S.M.A.R.T. (The Subject of Mind Altering Research and Testing)

Chapter Nine

A week had dragged by, of Michael pacing around and waiting in his room. Only Jim had come, and only to bring meals. They could have small chats, but somebody was always waiting for Jim on the other side of the door, so he couldn't be long. The two had come to know each other fairly well in just a few days. Jim was from Chicago. His mother worked for the bank, and his father worked on pipelines. He had joked that if he could get ahold of them now, he'd get his mother to rob the bank, and his dad to take the money to build a giant tunnel and steal him back. Jim also really enjoyed reading. Michael gave him a book one afternoon and he had read it by the next morning. They spent a good chunk of the morning discussing it. Jim wasn't allowed to stay long when he came, but Michael was starting to look forward to his visits. He was fairly amusing, and he was somebody he could talk to.

Michael didn't know whether to be thankful, or not, that the General hadn't come yet. He wanted something to happen, some forward movement. He finished the sketch of Jane. He drew one of Sheila too, but he wasn't an artist by any means. Their faces kept flashing through his mind so it wasn't hard for him to imagine them in the drawings, and no matter how badly inaccurate they were, they gave him some solace.

He wished he knew what they were doing right then. He wondered if Sheila would be able to bounce back from this too. He remembered the way she ran down the driveway when he pulled up, like she had been sitting there watching the windows. He hoped she would be alright, she was so young and innocent, she deserved all of this the least of anybody. He wished he could tell her everything would be alright. But I don't even know if they will.

Michael was reading a book on his bed when the General came into his room. He had heard him coming down the hall. He put the book behind his pillow to make it look like he wasn't taking any of the little accommodation that they were trying to provide. The General didn't seem to notice the book, and Michael felt a small victory in that.

"How have you been liking your quarters?" The General asked, with that stupid grin on his face.

Michael didn't answer. What kind of question is that? I'm lonely, I miss my family, I can't sleep. How does he think I should feel?

"I see you've been exploring. Looks like you found your pantry, and your storage room." The General looked over at the coffee maker and the half mug of black coffee on his desk, and Michael kicked himself for forgetting about it. He felt like the General could read his mind. He knows I don't want to show him that I'm using the things he's providing.
Damn him. Damn this whole place. I won't play his games. Michael grabbed the mug and took a long sip.

"Fine blend." Michael said, imitating the General's cocky tone. I'll play a different game, his game, and see how he likes that.

"World class, ground and stuck in a can, just like you. We figured you might want to re-model this can of yours every once in a while though, since you're going to be here for a while." He continued on, standing there like he was invincible. Michael could tell his response had bugged him.

Michael took the book back out from behind his pillow. "I've found a couple good reads too, maybe one day I'll teach you how."

"I've read more than you know, but I'm glad you're coming around." The General said, playing back.

Michael wanted to kill him, that would've helped him come around.

"I'm finding it is exactly what I requested, see, there's my wife coming over now. If you'll excuse me. Oh, wait, I just remembered. I'm still your prisoner, locked in this cell you're calling my quarters, as if I'm some royal guest." Michael had enough of his games. Playing into them was only going to prolong their talk. He didn't want to hear any of what the man was going to say, unless he was sending him home to Jane.