Enhancement

- - 6 - -

I barely sleep through the night, the ground too cold and stiff. I don't know how Stephen's been doing this for two years. It's draining and freezing.

I doze off into fits of blank sleep, waking up periodically and expecting to be home. Every time I remember why I'm sleeping on the ground, my heart drops so slow it hurts. I just can't understand why Screeners would kidnap us and test us with experiments. I've seen the violence Screeners are capable of, but it's never gone as far as using science to kill people...

It dawns on me in the middle of my midnight trance. The Screeners aren't working alone. Scientists are helping them. Supporting ideas float around my mind. The Screener do the dirty work while the scientists, probably disguised as the hazmat people from before, take notes and modify their injections. It's the perfect team.

I blink a few times in the dark. I don't even need confirmation of my theory because I know it's true. But how on Earth is this allowed and legal? The government would never allow human experimentation, right? But then how are Screeners involved? Are 400 people really being sold out to human torturers and scientists?

Suddenly the lights flash on, waking me from another interval of sleep. I scramble to shield my eyes from the harsh lighting.

Stephen groans from a few feet away. "Stupid lights," he mutters. I remove my hands from my face, blinking wildly to help the adjusting process.

"20 seconds," the robotic voice declares ominously.

I jump to my feet in a panic, my ribs fully healed. "Relax," Stephen says in a tired voice. "It's just the showers." He rubs his eyes awake, slowly standing up and using the wall for support.

"10 seconds."

Stephen shuffles over to one of the blank walls. I step next to his left shoulder, running my hands through my hair because I don't know what else to do with them. The voice makes my fingers tremble.

"Showers opening."

A large doorway slides open, revealing two shower stalls, water already spraying from the shower heads. Without shame, Stephen starts to strip his clothes off. I turn away as he does so, and he chuckles once before stepping into the shower.

Not looking at him, I take off my clothes, too, hurrying into the water so I'm blocked from his view. Cold water pelts my skin, and I resist the urge to jump out of the shower. The showerhead's spray mixes with soap, dousing me with a foamy solution.

I let the unwavering soap-water hit me, chilled to the bone. Goosebumps rise up my arms as I try to distract myself from the temperature. The water purifies itself before shutting off completely.

Then vents on the side of the stall open, spouting hot air. I nearly melt in relief as the air warms and dries my body. After a few minutes, the vents turn off and a small compartment opens. I begin to dress using the new clothing: a clean version of the white v-neck and navy sweatpants I wore just moments ago.

"10 seconds."

I throw on the clothes and step back into the white, walled-in room. Stephen skips out of his stall just as the door begins to slide closed. The shower doors lock themselves, sealing us back into our prison.

"Morning, 400," Stephen declares, awake and alert.

I take a seat on the floor again, this time in the middle of the room. "Morning, 399."

He sits down in front of me so we're facing each other. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he flashes his off-centered 399 in the air.

"Were you always 399?" I blurt out.

Stephen pauses, lifting his eyes to mine. "No," he says. "I used to be three."

He doesn't explain anymore. I don't ask either, realizing how stupid I am for mentioning it. Instead I change the subject. "So what's next on the to-do list?"

"Food comes next," he says. "Then comprehension testing."

"What do you mean?"

He leans back, shifting his support to his palms. "Just some electronic testing. Memory questions and stuff."

"Oh, okay."

We sit in silence for a few minutes. I take to parting my hair and finger-combing it to pass the time.

A little door slides open at the far side of the room, and two small metal trays push through the slot. Stephen rises to retrieve them, handing a dish to me when he returns. I set it down on the floor with a small click, puzzled as to what's on the plate.

Stephen glances at me, already lifting the weird food to his mouth. "It's bread," he says, taking a bite.

"Bread?" I say.

"Yeah, bread," he swallows. "It's kind of grainy, but it's edible."

I pick it up and take a bite, expecting a NutriBar taste but getting a better one instead. I give Stephen a puffy-cheeked smile to tell him it's good.

He laughs lightly. My stomach suddenly fills with warmth that gives me chills.

Failing greatly at acting natural, I eat some more of the bread and take a drink of water from the small jar on the plate. After finishing my current bread and the two others, my plate is empty.

Stephen picks up our empty dishes and sets them back near the invisible slot. A gloved hand collects them within the minute.

"Starting comprehension testing."

Two of the four walls flash alive, one displaying a 399, the other a 400. Stephen steps in front of his wall, quickly rising from his seat. Following suit, I drag my feet as I approach my wall. The digital 400 towers above me, and I swallow away my shaky instincts. My body yearns to flee, but I plant my bare heels against the cold floor.

As soon as I take my place, the aqua 400 flickers away, fading into a single, mechanical sentence:

TAP THE WHITE DOTS.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whisper under my breath. They call this comprehension testing?

The wall-sized screen activates a bigger version of the dot game from my AirPhone. As the colors pan out into an aqua background, white dots simulate being tossed in the air. Feeling stupid, I let the circles hit the bottom of the screen.

Like lightning, my temples zap harder than they ever have before. I keel over, a stifled scream ripping in my throat. I try to glance over at Stephen, but my head won't budge.

Another zap as more white dots hit the bottom, and my eyes well up. Gasping for air, I stagger upright and tap a white dot. Smooth nothing soothes my head.

I continue the game, my sanity and well-being at risk. Biting my lip, I focus on the white dots, tracking each one in fear of another painful attack. As instructed, I tap the dots, gaining a fluid rhythm. Eventually, I move my hand to the far corner of the screen, about to touch another white bomb, but my hand cramps and freezes. The dot falls and hits the bottom of the frame.

Pain explodes with electrifying intensity into my skull. My body strives to flinch, to drop to its knees, to crumble on the ground, but I don't even twitch. I'm frozen, unable to move.

My mind digresses into a frozen panic.

-- -- -- -- --

the number "six" was the choice that was most voted for, so i chose to use chapter six to reveal what the Enhancement Project is really about...

"sooner" and "never" tied in their poll, but i didn't have anything planned for those. i'll make it up; i promise.

Question #1: Pick an option: plottwist, cliffhanger, or calm before the storm.

(P.S. thanks for reading! peace, love, and welcome to the Enhancement Project!)