ve had fun pying some of them before. Not bad. The media library is, to my surprise, fairly extensive, but I don’t recognise most of the book titles. Likewise with the music, movies, and tv shows. It takes me a second to make the connection but when I do it chills me to the bone. Nothing here could possibly qualify as what might be termed ‘violent media’. Except maybe Stardew Valley. So many dead slimes. So that means… what? This is a rehab facility for violent offenders? No, that can’t be right. Not just because prison already exists. I haven’t actually hurt someone intentionally since the incident at school. So why am I here?

  A knock on the door startles me out of my reverie. Followed by my guard’s voice calling my name.

  “Are you decent?”

  I can’t respond. No mouth. I am fully covered up with the green garment anyway, so I return to the bed and sit down. The light next to the door handle fshes green and the door clicks and swings open. She begins to enter the room, looking at me with a little frown, but then notices the clothing id out on the bed.

  “Oh, I see. I’ll give you another couple of minutes.” She backs out and closes the door.

  I quickly slip into the underwear and a pair of dark grey joggers and slip out of the green smock. As I’m pulling a pin white T-shirt over my head and down I notice a small bump on my stomach that I don’t remember being there before. I give it an exploratory poke, but it isn’t hurting right now. It’s probably just some kind of bug bite and scratching those always made me regret it so I leave it alone. I choose a hoodie to go over the top, but don’t bother to zip it up. The outfit isn’t the most comfortable I’ve worn, but it’s loose and covers everything. I’ve never liked showing skin I didn’t have to. Not sure why. The door opens again shortly after I finish changing. Maybe she’s keeping a closer eye on the camera feed now.

  “Ah! Much better. I’m gd you’re getting comfortable,” she says, “let’s go and get some breakfast!”

  I follow her out of the room and she directs me with the taser, back towards the rger rooms I saw earlier.

  “This door here is the entrance to the washrooms,” she expins as we head back down the corridor. “There’s also an entrance from the common room, but that’s not accessible to you at the moment. First on your left past this point is the common room, then after that is the dining room. You can take your breakfast in either.”

  I nod, to acknowledge the information. The doors to the common room are already open so I turn and enter this new space. There are a few mismatched couches in front of a television, a couple more against another wall, a bookshelf with what looks like some small games as well as books, and several square tables with fixed seating. There is nobody else here.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll fetch you something.” My guard indicates a seat at one of the tables, so I sit and wait as she taps out what must be a message on her phone and goes to stand next to a dumbwaiter on one of the walls. In less than a minute she returns with a bowl of Weetabix and a jug of milk that is gently steaming.

  “It’s hardly haute cuisine, I’m afraid, but we need to get some fibre in you,” she says with a little chuckle that vibrates through me like electricity. Oh no. “And this isn’t dairy, it’s oat milk.”

  I pour the milk over the biscuits and leave the bowl alone for a moment to let it soften them, like I’ve done a hundred times before. It’s not a big thing, but my guard is treating me kindly and has given me a breakfast I would likely have picked out of a dozen choices. How do they know? How much do they know? How long have they been watching me? Are my housemates in on it? I stare at the bowl, hoping to read something in the swirling milk and wheat, until I’m brought to my senses as a spoon is pced on the table next to it. I pick it up and examine it.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” my guard asks, as she perches on the corner of the opposite seat. I shake my head. The cereal gradually disappears. I’m staring at an empty bowl. I gnce at the woman opposite and she seems dissatisfied, somehow.

  “So, do you feel better after some proper food?” She’s still frowning a little. I nod. “Good. You might be able to handle being told, now. Remember what I told you the first day?” My blood runs cold and I nod again, hesitantly this time. “We know. All about you. You’ve been a very, very bad boy. Do you know what toxic masculinity is?”

  Indira lets out a deep sigh as she reached the security room at the basement entrance. Nell gives her a sympathetic look from monitor duty and Christine quickly crosses the room to give her a hug. She was gd her little Sister had agreed to stay and keep an eye on things this year. The pandemic had put a serious dent in her pns to move out of the Hall with Paige, although the two of them were still adorable together and very much in love. She wouldn’t ever say it, except privately to herself, but she was a little bit gd they were still close by.

