AnnouncementChapter specific content warnings:

  SpoilerGraphic violence, sexual innuendo, misogyny, bad nguage, transphobia, implicit racism, untransted Welsh

  [colpse]2022 October 2Sunday“Are we all prepared for today?” Indira looks around at the faces of the assembled sponsors. Everyone indicates assent, eager to get started. “Good. Joel and Rhys have already been introduced, and they seem to be bonding nicely already. We’ll use them as our anchors for the year.”

  Nell raises a hand. “What do you mean, anchors?”

  Indira smiles. “We have a slightly different intake to deal with this time, thanks to Stephanie. All of our boys,” she continues, making air quotes around the word ‘boys’, “have at one point or another explored a gender identity different to the one assigned at birth. As you all know, confirmation of that was one of the criteria for selection this year, and each one of them has engaged in that activity within the st six months. However, and I must be absolutely clear in this, it in no way makes them less dangerous until we have total acceptance of the fully disclosed programme. Maria and Tabby,” she gestures at the senior sponsors present, “can attest to that.”

  “Thank you, Indira.” Maria steps forward. “I’m pnning to enjoy my sabbatical this year, so I won’t be taking much of an active role in this year’s programme, but as usual I’ll be avaible if any of you have any questions or just need someone to bounce ideas off.”

  “Same here. This new system is going to take some getting used to. Honestly, I’m bored.” Tabby chips in. “But yeah. Some of this intake have been repressing their feelings for a long time, and you have to remember that repression is like a coiled spring. It can cause that person to get wound tighter and tighter until they explode.”

  “Thank you, Maria and Tabby. And apologies for the slight tangent to the rest of you. We have - well, Steph did, mostly - come up with an idea to minimise conflict and accelerate actualisation. Now, this may require adjustments as we go, because we’re basing this year’s strategy on the known trans girls from the previous intakes, but we believe that having a core pairing that can provide a non-threatening introduction might benefit our more… votile individuals. The pn is to introduce each of them to our anchors one at a time, in the hope that- Yes, Charlie?”

  “Sorry. Why these two? And don’t say it’s because they’re both bloody Welsh.”

  “Ah! Excellent question. Simply put, it’s because we’ve seen them both before.” Indira says. “I don’t mean literally, but they have recognisable personality traits that we feel we can leverage. And yours is still drugged and unconscious, if you were thinking about that possibility in particur.”

  “Fair point.” Charlie grins.

  “Anyway. We think that having a stable social base will prevent most of the random incidents. Especially if the calming influence is also physically the rgest and most intimidating. The senior sponsors,” she indicates herself, then Maria and Tabby, “and Aunt Bea agreed that it was worth trying. The initial stage has worked about as well as could be expected, and we will implement stage two ter today. Donna, Bel, do you need anything else or are you ready to go? Francesca, we might hold off on yours until tomorrow.” Francesca gives her a thumbs-up.

  “I think we’re good,” Donna says, looking at Bel for confirmation and getting a nod in return. “After breakfast? Or during?”

  “Let’s do one during and one after. I’ll let the two of you decide which of them to start with.” Indira cps her hands together enthusiastically, a primary school teacher building anticipation in her charges for what today might bring. “All right! Go get some breakfast, and I’ll see you all ter.”

  I’m lying on my bed, wide awake. The lights are slowly brightening. Must be morning again. I can’t stop thinking about what Indira told me the other day. It’s not fair. I haven’t done anything wrong. Sure, I’ve probably been a little bit inconsiderate at times, but that’s not anything worth locking someone in an underground prison over. And Rhys… what did he do? Why are we both here? It’s a relief to no longer be the only inmate, but I can’t help but worry about his ‘crimes’. What if they’re much worse than my supposed one? What if he’s dangerous? I need to find out, and I need to do it without provoking an attack if he’s the kind to get violent. I don’t know if Respectful is the right mask for that conversation. Perhaps Confident might be better for that. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow.

  There’s a knock on my door. The mask takes its pce and I call to the person outside. “Just getting dressed, one moment!” I pull on a clean set of clothing and the second I open my mouth to tell them it’s safe to enter the door opens.

  Oh God. Oh Jesus Fuck NO.

  Christine stands framed in the doorway, haloed by the corridor lights. My own room feels like it just became several shades dimmer by comparison, and I sit down hard on my bed.

  “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. Get ready. You’ll be meeting some more of the boys. Oh, and you really should talk to Rhys today about why you’re both here.” She turns to leave, and something seems to occur to her. “Just approach him with confidence. He’ll respond.”

  The door shuts behind her, and my soul leaves my body. It feels almost as if I bck out for a second as my brain resets, completely overwhelmed. What is she? HOW did… She knows EVERYTHING. I panic briefly as I think about it and I don’t have Faceless to reset and… another knock on the door. I bury my face in my hands and mumble weakly, “come in.”

  “Oh no, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Oh. It’s Indira. Thank God (Christine?).

  “I’m scared.” I manage, after a while. “I’m really scared.” A heaving sob escapes my grip.

  “Of what?” Her voice is soothing. Warm. I feel like I’m sinking into a pool of honey. I’m losing control. I’m drowning. I need to breathe. I need to be back in control. I need Confident.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” It slides into pce and I sit up straight. “Breakfast in fifteen?”

  “Five,” she says, drawing back and looking at me with a calcuting expression. I’ve been out for ten minutes? Unexpected, but whatever. I stand and stretch, and Indira backs out of the door, taser now in hand. “Just head on down to the common room. Rhys is already there and I’d prefer someone else to be the target of his stream of consciousness today, thank you very much.”

  “Sure.” I nod. I’d enjoyed his company yesterday. Made sense that it wasn’t the sort of thing everyone would appreciate, though. “See you down there. I’ll have my usual.” I wink at her.

  You know the expression ‘if looks could kill’? It turns out looks can do other things too. The look she gives me in response isn’t a killing look, it’s worse. It’s one that observes my corpse with professional detachment then begins the autopsy while humming showtunes. This is going to be a fun day. I might even get to find out what getting hit with a taser feels like.

  A minute or two ter, I stroll casually into the common room. Nell and Indira are standing away from the tables, and look much more alert than usual. Indira whispers something to Nell and takes up a spot a few paces away. Two other women I’ve not seen before are in position opposite them. Rhys is sitting at one of the tables, poking dejectedly at his bowl. He lights up when he sees me, and waves me over to sit with him.

  “Mornin’, butt. Sorry there’s only the same old shit for brecwast. Some kind of packing material or insution pretending to be cereal. An’ oat milk. You can’t milk a fucken’ oat. I’d know. I’m an expert on milking, me.” Four tasers snap up to point in his direction.

  He coughs and - wonder of wonders - has the decency to look embarrassed. “Mam used to work on a dairy farm. ‘Sides, you can’t make a proper tte with this shit. Oh, sure, it tastes fine,” he says, as Nell rolls her eyes at him, “but it’s not right. Whole cow’s milk or gee tee eff oh. Wait. What did you think I meant?” His smirk threatens to wrap all the way around his head. “Girls! You wound me. I’ll have you know I’m a perfect gentleman. If you’re really interested, though, check the cameras ter. I got a bit of a backlog to work through, y’know. Might go easier if I had a couple milkmaids to help, too.” The smirk turns to a scivious grin.

  “Please let me tase him, Indira! Just a little bit,” groaned Nell. “I promise I can stop any time.”

  “Help! My sponsor’s gone mad! Bel, protect me!”

  The woman standing over by the dumbwaiter gives him a dismissive look. “Not a chance. You’re the perfect target for taser drills. It’s always easier when they deserve it.”

  Rhys just continues to beg for assistance from each sponsor in turn - including Nell - and starts to flick lumps of Weetabix around with his wild filing, so I decide it’s time to step in. “Knock it off. You,” I point at Rhys, “need to dial it down with the theatrics. And you -” I wave in the direction of the sponsors, “you need to stop threatening to tase us for just talking. That’s unacceptable.” Four sets of eyebrows raise, and four tasers are now pointed at me. Fine. I start to get up from my seat.

  “SIT. DOWN.” The voice from the speakers is cold and thunderously loud. I recognise it instantly. It is the voice of God herself. Spiderwebbed cracks run through Confident from the impact of that voice. I sit. I start to fumble with my other masks to repce this one before it breaks.

