Subject 342 (Outdated)

August 19, 1953

I lead Subject 342 down the hallway to the testing floor. All the test subjects down there are talking about his upcoming test left and right.

"Ah," I ah. "Here we are." I open the cast iron vault door and lead him into the test chamber. The room has green, metal walls with a grate pattern, not trying to be too descriptive. I continue to lead him onto a chair.

Dr. Spudus Potato is already in the room. He really seems to have a habit of crossing his arms a lot, and putting his big nose in other people's business.

"Humph. So today is finally the day." he grumbles.

"Sure is, SPUD. Anyway, 342, just sit in this chair." I say.

He jumps a little bit when he sees the metal chair, with wires and vacuum tubes sticking out everywhere. The color and texture of the chair matches the room.

I jump too. "Oh don't mind those," I say, unplugging the chair. "This room was previously the Neuro-Electric Chair test chamber."

"Now sir, let's get a move on," says Dr. Potato.

He hops in the chair.

"Hey, this chair isn't comfortable enough! It's too thin! My back hurts!" he demands.

I toss him a General Science Pillow in his direction and he quickly puts it on the chair.

"Who in the right mind would want a Neuro-Electric chair?!" he asks.

"Nobody in the right mind! Some crazy people out there enjoy the buzz of 120V shocks... once they get used to it," I reply

"How come everything here is just crazy?"

"So many questions," I sigh. "Are you writing a book?"

"No."

As he begins to ramble on about whether or not the treatment is safe, I push a button on the chair, which handcuffs his wrists to the armrests.

"What was that for?" he shouts.

"You must calm down. I'm only trying to make this injection quick," I reassure.

"INJECTION?" he screams.

"It must be taken by injection. We designed it that way. We don't know what it will do if ingeste-"

"You don't know whether or not it will work either way, do you?"

This conversation is going nowhere. I have to act fast.

I take the needle off a tray and fill it with the chemical, which is a sickly acid green color.

"Do you want your money and possibly your health, or not?" I shout.

Without hesitation, I plunge the needle into his arm. Eventually, he begins to calm down and I tell him to report to the medical chambers tomorrow and I send him back to his relaxation chamber.

I sure hope that the chemical works. His disease won't be fully cured any other way. I'm a little worried about Test Subject 342. His skin cancer is the worst off of any of the other people who signed up. According to his doctor, it began spreading to other organs in his body.

He may only have seven months left to enjoy the world. At least he's able to be sarcastic about it...