  “Thank you, Teenie. I needed that. How did things look on your end?”

  Christine pulls out of the hug and runs her fingers through her hair. “Pretty good. My big Sister is a consummate professional,” she said with a cheeky grin. “You’d never know it was your first time.”

  Indira ughs. “There was that one slip, but without context I don’t think it’ll give anything away. Things are going to get weird this year. Can you believe he actually likes Weetabix with oat milk?”

  Behind her, Nell chokes on her coffee. “You had to say that while I was drinking?!”

  “You’re right, I think this one might have some serious issues. Do we give strikes for this sort of thing?” Christine giggles.

  Indira moves to get a better look at the monitors. He was just resting on the bed, no movement. Good, she thinks. Let him stew on things for a while. She takes a look at the other feeds, where two figures were lying unconscious on their beds in the cells and a couple more were pacing, variously shouting things and pounding on the doors. She pats Nell on the shoulder. “Which one’s yours?”

  “Cell two”. She points at one of the two active boys. “Hope this one goes better than st time,” she sighs, looking a little apprehensive.

  “Nellie, I promise it will be fine. You’re much more prepared than before, you know what went wrong between you and Faye. Besides, I’m going to be on this year’s rotation with you. If there’s anything you need help with, you only have to ask, okay?”

  Christine nods in agreement. “You got this, Nell.”

  Nell reaches up and touches the hand resting on her shoulder. “Thanks, Dira. Means a lot. But, I gotta say, I kinda wish I had a quiet one like you”

  The three of them share a ugh at that.

  “I know, it’s lovely. I might not even need to do anything. I’m a little concerned about the dissociation, though. When was the st time we had one just completely shut down on us?” Indira asks, her smile fading and giving way to a pensive expression.

  “He’s not completely shut down,” Christine taps her chin thoughtfully, “it’s not all that different from when Pippa went at Steph that first time. Or maybe he has some sensory issues we couldn’t pick up from the intake data. I’ll review the recording and see what I can get from that.”

  “That… makes so much sense, actually.”

  “Yeah. At least we learned something from the st time we put a trans girl in the basement.”

  I’m stretched out on my bed, back in my room. I haven’t moved in what feels like hours. ‘My’ room. I’d ugh if I wasn’t struggling to process everything I was told. I show nothing on the outside, but internally I’m being torn apart by the words she wielded like daggers. Even without the faceless mask I wouldn’t have had anything to say. I’d been caught… stalking? I understood the concept, but I was just trying to get to know someone, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I? Yes. It’s not my fault other people didn’t understand that. I’m just trying to make friends. I’m not dangerous. Am I?

  You’re an aggressive and violent boy. I’m not!

  Just like y- no! I won’t become like him. I can’t.

  You threatened women. She’d told me about the times I thought I’d just been hanging out and waiting for someone. She accused me of being wilfully ignorant of how it made other people - other women - feel.

  Can you imagine how you might be scared if someone much bigger and stronger than you was waiting outside your home every day, staring at you when you dared step outside? I feel my eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

  Have you ever been followed home? They leave saline trails down the side of my head.

  Do you know how many women are assaulted by men who get away with it? Who ‘didn’t mean’ to take things so far? Whom society excuses time and again, even when things turn truly horrifying? I can’t stop it any more. I let the tears come.

  I’m roused by another knock on my door. I sit up quickly and examine my tear-streaked face in the mirror. Messy brown hair, check. Beard, check. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears, check. I scrub the tears away with the sleeve of my hoodie and quickly think about which mask I’m going to need. Faceless causes problems if I use it for too long. Maybe the one for dealing with teachers. Yes. Close enough. It settles into pce moments before the door opens, and I’m greeted by a new face. My puzzlement must be blindingly obvious, because the woman at the door coughs demurely to cover the start of a ugh at my expression.

  “Where’s…” I begin, but suddenly realise I do not know my captor’s name. I trail off in an embarrassed silence.

  “Indira had to go see to something upstairs, sorry. She’ll be back ter. If you need her before then just message her on the computer. I can’t promise an immediate response if she’s in a meeting, but she’ll definitely see it. Anyway, I’m Nell. I’ll be your substitute underground prison officer until she gets back.”