  “Who… what the…” Rhys starts to speak, but is quickly silenced by the voice’s commanding tone.

  “Be quiet, Mister Morgan. It is not your turn to speak. Mister Smith,” I freeze as it directs its wrath at me, “that is too confident. Do you know what just happened? No, clearly you do not.”

  I’m staring at the table, breathing hard, searching, searching and finding nothing I can use. My hands are useless and I can’t get hold of Respectful or Sunday or any of them. The voice is inexorable, and its next words strike me with the weight of a judge’s gavel.

  “What just happened was not ‘just talking’. What just happened was sexual harassment.”

  Confident shatters into a million tiny shards.

  Christine watches the scene on the security feed as she pronounces judgement on the boy and wonders if she’s being too harsh. The sponsors had been joking about tasering Rhys, after all. At least, she thinks they were joking. She leans back from the microphone and mutes it again before letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Turning to the woman sitting next to her, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How was that?” she asks, uncertain. “Too much?”

  Aunt Bea smiles indulgently at her. “Not at all. That was very, very good indeed, Christine. I see I need not worry myself that taking just one step back will leave… a deficiency.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Bea.”

  “You’re worried that you might be going too far?”

  “Actually, yes.” Christine sags in the chair. “This… this doesn’t feel like me, you know.”

  The older woman adopts a sly expression. “And who is Aunt Bea? Is she a dragon waiting to devour recalcitrant boys?”

  Understanding dawns for Christine. “Uh… no. You’re Aunt Bea. You want the best for your girls. It’s just that sometimes getting them over a certain type of hurdle needs a… well, a particur approach.”

  “And, of course, I’m not actually going anywhere. If you need to escate anything to a higher power,” Aunt Bea says as she stands to leave, “you can always, and I do mean always, ask me for help. I’m proud of you, Christine. These boys are in good hands.”

  Christine fils uselessly, unable to prevent the compliment from slipping past her defences to strike home. She settles for blushing a deep pink. “Thank you, Aunt Bea. You’re sure I’m not being a bit…” She racks her brain for the appropriate word, “much?” she finishes, mely.

  “Not at all. They are, after all, guilty of - and victims of - the same failings that brought all my girls here. And I’ve told you a thousand times,” Aunt Bea says, pausing in the doorway of the security room, “you may call me Béatrice.”

  Christine has her doubts about ever being able to do that. She pulls out her phone after Aunt Bea leaves.

  ChristineMiss you babePaigeMiss you too cutie! Everything ok?ChristineYeah, just tired. Really don’t wanna be down here all dayI had to be mean to the babies :(I don’t know how Aunt Bea did it for so many yearsSomething about it doesn't feel rightactuallyyou’re back ter today right?I just want to order in a curry and snugglePaigeFor you I could be ;)ChristineYou used an emoticon!! For me?!I love you so much

  The world is spinning, but mercifully silent. Nobody seems to want to speak, which is a relief. I’m just focused on trying not to cry in front of everyone. I had been so sure it was right to defend someone threatened by four times thirty thousand volts of violence. I think about Christine, and how she so easily swept aside my righteous indignation to utterly break me. I start to tremble. My hands drop onto my p, and my fingers brush against something. A mask. It feels familiar. I lift it up to my face.

  Four tasers are still pointing towards me, but they are not being aimed with purpose. Rhys is looking at me with… what? Sympathy? Pity? Indira is looking at me with an unreadable expression, and as she notices me looking back she raises an eyebrow. Nell looks serious, as do the other two. Something feels wet on my fingers. They are streaked with blood. Nobody else seems to have noticed, though. I grip my head in my hands and feel the edges of the mask, ragged with pieces of skin and flesh. Faceless.

  “Mun! Are you okay?” Rhys clicks his fingers in front of my eyes. I turn my featureless gaze on him and he backs off. “Sorry, I just… uh, sorry.” He trails off and looks away.

  Nell steps forward at a signal from Indira and aims her taser at me with purpose. Indira lowers hers, and approaches to sit at the table with us. She looks like the Indira I remember from the first few days. The kind one. She looks at me and I can only meet her eyes because of the mask.

  “Joel,” she says, inspecting my face carefully. “Do you feel threatened by me right now?”

  I start to shake my head, but freeze. I nod instead.

  “Can you answer me verbally?”

  A shake.

  “Would you like to go back to your room for breakfast?”

  A nod.

  “All right, sweetie. I’m going to get up from the table now. Then you can do the same, and I’ll take you back to your room.” She turns to the others. “Let’s postpone until lunch. We can get back on track then.”

  I turn a hollow gaze on each of the people in the room, and Indira gently guides me out and down the corridor.

  ***

  “Holy shit. What the hell just happened? Who was that? How did she just… why was he so… holy shit.” Rhys bursts out, unable to contain himself any longer.

  Nell lowers the taser as the door closes behind the departing pair, and sits across from the confused boy, trusting that Bel and Donna can cover her if the situation develops badly. “That,” she begins slowly, trying to think of how to expin things without accidentally revealing something again, “was Christine. She’s the facility coordinator. This wasn’t the first time Joel has given her cause to step in. We had a little… hiccup before you were allowed in here. You do not want to get on her bad side, trust me on that. I… uh… made an error of judgement a while back that she took exception to and I ended up on her shitlist for a year. Not fun.” Nell grimaces. “And the worst thing? She was right.”

  “She was absolutely and unequivocally right.” Bel adds from her position near the dumbwaiter. “But you’re friends again now, so don’t go moping around about that old run-in all day.”

  Rhys swallows nervously. Christine sounds terrifying. Lucky for him she seemed to focus on Joel. Poor bastard. He’s still poking aimlessly at his bowl when he realises the lights in the room have grown dimmer and all three sponsors have formed a triangle around him at a secure distance, tasers out. A voice he has very recently become familiar with envelops him along with the darkness.

  “Bore da, Mister Morgan.”

  I sit down heavily on my bed, and Indira closes the door gently. She tilts her head to regard me curiously, and I stare back, expressionless. I’m not sure what I’m feeling in this moment, but I don’t feel threatened. I cannot imagine kind, beautiful Indira being any sort of threat to anyone. Then I remember she has imprisoned me, apparently without repercussions, and I’m scared again. I catch my reflection in the mirror and it looks back at me with a sickly expression. Faceless is no longer the neutral comfort it was in the past, it seems.

  Indira types something on her phone and pockets it. “Sweetheart,” she begins, “breakfast is on its way. I’m going to give you some space now, but I’ll be right outside when you want to talk.”

  I nod, mutely, and bury my face in my hands. I barely hear the door click shut. I’m left with nothing but my thoughts. Indira is kind to me, but does not protect me when I need her. Christine… my mind short circuits as I contempte the infinite. Nell is friendly and sociable, but always seems to have the first taser on target. I don’t know how to feel. I try to peel the mask away. It feels like it is already beginning to bond to my face again. I work methodically, loosening the edges. The dumbwaiter pings as it arrives bearing a warm bowl of Weetabix and oat milk and - something else? I have to get this mask off before I eat. A small blob of golden syrup sits in the middle of the bowl, slowly softening and mixing into the cereal. Faceless falls off and the floodgates open.

  I pce the empty bowl back in the dumbwaiter and clean myself up. I examine myself in the mirror and Respectful looks back at me, cautiously. I sit back on my bed and lean against the wall, my legs pulled up to my chest. Taking my phone out, I open the Consensus app.

  Joelhii’m sorrycan we talkIndiraOf courseBe right there sweetieI pocket my phone again and inside a minute there’s a knock at the door. I try to will myself to rex, but I cannot. The door opens. Indira stands there, eyes bright, with a smile that carries genuine warmth.

  “How are you feeling now?” she asks, tenderly.

  “I’ve been better,” I reply, sniffling a little. I’m ready with my apology. “I’m sorry for being such a disappointment.”

  Indira’s eyes fsh and her expression hardens. “But you’re not sorry for defending a sexual harasser with your aggressive behaviour? When you finally decide you’re able to use your words you can only use them to be self-indulgent? Goodness, that won’t do at all.”

  My mouth opens and closes a few times, but I can’t find the words to defend myself.