  I just stare at her, stunned. Faceless would have worked just fine.

  “So did you want some dinner? You’ve missed lunch, I’m sorry. It seemed you were a little, um, preoccupied and we didn’t feel it was necessary to interrupt.” Nell gives me an awkward look, the slight frown dimpling her face in a way that makes her look adorable, and makes a gesture with her free hand that’s clearly meant to encourage me to move. I do want dinner. I’m ravenous.

  “Y- yes. I think I would like something to eat,” I mumble. “And then a shower, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all. Gd you’re thinking about taking care of yourself!”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m not. It’s just the only pce I feel I can exist without a mask right now. “Sure. Um, what do I do about toiletries?”

  “We’ll put a kit together while you’re having your dinner. You can keep it in your room,” Nell says, “just let us know when something needs repcing and we’ll sort that out.”

  Well, that’s uncomplicated. Evidently nobody expects to have to deal with a soapy or minty fresh bid for freedom. We head down to the common room again, and again I sit and wait patiently while Nell fusses with the dumbwaiter and returns with a succulent-looking burger.

  “Here you go. It’s veggie, so don’t expect it to blow you away.” She pces the pte in front of me and I lift the top half of the bun to inspect it. She frowns at me. “You know we’re not going to change the order just because you don’t like it. This isn’t a restaurant.”

  For the first time in several days, I ugh. “No! Sorry! I’m just checking for pickles. Can’t stand them. The burger looks great.” Satisfied that the evil gherkin have not infiltrated my meal, I take a big bite. It’s really good. Nell shakes her head and mutters something that sounds like “opposite of that bloody meme” and I look at her questioningly. She ughs.

  “How… how on earth - do you think all the food here is good? The st batch started several fights over that veggie burger! And the less said about the Weetabix Incident the better…”

  “The st batch?”

  “Shit!” she excims, quickly spping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes roll in her head as if they’re looking for a way to ditch the dead weight and escape. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she continues, slumping in resignation, “not yet, anyway. But I don’t suppose it matters that much.” She seems unhappy, and I’d almost feel sorry for her if she wasn’t keeping me here against my will and pointing a taser at me.

  “Not really.” Another woman enters through the double doors. She’s cute, dressed in an oversized purple sweater, bck leggings and chunky trainers. And definitely confirmation of a trend. All the guards here are female - God, that makes me sound like one of those aliens in Star Trek, talking about feeeemales like they’re a separate species - and the fact that this is such an eborate operation makes me suddenly realise that of course they’ve done this before. Obvious, if you think about it. The newcomer gives me plenty of space as she walks around me to sit at the same side of the table as Nell.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Christine. I’m here to ask you a simple question. Can you wait a week for the others to be told? Or do I have to disable the lock on your door?” She scowls at me during the st sentence and I swallow reflexively.

  “I don’t suppose it would help my case at all to point out that that was two questions?” I venture, keeping my tone meek. Nell coughs. Oh no. Sass was a mistake. Nell’s scared of Christine, which means I-

  “Have you ever pyed the game Portal?” Christine replies sweetly. My face betrays me. Oh no. “Ah. I see you are familiar. Think of me as this facility’s GLaDOS. I control everything. And I am always watching. You are not a good person. You know that, right? Good people don’t end up here. Anyway, why don’t you give my request some thought? You can let Nell know what you decide when you get back to your room after dinner.”

  She gets up and casually strolls away from the table towards the exit. As she does so, I see all the door lock indicators switch from red to green at the same time. My head spins and I realise I’ve been forgetting to breathe. I look at Nell and she’s shaking. I don’t bme her. So am I. I upgrade my mental assessment of Christine from ‘cute’ to ‘terrifying’.

  “Can I-” I begin in a small voice, “can I go get cleaned up please?”

  Christine maintains the attitude all the way to the security room, where she colpses in a fit of giggles. She thinks she understands Aunt Bea on a somewhat deeper level than she did before, because terrifying a poor soon-to-be-girl out of her wits by being the human embodiment of a shitpost was really fun. She pulls up the recording and saves it to her phone, then sends it to Paige and Vicky. They’ll enjoy this.

  She’s still trying to stop herself ughing when Nell joins her. “Christine! That was evil!” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

  “How was my performance? Dira would be proud of me, I think. Or jealous. Not sure.”

  “Oh my god, I was ughing so hard I think a little bit of wee came out! And, get this, our little newbie thought I was shaking because I was scared of you. So I leaned into it, just a little. He’s in the showers now, absolutely convinced you are about to lower ser turrets through the ceiling at the slightest infraction or maybe if you just get bored.” Nell wipes her eyes, “Holy crap, I haven’t ughed like this in forever. I really needed it. Thanks.”

  “You are welcome. Now, I need to go and arrange the birthday surprise. There might be cake.” Christine deadpans, “I’d better go and let Dira know what happened, if I can manage to do it without interrupting date night.”

  Nell is waiting for me as I get out of the shower. Faceless is back. She asks me if I am feeling better now that I am clean, and I nod, mute. She nudges me towards my bedroom and my listless form takes a step, then another, then another I’m standing outside my room as she expins the lock mechanisms and how they work, how only I and my sponsors (what is a sponsor?) have access I’m sitting on my bed and all kinds of thoughts are trying to make themselves heard over the rapid beating of my heart I look up at the camera. Christine is watching me. I curl up a little tighter, as if it will shield me against her vengeance. Nell seems torn between stepping in to comfort me or keeping her distance so as to not antagonise her superior. Of course. Christine can see her just as easily. She’s calling my name. Trying to get my attention. I look up at her with my lifeless, faceless expression.

  Nell steps back and raises the taser. “I am going to need something from you now. Christine asked you a question earlier. Will you wait for the announcement in a week once all of you are present? Or do we need to isote you? Say you understand and agree if you are willing to comply.”

  I say nothing. I just nod. Nell gestures a little more aggressively with the taser. “Not good enough. Use your words or I’ll be the st person you see for a week.”

  I cw furiously at the edges of the mask, but it’s fused to my face tighter than ever before. I want to scream but I cannot make a sound. I feel skin tearing as I dig my nails into the seam and, when I finally rip it free, it feels like I’ve been fyed. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, but now I am holding a bloody mask in my hands. I hurl it across the room and for the briefest moment I am afraid it might shatter against the wall. Nell sees nothing of this. The slumped form sitting on the bed in silence doesn’t move.

  “I understand and agree.”

  “Thank you, Joel.”

  2022 October 1SaturdayI started a Stardew farm after Nell left the previous night. I just felt like I needed a distraction. Indira messaged me to check in, but it wasn’t a long conversation. I didn’t need anything and I didn’t want her reporting back to Christine that I was having problems. Sleep wasn't much of a feature of my first night in the new room.. The lights went out at some point in the middle of Spring and Summer was almost at an end by the time I started to feel my focus wandering and crashed out on the bed. Just as the lights started to brighten.

  All of which is to expin the horrible bloody headache I have this morning. What’s worse, I can’t find Faceless. I hope that doesn’t become a problem. Changing into a new set of clothes - st night’s are starting to smell - I sit down heavily on the bed, massaging my temples. If only they could give me a painkiller right now.

  Indira’s voice cuts through the quiet and stabs me right in the frontal lobe. “Christine says you can have some paracetamol if you have a headache.”

  I almost crack my skull on the wall as I jolt to awareness. I panic, looking around with wild eyes. How did she… I upgrade my definition of Christine from ‘terrifying’ to ‘eldritch abomination beyond human ken’. I have seen things like this before. My parents love to watch videos of American evangelists pointing at people and ciming that God is revealing to them their deepest, darkest secrets, followed by the target colpsing as if shot. They forced me to watch. Especially afterwards. They told me God had guided them to it. That God had told them how Wrong and Bad and Evil I was. Now I’m locked underground, with an apparently omniscient being also telling me how Wrong and Bad and Evil I am. The only tiny upside to this situation that I can think of is that God is much prettier than I’d expected.

  I hope She didn’t hear that.

  I find Respectful and put it on carefully. The torn edges where Faceless bonded to my skin still feel raw. “Please.” I croak, weak and dehydrated.

  The dumbwaiter arrives shortly with two bottles of water and two small white pills. I swallow them and drink one of the bottles. Thanking Indira, I sit down at the computer again. I can’t focus enough to py, so I just click around the desktop aimlessly. Someone knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” I call out, immediately regretting my choice of volume and adjusting the slider.