  “Rhys was acting out, and he knows what he said. He’ll face his own consequences. Do you somehow think that he needed you to step in and physically intimidate the women he directed his toxic behaviour at? You almost got it right, you know, if you’d just stopped at telling him to rein it in. I was proud of you for that, but then you reminded me you can be just as toxic, if in a different way.

  “You feel trapped, and lonely, and you sh out at anything you perceive as injustice. You believe yourself noble in intent even when carrying out acts of - if not cruelty - then ignorance and harm. Your little trips out with the church after the service on Sunday afternoons, for example. How many of the people that passed you in the street had their lives improved by your callous judgement?”

  The accusation stings. I’m not that sort of person. Am I? The evidence is mounting for the prosecution, and I don’t have an answer.

  Her voice softens. “But you’re not that kind of person, are you? Or, at least, you don’t want to be.”

  “...no.” I whisper.

  “You have the potential to be a good person, Joel.” Indira’s voice wraps me in silk and honey. “Once you understand. That is what we do here. We unlock that potential. We help people to become the best version of themselves. When you’re ready, you will be allowed to leave and you will have our full support behind you, once you understand.”

  I believe her. “Indira, I… I want to understand. I really do.”

  “You will, sweetie. I promise.”

  She turns to leave. A desperate thought screams across my mind. “Wait! I- I want to apologise, but I don’t think I can face anyone else right now. C-can you please tell them I’ll be back through in a little while?”

  “I will.” Indira favours me with another smile and quietly leaves. I’m left alone again and I tip my head back to stare at the ceiling as I repy what happened in my thoughts.

  A little while ter, I tentatively approach the common room. What will they think of me? How do I even go about this? Before I can argue myself out of doing it, I push on the doors. They don’t budge. I push harder. Nothing. I’m about to give up when I see Nell walk over, clearly trying not to ugh. She reaches for something beside the door and I hear the lock disengage. I look at the matching biometric pad on my side of the door and flush bright crimson.

  Nell might have been polite enough to try to cover it up but Rhys absolutely does not. “Ah, ya fucken’ twmffat!” he crows from his position on one of the couches near the TV, gasping for breath as tears form in his eyes.

  “It’s not that funny,” I point out, offended. “I was distracted. Had a lot on my mind.”

  “You have to admit it was pretty bloody funny, Joel,” says Nell. “We did make quite a big deal of showing you the many, many locks on the doors and how they work.”

  I turn a withering expression on the pair of them.

  “Don’t pout,” Indira chides as she sweeps gracefully into the room. “It doesn’t make you look as cute as you think.” I stare at her, dumbfounded, but she continues as if she’d just made an observation about the weather. “You had something to say to us?”

  I open and close my mouth a few times, unsure where to begin. I’ve been running over and over in my head what I did, what happened, who reacted and to what. I think I have an answer. “First of all, I’m not sorry about what I said to you, Rhys,” I begin, “You were out of line and I was right to call you out on it.”

  “Ehh. Whatever.” He looks uncomfortable. Did something happen while I was out of the room? Nell is giving him a meaningful look. He notices it too, because the next thing out of his mouth is “Nell, I already apologised!”

  “Not to everyone.”

  “Fine.” Rhys turns to address me. “Joel, I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that position. There. Are we okay now?” he says, a note of pleading in his voice as he turns back to Nell.

  “Water under the bridge.” I wave a hand in dismissal. Something’s wrong, but that simply isn’t my problem right now. He seems to rex as I accept the apology, though. Seeing that makes me feel better, for some reason. I take a deep breath as I prepare to take the harder step. “I’m really sorry, everyone. I’m sorry for not recognising what was happening. I’m sorry for reacting in a way that was threatening. Indira, I’m sorry for letting you down - not because I’m a disappointment,” I add, as she looks as if she might interrupt, “but because I want to repay your belief that I can be better. And finally-” I look heavenward as if in prayer, “Christine, I’m really honestly sorry. But you already know that.”

  “Oh I do, do I?” The voice comes from just behind my left ear. My soul once again departs for the afterlife.

  When I regain control of my faculties, I’m sitting on a couch. Indira is looking at me like the cat that got the cream.

  “Goodness me, what a good boy you are.” She turns to the other sponsors. “See, I told you I got the best one.”

  “Excuse me, I’m right here,” an indignant Welsh accent chimes in from the other couch.

  “Don’t give us that. You know she’s right,” Nell replies. “It’s not as if there’s stiff competition.”

  Rhys starts to respond, but Nell arches an eyebrow at him and he clearly reconsiders his options. “Hey, butt,” he eventually says, “do you wanna watch somethin’ with me? I can’t take all this meaningful conversation. I need to do somethin’ to rex, being considerate is hard fucken’ work.”

  I look at Indira, and she nods. “Lunch isn’t for another hour. Some rexation time will be good for the both of you,” she says, looking not one bit less smug than before. She turns the TV on and the sponsors give us a little space. I’m not so stupid as to assume their vigince has sckened, though.

  I settle into a more comfortable position on the couch. There’s some kind of fashion challenge on the screen. Perfect, something mindless and frothy, means I can chat without worrying I’ll miss something. “Hey. Are you okay? What happened when I left earlier?” I ask, turning to my fellow prisoner.

  “Uh. Not much. Met Christine. Pissed my pants,” Rhys chuckles. “What is she, some kind of Cthulhu? It’s like even the lights are scared of her.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I think She can read my mind. That’s not ideal,” I confess. “Freaks me out every time.”

  “Wait wait wait. Hold up. What the hell?”

  “Happened more than once. Really bloody uncanny. Now I’m trying really really hard to not think about how attractive and how much my type She is.” I hear a snrk from across the room, but choose to ignore it. “I’m like twice Her size, but all I can do when I see Her is make myself as small as possible and hope She doesn’t decide that She’s hungry. She terrifies me.”

  Rhys gives me a peculiar look that I can’t quite work out. “Jesus Christ, mun. She’s got a scary way about her, yeah, but I was mostly joking. You’re talkin’ about her like she’s some kind of ancient goddess. I can even hear you capitalising her fucken’ pronouns. Sounds like you’re having a religious experience or somethin’. That’s not normal. Indira!” he calls across the room, “I think your super special good boy is broken! Can I get a new pydate? Or some booze to loosen him up?”

  “I think you know the answer to that one, Rhys.” comes the reply from across the room.

  “Yeah, whatever, sure,” he sulks. “Anyway. Enough about all that. I wanna know what’s gotten us both kidnapped and locked up by a bunch of hot dy prison guards. They said it was because I’m toxic but I’m no Britney, that’s for sure.” He gazes off into nowhere with a wistful expression. “That biker outfit though. Hot.” He nods emphatically.

  “Hot,” I agree, “but I’m pretty sure the point of that old song was that the guys were the ones who were toxic, not her. Weirdly on theme. Anyway, what did you mean by that? I mean, they said the same thing about me but they also told me what I’d done, specifically.”

  He withdraws slightly into himself. “I… don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “You brought it up!”

  “Yeahhhh.” He scratches his head. “I did, didn’t I. Funny, that. Listen,” he says, with obvious reluctance, “it’s not that I don’t wanna trust you, but how long have you been here? A week or so, assuming we’re operatin’ on a simir timescale? Anyway, it just occurred to me that in a week you’ve gone from ‘toxic dude in need of a good kidnapping’ to ‘Indira’s goodest boy’. And it’s just weird, butt.”

  I look away. I feel guilty for… what? “She’s nice to me. And I’m not going to apologise for behaving myself in front of an arsenal of tasers. I’ve never been tased in my life. I’d like to keep it that way. But it’s fair criticism. I haven’t exactly given you much of a show of good faith. So… here goes.” I take a breath and get ready to tell the boy sitting across from me everything. “I was stalking someone, according to Indira. I swear I didn’t mean for it to be taken that way, but she says that it doesn’t much matter whether I intended to or not. The fact is, I frightened someone to the point they didn’t feel able to live their life normally, and I didn’t even notice. I wouldn’t have known to stop.” I feel my eyes beginning to well up. What’s that about? I’ve been all over the pce emotionally in the st couple of days. I wipe them and try to look at Rhys.