  The door opens and Indira steps in, accompanied by Nell. “Good morning,” she says, in a businesslike tone. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Pretty much normal.” I say. Indira has been nice enough, so maybe the dissembling isn’t fair to her, but I just want to get through this and get back to my farm. Or my bed.

  She smiles brightly at me and I just know she knows what I did st night instead of sleep. “I can believe that. I’m sorry, Joel, but you’ll have to take your breakfast in the social areas today. On the bright side, you’ll get to meet someone you have a lot in common with.”

  The mask slips, and before I can fix it I hear myself saying “You mean we’ve both been abducted by a suprisingly well organised gang of feminists?” The three women smirk at me. I quickly push the mask back into position. “I, um… oh, bollocks. Sorry.”

  “Never mind those,” Nell sniggers and Indira shoots her a look before continuing.

  “Anyway. Nell’s boy is being introduced to the facility today. I recommend you find a way to get along. There will be six of you going through the programme in all, and we do find that it helps participants a great deal if they can work through it with a friend. Being the first into the system is an advantage, of sorts, so try to make the most of it.”

  “Do I need to do anything in particur?” I ask, “and do I get to have breakfast first?”

  “Probably,” Nell muses. “He’s not as good with mornings as you are.”

  That was… sarcasm? I shake my head and that gives me a whole new set of sensations to regret. I feel perpetually off-bance in this situation. One moment I’m being threatened at the business end of a taser, then I’m being Perceived with a capital P by the all-powerful Christine, then my guards are joking around like we’re three girlfriends who just popped out for coffee and a danish. All while I feel like I’m several steps behind and struggling to keep up with everything that’s going on. I rub my eyes and look back at the two women standing there, looking for all the world like they’re ready for that brunch date. Indira takes pity on me first.

  “Drink that other bottle of water, you need to stay well hydrated. And then we’ll go and get some breakfast. Take a moment to wake yourself up properly, we’ll be outside when you’re ready.” She leaves with Nell, and I’m on my own for the st time before everything changes.

  Out in the corridor, Nell and Indira break off their conversation as I leave my room. Nell looks a bit abashed, but they’re both smiling, so it’s probably just some in-joke that Indira got her with. I still feel like someone’s pying the world’s longest drum solo on my skull - thinking about it, that actually sounds like something Chris would try to do, that’s why I refused to share a house with him - but I feel just about well enough to socialise as long as it’s only one other person. I ask for Weetabix and oat milk again and both women roll their eyes, but both of them are smirking again. I don’t understand what is going on, or why eating a perfectly pleasant breakfast is somehow funny. Indira taps out a message on her phone and ughs when a ‘ding’ comes from Nell’s pocket.

  Nell stands up as I finish, and takes my bowl. “I’ll tidy this for you. I’ve got to go check on the boy anyway.”

  I look up at her, and she’s smiling at me in a way that makes me feel strange. “Um… thank you?”

  “No problem. We’ll probably be back in around half an hour or so.”

  Indira adds, “Find yourself somewhere comfortable and rex, sweetie. I can recommend some good books, if you like reading?”

  I nod. “Yes, I would like that.” A twinge makes me reconsider slightly, and I raise one hand to my temple. “If this headache eases up.”

  She looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “We may have a way to help you deal with that. I’ll speak to someone ter about it. Feel free to check in on Consensus, too.” She pulls a second phone out of a pocket on her dress. “This is for you. You won’t be allowed this in the social area, because it is the social area, and you are expected to socialise. It has all the same media on it as your computer. I’ll leave it in your room while you get comfortable.”

  “Why do I need it if I can only use it in the room where I already have everything on the computer?” I ask, confused.

  Thankfully, Indira treats this as a serious question. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. For example, when you’re in bed watching a movie and you want to chat to someone without getting up.”

  I flop face-down onto the table, feeling like the world’s dumbest bag of rocks. I used my phone in exactly that way before I woke up here. “Oh. Oh God. I think the headache actually killed my brain. I think I’m technically a zombie now. Please just shoot me in the head and leave me out behind the bins.