  “Mhm, yeah, cool. Then what?” he says, distractedly.

  “What?” I jerk upright and look at him properly. He’s staring intently at the fashion show. I’m so mad, I have to take Respectful off to be properly outraged. “You’re not even listening? I just drop a full confession and you have no time for it because you’re watching… this bullshit?” I wave angrily at the screen, and out of the corner of my eye I notice the sponsors paying close attention. I make what I hope is an appeasing gesture that will prevent the next thing I notice from that side of the room being multiple tens of thousands of volts of electricity. “What’s so fascinating that you couldn’t give me ten seconds of attention, anyway?”

  He jolts as if he’s been tased. His eyes dart to me, then back to the screen, then back to me. “Um,” he expins, succinctly.

  I look towards the screen and see a stunning red-haired woman modelling some daring and borderline scandalous eveningwear accompanied by delighted noises from the hosts. She winks at me. I shut my eyes tightly. Not at me, at the camera. I open my eyes once more, cautiously, and they meet those of the boy on the other couch.

  “Um.” Rhys ventures, again. He holds a hand out towards the TV, palm up, presenting Exhibit A in the investigation into Why That Arsehole Wasn’t Paying Attention To My Heartfelt Confession.

  “Yeah. Okay. I forgive you,” I say. “That would distract almost any guy I know.”

  He ughs. “God, yeah. That dress was lush. And her hair! Fuck. Is it weird if I say I kinda wanted her to strangle me with it? Yeah, nah, right, okay, it’s weird. What a way to go it would be, though…” He stretches out on the couch, presumably lost in a fantasy of dies with long red hair and an inexplicable willingness to indulge his strangution kink.

  I’m willing to overlook that unfortunate mental image, however. A more pressing question has just imprinted itself on my brain. I must have taken Indira’s lesson to heart and become much better at seeing things from a different perspective. Why else would I be thinking about what it would feel like to be her?

  Lunch arrives at the promised time. We don’t revisit the topic of confessionals again, instead contenting ourselves with a friendly discussion about music, at which the sponsors perk up and join in, a little. Apparently they’re almost all Swifties. I’m no music snob, I can recognise talent when I hear it, but it’s just not my thing. I prefer my pop with more of a punk fvour. Indira promises to give some of my recommendations a listen and maybe get them added to the media library if they’re suitable, the thought of which makes me very happy. Bel brings the food over to our table. It’s the thick vegetable soup again. Delicious. It’s when she comes back with the third bowl that I start to feel apprehensive. Rhys shares a look with me, and we both prepare ourselves for what must be the next arrival.

  The doors open, and Donna nudges a lean, but well defined, blond boy into the room. He’s pale to the point of looking washed out, and he’s almost as tall as I am, but his build puts him several weight csses below. He’s dressed the same as the two of us who are already seated, but has forgone the hoodie. Perhaps he thinks that showing off some muscles will discourage anyone looking for a fight. Poor guy hasn’t yet realised that tasers are much more off-putting. Donna guides him over to our table, and indicates for him to sit and eat. Rhys, to nobody’s surprise except perhaps the newcomer, is the first to speak.

  “Sh’mae, mun,” he begins, but is interrupted by a warning cough from Nell. “Yes, Nell, I know, I’m trying. How’s it goin’? I’m Rhys. This meat mountain next to me is Joel.”

  “Hi,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” the newcomer says. “It’s the white Barry White. Say something else, White Barry.”

  No. Not again. I can’t do this again. It’s the same everywhere I go. I can’t get away from it even by being abducted and thrown in an extrajudicial prison. I make a few friends. Someone attaches a nickname to me. I can’t be me any more. I’m only the nickname. I cover Respectful with Faceless. I can’t lose my temper. I can’t. Indira looks at me like she’s just figured something out.

  “Oh, for… Don’t be a dickhead, Daniel.” Donna growls, and her tone clearly does something to the boy, because he shrinks in his seat.

  “Gotta say, it’s a refreshing change to see someone actively lookin’ to get tased.” muses Rhys. “I’ve never seen it happen before. Me, I’m a perfect gentleman. Never any fear of me catchin’ one of those. My esteemed colleague is the girls’ favourite, so they won’t tase him even though I’ve been asking really nicely.”

  Daniel just looks confused. “Then why… why are you even here, you little shit?”

  “Ah, well, that’s a long and complicated tale involving my Mam and several head of stolen dairy cattle. So anyway, there we were, racing down the valley in our hotwired- Ah, long story short, though, I done fucked up and got caught. Joel here’s the same. Whatever it was we didn’t mean to do we did, in the wrong pce, at the wrong time, bish bash bosh, woke up here in Girlboss Gitmo. What’s your story?”

  “Don’t have one.” Daniel mutters.

  Donna smiles, and it doesn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. “Sure you do. Tell them about your podcast.”

  The boy looks up at her angrily. “Fuck off! That’s nothing to do with me! I was just co-hosting, it was my friend’s idea!”

  “Oh, was it really? What was it called again?”

  “Fuck you!” he yells, adding under his breath, “...bitch.” Rhys leans forward eagerly, anticipating a show.

  Donna raises the taser. “Language, Daniel. I won’t warn you again.”

  “Oh, for fu-” he starts to say, but stops himself and pces his hands ft on the table in front of him. “Sorry. Please don’t tase me again. I’m sorry, Donna.”

  “See? You can keep it under control. Now eat your lunch and get to know your new friends.” Donna smiles and lowers the taser. I notice that Nell and Bel have not. Daniel doesn’t, though, and picks up his spoon in a grip that clearly betrays his intent. I see two paths branch out in front of me. On one path I remain Faceless and my inaction leads to a twitching pile of boy which, given that the table and seating he currently occupies are bolted to the floor, might cause serious injury. On the other, I expose my weakpoint and try to de-escate, which will almost certainly cause me harm.

  “Don’t fucken’ do it, mun.” I’m pulled back into real time. Rhys looks tired, and he’s pced a hand over Daniel’s - the one holding the spoon. “It’s not worth it. Two of ‘em still got a clear shot on you.” He points at Bel, then Nell. “Nellie, you’re too fucken’ good at this game. How’s a d supposed to escape when there’s no gap in the patrols?” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I did this. I was so lookin’ forward to seeing a real taserin’ too. I’m never gonna get my birthday wish.”

  Daniel flinches at the touch and starts to pull his hand free, but looks around, following where Rhys is pointing. He sees both tasers pointed directly at him and somehow pales even further. He swallows the lump in his throat. “Uh, thanks.”

  Rhys releases his hand and gives it a friendly pat. “Dim problem, mun. We gotta look out for each other. That includes not lettin’ each other get tasered even if you think it’d be really, really funny. And,” he says, raising his spoon in his other hand, “this soup is actually very good. Not as good as a proper cawl, but it’s tasty. You’d kick yourself for missin’ out.”

  I sit, mute, watching the two of them eat. Indira is talking to Nell and gncing over at me periodically. Nell's expression is smug, but she changes her focus from Rhys to me and it gives way to a more serious look. She says something to Indira. Indira nods, and comes over to stand behind me. Daniel looks stricken, but I have no idea why.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Why don’t you just rex, hmm? You need to eat. Nobody will be rude to you. I’ll make sure they’re not.” She pces her hands on my shoulders. I like the feeling. It’s calming.

  Daniel gres at her with… distaste? Why would someone dislike Indira? She kidnapped me and I can’t dislike her. “Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything. So I gave him a nickname, what’s the big deal?” He sniffs dismissively. “If he’s such a pussy he can’t handle a few simple wor-”

  Indira cuts him off. “You have no idea how lucky you are that he is trying his absolute hardest right now to be a good boy for me. Did you notice him shut down when you called him that name? Because I did. And now I know how he’s been keeping everyone safe for the st six years.”

  “Safe? From what?” Rhys asks, as Daniel prepares to counter.

  Indira doesn’t let him. “Before he learned this trick, he had a… different reaction to that thing you did. That thing you cim isn’t a big deal.” She pauses for a moment, and squeezes my shoulders gently. I think I get what she’s trying to communicate. I’m sorry for this. “We have copies of the hospital records.”

  “So what?” Daniel spits. “I don’t see how this weaksauce dipshit hurting himself because someone called him names matters. Get him therapy so he can cry it out or whatever.”

  I can’t see what Indira does, but both he and Rhys lean back slightly, and her next words fall on me like rocks. “They’re not his records,” she says.

  I’m fifteen years old and I’m in school. I make myself as small and as insignificant as possible because every day is a challenge to see how long I can survive without being attacked. Mostly it’s verbal, because this year I’ve been growing a lot and the bullies are starting to have second and third thoughts about assaulting someone almost twice their size. I fought back just the one time, st week, and I’m still being punished both here and at home for it. Because you can have your ego broken down to nothing several times a day, every day, for years with no repercussions, but if you ever give someone a bruise in retaliation you are Wrong and Bad and Evil. Everybody keeps telling me that. I’m sitting outside the headmaster’s office, next to my father. He’s looking at me with an odd mixture of pride and fury. James and his parents are in the office talking to the headmaster. The door opens. A boy walks out wearing a neck brace. His parents shield him from me as he jeers and taunts me. I close my eyes and drift, blocking my senses. The taunts fade. A sharp sp on the back of my head brings me back to reality and my head swims briefly. My father tells me to get up and follow. I do so. We take a seat in front of the headmaster’s rge oak desk, and he proceeds to expin how Wrong and Bad and Evil I am. He tells me about how the doctors thought the boy that just left had been in a car crash, due to the severity of the whipsh. He demands to know what excuse I could possibly have for such extreme violence. I try to expin what happened. He tells me that since I have no record of poor behaviour, I will only receive a week’s suspension for this, but any further misconduct at all will result in my immediate expulsion. The trip home is spent in a daze, and the next week is pure hell. My father resents having to take time off work ‘to maintain discipline’, he says, and as I’m lying awake at night I can feel where he worked out his resentment all over my body.

  “...sixty miles per hour?” Rhys is asking Indira. He looks genuinely shocked. “That’s nucken’ futs. I know he’s a big d, but… Jesus Christ. I’m really fucken’ gd he seems to like me.”

  I feel her gently massaging my shoulders, and I start to rex. “He really is a nice boy, most of the time,” she says. “We just think names can be a trigger for him. Yes, Daniel, trauma triggers are real. And you can be gd he’s learned to change how he reacts to them. Dissociation isn’t exactly good, and we will be working on that, but it’s safer for everyone else around him than explosive emotional outbursts.”

  “So, uh, what the hell are we supposed to do? Stop calling him by his own fucken’ name?”

  “No, dumbarse,” Daniel replies, “his real name’s fine.”

  I know Indira felt me tense at that. She gives my shoulders a little extra squeeze. Carefully separating Faceless to leave Respectful in pce, I begin to expin. “Well, actually…"

  The conversation doesn’t go as badly as I feared. I tell them that - unlike nicknames - I am more accustomed to dealing with hearing my given name, so as long as it’s not overused, there won’t be problems. I also tell them the meaning of my name, and how my parents used it to keep me under control. The two boys are nodding along, seeming to understand. The sponsors make sympathetic noises at the appropriate times, so I’m pretty sure they get it too. Nell seems especially sad. It’s not clear to me why that is.

  After we finish our lunch, Bel leaves, and we move back over to the couches. I want to read my book some more, but I’m happy to stay in the little group that’s formed. The other two watch TV, and chat, and I can’t help but feel a little bit jealous. I remind myself that it’s only because I decided to read instead, and the feeling passes. Soon enough, the baker and the barista are developing the kind of romantic tension that makes me want to push their heads together and yell at them to “just kiss, you useless idiots!”

  It’s only when I notice the two shocked faces staring at me from the other couch that I realise I said that out loud. I gnce over my shoulder and Bel is standing behind a shorter, chubby, dark-haired boy who looks like the starvation rations of the first week haven’t really done much for his shape. He seems just as surprised as the two on the couch. Nell is doubled over wheezing and Indira is patting her on the back to try and help her recover, although she and Donna are wearing the biggest shit-eating grins ever and looking right at me. Rhys and Daniel turn slowly to stare at each other, horrified, and scoot apart to opposite ends of the couch to achieve maximum no homo.

  “Who… who are you talkin’ to, butt?” Rhys asks in a faltering voice, practically perched on the armrest. He looks ridiculous.

  I blush deeply. That was so embarrassing! “Uh. The book. Sorry. I got a bit too into it.”

  “Thank god.” He plops down onto the couch cushion proper. “I’m not into blondes and I don’t think I could stop you if you wanted to force the issue.” Daniel tries to back away even further, stopped only by the very clear desire he has to not fall on his arse in front of everyone.

  Bel directs her charge to sit and face the three of us. “This is Kyle. Get to know each other while I go chat with the girls.”

  I wave. “Joel. Don’t wear it out.”

  Daniel stares the boy down with knotted brows, but eventually concedes his name. “Danny.”

  “And I,” Rhys stands up and proudly decres, “am Captain Jack Aubrey. Napoleon is master of Europe. Only the British fleet stands before him. Oceans are now battlef-” I crack my neck and shoulders - “okay I’m sorry I’ll be good please don’t simute another high-speed accident I need my bones,” he finishes in a rush, pretending to hide from me behind the arm of the couch. “Rhys ydw i.”

  I’m taken aback by the apology. “Oh my God, what’s the matter with you, you absolute weirdo? I was just loosening up because I haven’t moved in a while. I’m not going to attack you, pendafad.”

  The new boy looks on, fascinated by the exchange. “What do you mean, another high-speed accident?” he squeaks nervously. I look away. I don’t want to revisit it again so soon.

  Rhys must notice my discomfort, because he comes to my rescue. “Long story, mun. But I’m nice so I’ll give you the short version. Our friend here got upset once, a long time ago. Only time he’s lost his temper, apparently. Got in a fight at school. Hit the kid so hard the doctors thought he’d been in a car crash. He deals with it better now, but here’s some free advice. Don’t give him a nickname.”

  The boy’s eyes grow wide with fear. “Is he… dangerous?”

  “Not anymore, at least as far as we know. Me, I’m not riskin’ it, though.” Rhys gets off the other couch and sits next to me. He pats my leg. “Right, butt?”

  I turn, awkwardly. This feels weird. Not bad weird, just… you know. Weird. “Right. Sorry, Kyle. I don’t like to talk about it and I’ve already been through the story once today.”

  Kyle shivers. “Okay. I won’t make a thing of it.”

  “Appreciate it.” I smile at him and he… blushes. What?

  “Your voice…” he says. What about my voice? Oh no, not again. He was just told not to-

  “...is really fucking hot.”

  #2022_Intake_Sponsor_ChatPlease limit discussion of programme participants to this channel.Aerial Faith Ptes will be installed next Wednesday.Like A Birdwell who could have seen this comingBelI promise I didn’t knowLike, we know he’s interested in boysbut this was unexpectedLo-Fi Indira BeatsWe got luckyThere’s a lot of extreme homophobia in Joel’s backgroundNot from him specifically but you never know how it’ll come outLike A BirdfairLo-Fi Indira BeatsHe was mostly too surprised to do anythingI talked to him about it back in his room and he’s not upset, just confusedHe doesn’t understand how people can find him attractivebecause his self-image is basically a shapeless blurDonna Even Think About ItBreakthrough?Lo-Fi Indira BeatsNot yet. He’s going to have to unlearn so much nonsense, that poor boyHow are yours doing?BelPretty much fineTalked about how he should maybe try to read the room before flirtingTook it well enoughDonna Even Think About ItNot great, but better than before lunch. He’s still a dickheadbut now he’s realised he’s not the biggest fish in the pondHonestly, I’ll take itYou were rightGiving them someone scary they’re all trying their hardest to not piss off really workedLike A Birdi’m not sureDonna Even Think About ItWhat do you mean?Like A Birdoh no not thati mean rhyshe’s justi don’t knowlike he seems so chill and literally will?? not?? shut?? up?? in a group when he gets goingbut i get him on his own and he goes super quiet sometimesi know i said i wished for a quiet one but it worries me a bit Lo-Fi Indira BeatsKeep an eye on that. It’s not a major worry this early, but we should still be vigintThanks everyone, good work todayMake sure you get some proper sleep tonight. Tomorrow’s going to be the tricky oneCHRiSTiNOSI might give the morning briefing a miss thenPaige is back tonight[??9][??9]CHRiSTiNOSrude2022 October 3Monday“Good morning! I hope everyone slept well.” Several yawns answer Indira as she opens the folder and leafs through the pages until she finds the one she’s looking for. “I’d like you all to take a look at the notes we’ve made for today’s pnned introduction. Francesca, if you would?”