  “No.” Indira pats me on the hand and stands up. “That’s how zoonotic transmission of the virus sets up the sequel, silly. Go and find somewhere comfy and I’ll bring you a couple of books, then you can tell me which one you like the look of.”

  I get to my feet, still a little dazed, and drop heavily onto what turns out to be a pretty comfortable couch. I burrow a little deeper into the cushions and the creation of a nest starts to make me feel a little better. Indira returns with two books, both fairly short novels compared to my usual fare. One seems to be centred around a bakery rivalry, or possibly romance, and the other is something to do with vampires. I’ve never really been into vampires, and I always liked that show that got people from all over the country to compete in various baking challenges. The times we watched it together were some of the only times my mum wasn’t angry with me. Dad hated it. I pick the bakery romance.

  Indira smiles what might be the warmest smile I’ve seen in years. “Good choice! I like this one a lot. It’s actually surprisingly popur with everyone here.”

  I smile back and settle in to read.

  Around a hundred pages ter, I’m fully invested in the upcoming Croissant Contest. I can’t help but feel the adorable lesbian baker could do better than the barista she’s obviously being set up to fall for. Like honestly, I’d be a better romantic fit for her. Aside from, you know, the obvious. I’m dragged away from the endless yearning by the sound of the door opening, and someone enters, followed by Nell, taser at the ready. He’s of average height, just a few inches shorter than me and one or two taller than Indira. He has a bit of a hipster look about him, despite being limited to the same leisurewear as I was, with his dark chocote brown hair tied in a small topknot. His beard is a little scruffy but still looks good, in the way a very well groomed beard gets when it goes without a few days of care. I look around and Indira is standing a little distance away, typing something on her phone, and as she finishes and pockets it again she draws her own taser. Nell guides her charge to one of the tables and sits him down, then takes the spot opposite just as she did with me the day before. I watch with interest over the top of my book as the newcomer looks around with the approximate enthusiasm of a sedated sloth.

  “Oh, fuck. They weren’t lying. Bore da [Good morning], fellow prisoner.”

  I put down the book in genuine surprise. “Bore? Ddim yn hir. [Morning? Not for long.]” Dad also hated that I chose to embrace my Welsh heritage over his. Naturally that just encouraged me to make even more of an effort.

  The boy’s eyes widen. “Iesu goc! T’in siarad Cymraeg? Rhys ydw i. [Jesus’ cock! You speak Welsh? I’m Rhys.]”

  Nell coughs. “Saesneg, os gwelwch yn dda. [English, please.]” She looks very pleased with herself. Rhys and I share a look, and he smirks. I’m probably making a very simir face too, because Nell looks from one of us to the other. “What? That was right, wasn’t it?”

  I bite back the impulse to reply with criticism, because despite the fact she mangled the pronunciation horribly, she had actually gone to the trouble of learning a bit of Welsh. That counts for something. “Eh. Close enough. Don’t worry, my accent’s shit too. Dad never let me speak it at home.”

  “Bastard,” Rhys says. I nod in the affirmative.

  Indira is watching this exchange with the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen in my life. I turn to her and decide to push my luck. “Indira, do you think I could get a paned - sorry, cuppa - when you get his breakfast sent down?

  She turns her weaponised smile in my direction and I am broken down into component atoms. “Since you’ve been such a good boy, Joel, I suppose I can allow it.”

  I wince - I’m going to pay for that, I’m sure - and set the book down. They want me to be social? It’s already off to a strong start, I… Oh. Oh no. She wants me to introduce myself. I take a breath and brace myself. “It’s nice to meet you, Rhys. Although it might have been nicer under different circumstances. I’m Joel.” Fuck, that was rough. I hate that name. Just another reminder of something I’d rather forget. My parents chose it, so they told me, to remind me who is really in control of my life.

  “Too right, butt,” he replies. “The service here is rubbish. How can I get someone to come take my order?”

  Nell stares him down until the dumbwaiter pings its arrival. Rhys, to his credit, just beams cheerily back at her. She gets up and brings the bowl over and Indira does the same with a warm but not hot cup of tea. I start to voice a compint, but it peters out as I realise - I am her prisoner, and she’s not going to hand over an uncovered container of boiling liquid. Right.