  “Thanks, Dira. So, this one’s going to be a bit of a wildcard. The only intake this year with a violent assault on his record - sorry, adult record. You can expect physical reactions to be the first and probably only option coming from this one. I think we can avoid a washout, as long as we can keep him from targeting the other boys, but he’s going to be in and out of the cells until he concedes defeat. Kyle is at particur risk here, so be extra vigint when the two of them are in the same area.”

  “That’s right,” Indira says. “We’ve been extremely fortunate so far that none of the current intake have seriously questioned the concept of being abducted and held against their will - I worry about the day we have to open that can of worms - but we expected a degree of resignation or passivity from three of the first four. Less so from Daniel, but the anchor system worked and he’s just going with the flow. What concerns me the most is how the social lines form after today.”

  Donna frowns. “Are we sure he’s ready to be introduced?” she says.

  Maria nods. “It needs to be done. It’s been a while since you all had to deal with typical first week drama, but if we wait too long there’s an increasing chance he won’t bond with anyone.”

  Charlie interjects, concern in their voice. “On that note, I think we should bring mine forward to tomorrow.”

  “That sounds reasonable enough.” Indira agrees. “It’s not likely to be as much of an issue, given the situation, but if you think the timing works I see no problems with it. As long as everything stays on-script today, of course.”

  “When have things ever been on-script in this bloody funhouse?” Charlie retorts, and the room erupts in peals of ughter.

  I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. I’m still processing what happened the day before. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m not interested, I don’t like boys that way, but I feel like I’m being pulled in multiple directions at once. My parents and my church insist I have to decry the sin immediately, condemning the poor fool deceived by the devil into a life of deviance. My school bullies say I have to physically respond, to deny the suggestion of weakness implied by the acceptance of homosexuality. And then there’s me. I don’t want those people and how they think to rule my life any more. I think about the times I refused to have anything to do with people when I learned who they loved, and how many more friends I might have had if not for that behaviour. It’s another toxic trait. I picture it as a slimy, malignant growth on my soul and without any further thought I grasp it and cut it free. I shudder at the feeling, but feel lighter somehow.

  I take an early shower, enjoying the peace and quiet. I start to hum, then to sing snippets of my favourite song parts. Singing is one of the only pleasures nobody cared enough about to deny me. Even my father allowed it, when he saw how his church venerated the ability to carry a tune. I finish up, wrap a towel around myself, taking care to avoid irritating the bug bite which still hasn’t fully gone down (annoying), and gather my wash kit to head back to my room. I exit the stalls and I’m surprised to see Kyle, shifting from foot to foot nervously, examining his toes with extreme care.

  “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low so as not to startle him. “Are you okay?”

  The smaller boy lets out a non-verbal squeak of arm. “Aah! Sorry! I- I- I-”

  “Oh hey now, it’s okay, rex. Listen, I’m sorry I was weird about things yesterday. You, uh, kinda caught me off-guard with that comment.”

  He blushes again. God, what is even happening here? “Uh, I... Um. Okay. I just, uh, didn’t want you to stop because of me. Um. You sound even better when you sing.”

  “Thanks,” I ugh, “I’ll take that compliment.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for? You like my singing, oh no, however will I cope. Look, this is a win for me. Let me have this.”

  He smiles weakly at my joke. “Bel said I should work on learning when it is and isn’t appropriate to flirt.”

  I smile back at him, to make sure he knows I’m not upset. “Now is fine. Fair warning, I’m not used to being flirted with. I don’t think I’d even know if it was happening, to be honest.” I point finger guns at him with my free hand as I head out of the washroom. “See you at breakfast!”

  The hours before breakfast pass without incident, and soon enough I'm back in the common room with the other boys. The four of us chatter idly over our Weetabix, the other three united over how much they despise the delicious brown sludge. Our sponsors are letting us have our space, although they remain alert. It’s a pretty nice deal. I’m eating better than I was outside, and somehow I’ve actually got more of a social life. Just about the only thing I miss is my music. Listening to stuff I like - or, in the case of the majority of the music on here, stuff I can tolerate - is fine, sure, but nothing is better than pying, for me. Maybe I should ask Indira ter if they have my stuff so I can get my instruments back. My new friends seem retively at ease with the arrangement too, if not to the same extent as I am. Rhys is holding court, insofar as a jester can be the one to do so, as usual. Kyle is… well, he looks away and buries his face in his hands every time he notices me looking at him. He seems to enjoy pying along with Rhys’ capering, though, so I assume he’s doing about as well as he usually is. Daniel -

  Huh. Maybe Daniel isn’t getting along as well as I thought. He’s engaging on the surface, but he seems to still be looking for something. A way out? If he finds one, I’m going to have to be honest with myself. Would I even want to leave? Maybe if I find out more about ‘the programme’ I’ll be less inclined to go along with it, but right now, I’m comfortable enough that I don’t care. Still, there’s no reason to not get along with him. He switched his attitude pretty quickly when confronted over the nickname thing.

  “Hey, Danny, Donna said you hosted a podcast? Man, props to you for putting the work in. I tried once, got through exactly half an episode before I realised I liked pying Magic more than talking about it.” I say, hoping that talking about an interest of his will help loosen him up a bit.

  “Wait, you py Magic too?” Kyle excims. “What’s your colour identity? Who’s your-” He cuts off as Bel shushes him gently from behind Daniel. He settles back down, but I can’t help but feel that something in his brain is outputting a string of keysmashes as he stares at me, rapt.

  Daniel scowls and grips his spoon tighter. He’s not thinking of attacking someone to try to escape now, is he? Maybe I should put a stop to this before-

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He sets his jaw as if ready for a fight.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Just thought we might have something in common. If I’m gonna be stuck here it might as well be with people I can get along with, you know? But hey, you respected my need to not have a nickname and I can respect your need to not talk about certain things. I won’t ask again. Just know I’d be happy to listen when you’re ready.” As I finish speaking I notice the sponsors are all giving each other Significant Looks and for a second I wonder what on earth I said to make them react that way.

  Daniel interrupts my train of thought. “I- thanks, man,” he says, defting slightly, “it just feels like we’re under so much pressure.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m genuinely baffled. Sure, I’ve had rough moments here, but compared to how things were going before it’s a significant improvement.

  “We have to agree that everything we did before was bad and wrong. We get tased if we don’t. We get this mockery of freedom if we do. I’m just tired of it,” his voice rising to a yell at this point, “and it’s only been a fucking week!” Donna starts forward, but Indira puts a hand on her arm and she stops. “These bit- women,” he quickly corrects himself, no doubt imagining taser darts embedding themselves in his back, “are emascuting us and calling it rehabilitation!”

  My blood runs cold. What does he mean by that?

  “I was just stating facts. Everyone knows them. It’s the way it is. That’s the podcast I was co-hosting. The Way It Is. Except every time I don’t deny the truth, like how men are just stronger than women, or how they’re selling us pntburgers packed full of estrogen, or that women are entitled to their own single-sex spaces, I get a sodding taser to the nuts! Donna is pying my own fucking voice back to me episode by episode and asking me if I agree with what the recording is saying, and then if I don’t change my mind I get punished! I can’t take this anymore!”

  He looks like he wants to boil over, or maybe cry, but he’s fighting it. The other two are looking at him with concern, but none of us move to comfort him. I feel lucky in this moment that Respectful is in its usual pce. It keeps me from doing anything foolish to the boy who just parroted some of my parents’ favourite shibboleths at me. Indira’s voice is the next to break the tension.

  “How is Donna punishing you, Daniel? We have guidelines for our behaviour too, and she has to justify any approach she takes to the senior staff here.” I’m dumbfounded. Even Indira doesn’t know what her fellow sponsors are getting up to out of sight of the rest of them? Maybe they’re not as organised as I thought. Maybe Daniel’s right, and there is a way out.