  “Jesus H Christ, are you lot trying to kill us with this shit? This has to be some kind of crime against humanity. What does a poor boyo have to do to get edible food around here?” Rhys compins.

  “It’s perfectly edible. I like it.” I say, as I walk over and take a seat at the table. Nell doesn’t sit back down, instead taking a position where she has a clear shot at either of us with her taser. It’s unclear whether my assertion that Weetabix is delicious makes her more or less likely to prefer shooting it at me.

  Rhys groans. “Fuck. I knew you were too good to be true. You’re a brainwashed pnt. Tell me how lovely this resort is again. Show me the creepy smile that you’ll have while you and the girlies lobotomise me during the night. Then tomorrow we can be two creepy mindless meat dolls together when the next one comes along.”

  “That might be the case,” I admit. “I’ve had the worst headache all morning, it’s probably from the hypnosis tapes they kept me up with st night.” I tap my head with a palm. Fortunately, the paracetamol has kicked in so I only feel like a small power tool is invading my brain pan. “Feels like it’s rattling around in there. You sure you didn’t remove anything important, Indira?”

  “I see we missed the ‘trying to be funny’ lobe,” she shoots back. “I’ll have to have a word with our surgeons. You boys py nice until lunch now. We’ll be here if you need us. Watch some TV together or something.”

  “Sure. Why the heck not.” I get up from the table and head over to the couches near the TV. Rhys follows me, but elects to sit on the other couch rather than share. I don’t bme him. I take up a lot of space. Flicking the screen on, I’m gratified to see it’s an episode of the baking show. Rhys looks disinterested, but it’ll give us chance to talk.

  Welcome to the #2022_Intake_Sponsor_Chat!Please limit discussion of programme participants to this channel.Lo-Fi Indira BeatsThat went well I thinkLike A Birdsorry again dira i can’t believe i said thatfeel like such a dumdumLo-Fi Indira BeatsYou’re good. Anyway there’s plenty of other things to keep them distractedLike A Birdhopefullythey seem to be getting alongLo-Fi Indira BeatsOh noI just realisedWe have to prevent Bethany from ever meeting Welsh BethLike A Birdoh godLo-Fi Indira BeatsI don’t know if even Dorley would survive a matter/antimatter reaction like thatAnywayThat’s the easy bit done.Like A Birdyeah it’s almost too easyjoel might end up doing all our work for ushes already behaving like a sponsorLo-Fi Indira BeatsI’m not sure that’s a good thing in generalSomething seems offBut if it helps the two of them bond it might work out for the bestCHRiSTiNOSMake the most of it while you can. The really interesting ones are being introduced tomorrow.Lo-Fi Indira BeatsTeenie, I know you think it’s fun but you really should stop scaring the poor boyI think he genuinely expects you to ambush him with sersTooManyChromeTabsWhat have you lot done now?CHRiSTiNOSGood news. I figured out what that thing those balls you just incinerated did.It was the morality core they installed after I flooded the enrichment center basement with a deadly neurotoxin,to stop me from flooding the enrichment center basement with a deadly neurotoxin.Lo-Fi Indira BeatsShe’s gone mad with powerCHRiSTiNOSI’m getting that on a mug.Indira ughs, quietly. She’s so proud of how her sister has blossomed in the st couple of years. She begins to close the ptop, but spots a notification popup just before doing so.

  RabiaJust wanted to let you know, the blood tests have all come back fine. Shouldn’t have any problems this year.Although something came up in Joel’s you might find interesting. I’ll be in tomorrow, speak then.Something interesting? She likes the sound of that. Closing the ptop and putting it down on the floor, she turns to face the man sat on the couch next to her. He smiles at her, and her heart flutters the way it does every single time.

  “Sorry about that, sweetheart. Just wrapping things up with the rest of the girls at work. The first week of the new academic year is always the longest.” She starts to py with the front of his shirt. “All done now, I’m having boyfriend time. Teenie will cover for me.”

  “So, today went well?” Hasan starts to say, and Indira shushes him with a finger.

  “No more work talk! Come here, my beautiful, wonderful boy.” She takes a fistful of his shirt and pulls him into a world of bliss.

  DaughterofKhaos