  The blond boy shuffles in his seat awkwardly. Indira presses him for an answer. “Out with it. If you’re being deliberately electrocuted in the specific location you described earlier, you need to tell me. That’s far beyond acceptable.” Donna looks like she wants to argue, but Indira quiets her with a simple touch again. Oh, no. No no no. I was completely and utterly wrong. They’re light years ahead of us at every step. Indira knows exactly what she’s asking him for, she just wants him to admit it in front of everyone. She's picking him apart piece by piece. Which, I realise to my rising horror, implies they’re doing the same to all of us. I need to get back to my room as soon as possible, and try to figure out how to keep myself safe.

  “Daniel.” Indira’s tone is no less pleasant, but there’s a note in it I’ve heard before. A core of solid, indestructible titanium. She will get what she wants, or you will break yourself on her.

  “Donna… she… Fine! She gives me essays to read and turns all my entertainment off until I finish! I can’t even py a stupid game to escape this fucking nightmare!”

  “And you think that this is somehow cruel and unusual? As opposed to, say, educational?”

  “They’re all full of lies! Just a bunch of women making shit up to take rights away from men!”

  “Daniel,” Indira’s still sounding patient. How she’s tolerating this, I have absolutely no idea. “Have you actually read any of these essays?”

  He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. He looks like a goldfish, although I’m beginning to suspect a goldfish might have a better chance of winning this argument. “Well, no! I don’t need to! They’re bullshit! Facts don’t care about your feelings!”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Indira says. I always thought of that word as a term of endearment. I never realised it could be wielded like a weapon. “I’ll make you a deal. Donna can pick one of the essays for you to read. You will read it. After you’re done, the three of us will have a little chat -” Daniel starts nervously at that, “and you’ll answer some questions we have for you. Then, and only then, if we’re satisfied you’ve given it your best effort, I will ask Christine to give you access to the rest of your computer. Say you understand and agree.”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  Indira smiles at him, perfectly nicely, and he shrinks back in his seat.

  “O- okay… I understand and agree.”

  She cps her hands together, every inch the enthusiastic primary school teacher once more. “Good! Thank you, Daniel. And the rest of you - stay put for a while, we have someone else for you to meet.”

  “Oh! Speaking of, I’d better go see if he’s finished his breakfast.” says a woman I hadn’t even noticed come in, I’d been so intent on seeing how Daniel responded to Indira. She seems nice. Cheerful, even. Nell’s smiling at her. Friends? Or something more? I don’t like the idea of staying here as long as this. I feel like I need to get out, but I’m not going to have the chance any time soon. Might as well get on with finishing that book.

  It’s not long before the mystery sponsor returns, face set in a fierce scowl. I think perhaps I misread her before. Or perhaps she’s just much more comfortable around women than men. She’s pushing a boy forward and he really doesn’t want to go where she wants. He’s evidently not quite willing to be tased for his defiance, though, so he eventually gets steered to one of the tables and unceremoniously sat down. He stares angrily at each of us in turn, maybe to establish his dominance? I don’t like this. It’s too simir to the bullies I knew at school. He looks like he works out a bit, too. I introduce myself quickly and slip Faceless on, to ensure I don’t react to anything badly. I see the sponsors have taken a much less rexed position than when any of the rest of us joined our little rehab group. I can’t help feeling this is going to go so, so badly.

  Rhys, predictably, is next to speak. “Hey, mun. My name’s Rhys.” He extends a hand and the other boy just sneers at him. He pauses for a moment, then withdraws the hand. “Well. That’s rude.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Thomas. Behave.” The new sponsor even sounds different now. I really did get the wrong read on her.

  “Make me.”

  “You’re here to meet the rest of your group. Get on with it. I can tase you after, if you still want.” Her expression is steely and I have no doubt at all in my mind that she has followed through on that threat before.

  “Fucking bitch,” he mutters, under his breath. She heard him. For sure. I am absolutely positive she’s less than a second away from pulling the trigger when he continues. “Tommy. My name’s Tommy. Only my mum calls me Thomas.”

  “Danny.”

  “K-Kyle.” The new boy turns to look him over, a predatory gleam in his eye. Uh-oh. This is bad.

  “What have we got here? Some little faggy boy to show us how we should be acting?” he asks. The sneer is back.

  He’s found a victim. It’s all too familiar to me, I can’t deal with this. I turn away. Angry words are being exchanged behind me, but they wash over me, just white noise against the screaming in my mind to get out, get away, be anywhere but here. I stand, silent, and walk to the door. Something hits me in the side of the head, hard. Hard enough to dislodge the mask and uncover the one that had wormed its way underneath. The one I thought I'd lost years ago.

  Indira keeps a close eye on the new addition to the group. He’s going to really shake things up, but they’re ready for almost anything. None of the other boys seem to be the sort to get physical, and there’s five sponsors in the room. They can handle it. She hears Tommy taunting Kyle and looks over at the boy in her care, the one she’s personally responsible for. He’s withdrawing, she thinks. He’s facing away from the argument and unresponsive. Not ideal, but better than the alternative.

  “What the fucken’ hell? You’re in here at the business end of a taser and you think you can throw your weight around? Fucken’ saes. Think you’re the biggest girthiest floppiest dick in every room. Breakin’ news, dickhead. You’re not. Indira is. And she’s got a boss. You ain’t shit.”

  Indira draws her taser, and signals to the other sponsors to be ready. She’s gratified to see they’re all on the same page already.

  “Fuck you! Fucking sheep-shagging cunt!” Tommy screeches, pulling himself out from under the table. “You wanna go? I’ll fucking kill you!”

  Indira is ready to take him down, but notices sudden motion from an unexpected source. Daniel springs up from the couches and tries to grab Fran’s taser. Fran, bless her, is not going to be caught out that easily and discharges her weapon directly into Daniel’s belly. He falls to the ground, twitching. Bel and Nell rush over to their respective boys to keep them from doing anything stupid. The distraction means none of the sponsors are aiming at Tommy as he turns and sprints for the door, only to find someone in the way. Joel was trying to leave. He’s trying to de-escate the only way he knows how. She’s going to have to do something to fix this rigid way of thinking he has.

  Indira looks on as Tommy throws a fierce right hook into the side of her poor boy’s head, which rocks it hard as he had no warning, no chance to brace for or mitigate the blow. Time seems to stop for a second as everyone takes in the scene. Her boy turns around slowly to stare at his attacker and Indira’s breath catches slightly. His eyes are dead, and his expression is horrifying. It’s almost as if he’s become something else entirely. Something inhuman. Its attacker puts up a hesitant defence for a second before the creature wearing her boy’s face clenches its fists and grins wickedly. Tommy is clearly confused by the ineffectiveness of his punch, stumbling backwards fearfully as it advances on him. She can’t let him do it. It growls, a guttural, animal noise, and charges. She fires.

  I’m lying curled up on the cold, hard floor of a featureless concrete box. It’s dark. It’s hard to think. I’m wearing… not my clothes? Something loose. A hoodie. A T-shirt. Joggers. I check my masks - one is missing. Concerning. I choose Faceless, still with its scraps of skin and flesh hanging from it, but before I put it on I notice the girl with hair the colour of blood is visiting me again. She stares sadly at me, the glimmer of tears in her eyes. I feel like I made a terrible mistake, some time ago. I try to remember what it was. I look down, unable to meet her eyes any longer. I hear voices approaching, and discard Faceless in favour of Respectful. They probably want to talk. I look back up, and the girl is gone. Indira and the new sponsor reach the door of the cell.

  “I’ll be here if you need any help, Franny. You got this,” I hear Indira say to the other woman.

  “Thanks,” she replies, “I wish I didn’t have to tase him quite so often. I’m doing my best here, but I really am worried he’ll just wash out if we don’t get a handle on his need to react physically every time someone says something to upset him.”

  “I think he’ll be far more careful in the future,” my sponsor says, turning to face me. “He had a nasty surprise the other day.”

  Franny(?) turns to look at me with an expression of concern through the door. “I’m more worried about you than I am about myself. You’re sure you’ll be okay? He took some bringing down.”

  “Yes, Franny, I’ll be fine.” Indira ughs, light and breezy again. “He’s been practically catatonic for forty-eight hours.” What? “I think he’s awake and aware now, though, so I’ll just go sort things out in there and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  2022 October 5WednesdayThe other sponsor salutes zily, grinning, and strolls away, further down the corridor. I’m left with my captor who, for some reason, is keeping a safe distance.

  “There’s handcuffs under the mattress. Put them on,” she says, in a voice that will brook no dissent. It’s different from anything I’ve heard from her before. Even that first time she listed my crimes. I find the cold metal rings and pce them around my wrists. The clicking as they ratchet into a secure grip sounds threatening, but they aren’t as uncomfortable as I’d expected. I might have known. They wouldn’t deliberately give me anything I could hurt myself with.

  “Well?” she says, “would you care to expin yourself before I say what I came here for?”

  “What do you mean, ‘expin myself’? How did I get here? What’s happening?”

  Indira looks at me pensively. “Hmm. Let me rephrase. Can you describe to me the st things you remember? Maybe start from when Tommy arrived?”

  “Y-yes. Okay. I remember that new sponsor bringing him in, then he sat down, I introduced myself.” I take a breath. “Rhys said something, Tommy was rude, she told him to behave or get tased,” I’m reliving the events and they are almost as painful as the first time. “Danny and Kyle introduced themselves, Tommy said something really bad, I got up to leave,” I choke up a little and Indira jumps on the hesitation.

  “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you stand up for Kyle?” She’s pushing me like she pushed Daniel. Giving me just enough rope to hang myself.

  “I… it was just like before. At school. I didn’t want to lose control. I had to get out.” I breathe deep and ragged. “I walked to the door, there was noise behind me, I felt something hit me hard in the side of the head, then I woke up here.”

  Indira just stares at me for what feels like an eternity. “Show me how much movement you have in those cuffs.” I jangle the chains, trying to stretch them as far as I can, hoping it will satisfy her. “I need to borrow Francesca. Be back in a minute.”

  She leaves. I have no idea what’s going on. At least now I know the name of Tommy’s sponsor. As promised, she soon returns with Francesca. She turns to her and gives her instructions I can’t quite hear. Francesca nods, and stands next to the door in a ready position, taser aimed directly at my heart. Indira moves a little closer, and I can see she has a tablet in her hands.

  “Do not move a muscle. If you do, Franny will tase you. That one she’s carrying there is one of our heavy-duty models. You won’t enjoy that one bit, I promise you that. Now I’m going to show you something. And you’re going to watch it all.” She crosses the rest of the distance and stands near me, making sure she doesn’t interfere with Francesca’s line of sight, holding the tablet out. I start to reach for it, but drop my hands in panic as I remember the threat of tasing. Luckily for me, Francesca exercises some restraint. Indira shakes her head. “Just watch.”

  I link my hands to stop myself from moving them again and look at the screen. It’s a security feed from the common room. There’s a clear view of everyone. I see Tommy being guided in, sitting at the table, the argument breaking out. I see myself getting up to leave, Daniel grabbing at Francesca and getting tased, Tommy trying to get past me and punching me as hard as he can in the head. My eyes begin to well up as I see myself turn around, barely fazed. I can’t see my face from the camera’s position, but I can see Tommy’s fear reaction, my muscles tightening, my surge forward, two tasers hitting me one after the other, my stagger for one, then two more steps before I eventually fall in stages, like a tower being demolished, then finally the taser hitting Tommy and dropping him too. I start to turn aside to weep, but Indira commands me to keep watching and I look on in horror as I start to pull myself up from the ground once more, before several heavily armed military types rush in and quickly take me out of the fight with zip-ties and some sort of injection. The soldiers drag the three incapacitated bodies out of the room. I’m still struggling, albeit weakly at this point. I notice the other figures in the corner of the screen. Kyle is clutching tightly to Bel. Nell is patting Rhys awkwardly as he shakes and looks about ready to throw up. Donna and Indira hug each other before checking on the others and helping the two boys make their way out of the room unsteadily. The video freezes. It’s over.

  “Well?” she restates. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Do you remember now?”

  I look at her aghast. I genuinely do not remember. “N- no! I- I swear! I wouldn’t do anything like that if I knew what was happening!” I begin to sob, “I’m sorry! I can’t be that thing again no God please help me to be something better I’m so so sorry please forgive me!” I bury my head in my hands and scream myself hoarse. I hear the door click shut and I’m left alone again.

  The lights are at their full brightness when Indira returns. She’s carrying the taser from earlier, and she looks serious. She doesn’t approach me as cautiously as before, though. I’m relieved. I’d been afraid I’d ruined everything while I wasn’t even aware of my actions. She kneels down, still out of reach, and I don’t bme her for that. I might bck out again.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” she asks, the kindness back in her voice.

  I start in surprise. I don’t deserve kindness. Not after what I did. I think for a moment about how to respond and which mask I need.

  “Joel. Stop thinking about what I want to hear and just tell me the truth.”

  I drop the masks and start to cry. It feels like I’ve been on the verge of tears the entire time I’ve been down here. Indira comforts me with a soothing tone. She tells me everything will be all right. It’s too much for me to take. I just let it all out in a wordless howl. Minutes pass. I start to recover, pulling myself together.

  “That good, huh?”

  I can’t help but ugh at that. I’m a mess. Snot and tears streaming from my face, I ugh.

  “Here, clean yourself up a bit with this,” Indira says, passing me the corner of the bedsheet to wipe my face. “We’ll take you to the washroom to finish up properly, then we’ll get you some lunch, okay?”

  I rub my face heavily with the sheet and sniff, “Yeah. I’m really hungry, Indira.”

  “You’ve literally been out for two days. We had a meeting about whether to force-feed you,” she says, with a chuckle. “I said no. I knew you’d pull through.”

  “You actually shot me.”

  She looks rueful, but smiles. “I did. And now you know I won’t hesitate if I have to do it again, to keep everyone safe. You don’t need to be scared of yourself while I’m around. At least, not now we know you need enough of a shock to drop a bloody elephant.”

  “That really scared me,” I say, my ugh turning nervous.

  “It scared everyone. It’s not unheard of, sometimes muscles just twitch the right way to cancel out the shock, or the darts make bad contact, or someone is just much more accustomed to a level of pain beyond the average, but as far as I can remember we’ve never seen someone still have fight in them after a sucker punch, two tasings and a sedative. I think you impressed the PMCs. They were asking if they could have you if I ever decided you were too much trouble.”

  I look at her, shocked. PMCs? I think about the soldiers on the video. This facility employed armed mercenaries? I shake my head. “I don’t like fighting. And if I bck out like that again I don’t think I’d be very reliable in a crisis.”

  “I know, sweetie. I told them no. Come on now, you need to get back to the others. I know they’re missing you.” I follow her out of the cell.

  After a much needed wash, I find myself back in the common area. Rhys and Kyle are watching TV, Daniel is sitting at a table and doing what looks for all the world like homework. It seems like any other student lounge, except in those others there usually aren’t multiple armed guards, or if there are they aren’t as attractive. Nell smiles reassuringly at me as I enter and I weakly return it. I’m still embarrassed at everything that happened, even though I wasn’t, strictly speaking, aware of it. Rhys is the first of the boys to notice me, and I brace myself for his reaction. He’s going to hate me.

  “Holy shitballs, you’re back!” He leaps to his feet and rushes over. The sudden excmation startles everyone, but luckily for him and his taser-free record I’m the centre of attention. Indira comes to my defence, thankfully.

  “Yes, Rhys, sweetie, I know you’re excited to see him. Yes, he’s fine. Why don’t you let him sit down before you jump all over him, though? He hasn’t eaten in a while.”

  Nell coughs, but I’m almost positive I can make out the word “puppycoded” in there.

  Bel groans. “Oh no, not again. This is starting to get really weird.”

  Indira leads me to a space at the table nearest the dumbwaiter, and fires off a text as I sit down. Soon, I’m biting into one of the veggie burgers, and it’s all I can do to not shove it into my mouth whole. I’m absolutely famished. I’m so focused on eating, that I don’t notice the person coming into the room until they speak.

  “What the fu… Joel?”

  No Christine-damned way. It can't be.

  “Chris?!”

  DaughterofKhaos