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.
"But, you are our special guest. It could be worse, you just don't see it yet. I think it's about time you learned just why you're here. Let's go for a walk." The General said, and walked towards the door.
"I think I'll stay right here, thanks." Michael wasn't budging.
"I think you'll walk with me. Or I can force you." Gus and Henry stepped out from the hallway and showed themselves.
"You're a real tough man, standing behind your men. I know they can't hurt me. They're trained dogs, and you're trying to make me into one too. Well, you'll have a harder time getting this dog to do tricks for you."
"You're smarter than you look, management would prefer if you didn't get harmed and stall progress. This is an expensive operation, after all, but, make no mistake, I can hurt you. It would be a set-back, but relatively minor. Walk with me, and, as you said, we won't hurt you. You know the rules."
The General left the room. Michael didn't know what to do and then Jim's voice stuck out in his head for a moment. "It's not worth dying over." He heard him say. Michael got off the bed and went out the door. The General was in the hall waiting.
"You're not really in a position to play hard-to-get. It'd be better if we didn't have to go through that little dance every time I come to fetch you. It will be easier on both of us, mainly you though." The General threatened.
Fetch me? He does think I'm his little pet. Fuck that.
He led Michael to the door and entered his password. Michael tried to see what he entered in, but the keypad was covered all around by a thin steel barrier, and his effort was fruitless.
The General led him to the courtyard they had passed before, through the halls, and into the glass room. When they walked in he noticed that there was a table set up in the middle of the yard. On it was a tiny bottle, some books, a glass of water with a straw, and a pencil and paper. He looked around the whole yard. Now he saw the video cameras, they were in every corner of the courtyard, covering every angle of it. There was a pond, and there were trees growing. If Michael hadn't been in the circumstance he was in, he would have thought it was beautiful. The waters in the ponds looked clear and cold and it like you could drink from them. The trees were green, mostly pines, Cedar, Spruce and Hemlock, and among them were a few Red Alders, Aspens and Willows. There was grass around the edges and a patterned stone path went throughout the indoor garden. It was a large room. The trees grew right out of the ceiling which was giant panes of window, everywhere except where it met the trees, which then turned into a rubber material that sealed the trees to the glass, but gave way for the growth. It looked like it could slide open like a car window. Michael had never seen anything like it. There certainly is a lot of money behind this. He remembered not seeing the building until they were basically inside it. It must have been the trees growing from the middle that hid it so well. He noticed there were about a dozen people in another small room with a massive glass window who were watching him. They were mostly wearing lab coats, but a few wore expensive looking suits. The ominous people behind the glass, staring at the rat in the cage.
"Here we are, Michael. It's quite the view, isn't it? And, it's all for you." The General grabbed the bottle from the table.
"And for them." Michael gestured towards the people behind the glass.
"Don't worry about them, they're just interested spectators, and I didn't mean the room, I meant this." He put out his arm and held the bottle up.
The bottle had one little pill in it. It was half blue and half white. Michael felt a nervous tinge in his stomach. That is what they ruined my life for... That tiny little pill. He grabbed the bottle from the General's hand.
"So this is what, my first test? And you and your little team are going to watch from behind your glass windows and see what happens to me?" Michael asked with an angry tone.
"Yes." The General replied simply. He walked out of the courtyard and Michael saw him join the others behind the glass.
This is the most fucked up situation. I'm supposed to gobble down this little pill and be they're just going to observe what happen to me. Does not one of them care for my human rights? Does not one care what could happen to me? He decided he wouldn't do it, and he slammed the bottle down on the table and smiled to people behind the glass.
They watched him for a minute, waiting to see if he was going to do anything else, and then they started murmuring to each other. Michael figured they were asking why he wasn't taking it. He hoped the General was explaining how he took everything he loved from him to get him there. The General gave him a look from behind the glass that suggested Michael wasn't going to be happy if he didn't take it. Michael refused to give in to his demands, and he grabbed the bottle, throwing it hard across the courtyard, and it vanished from sight.
The General stormed out of the observation room and into the courtyard moments later, accompanied by Gus and Keg.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He roared, as the three of them approached Michael. The General gave a nod to Gus, and Gus punched Michael in the stomach. His stomach curdled over, and he gasped for a breath, winded, but got up from the chair to fight back. Gus took a step back.
"Don't worry, I've got this." Gus said to the other two, and turned back to Michael.
"Been waiting to do that since I met you. You should be defiant more often." Gus snickered, and then grabbed the side of Michael's face with his whole hand, and tried to shove him into the dirt, but Michael stuck his foot out in front of Gus, and pushed down hard on his back. Gus' body flew forward but his feet caught on Michael's leg and he fell face flat into the dirt, his stitches cracking open.
"Oops." Michael mocked, as Gus struggled to get back on his feet.
"YOU FUCKING SHIT!" Gus yelled as he rubbed the dirt off his face and saw the blood, again. He flew forward, and Michael went into a stance. Gus charged into him. Michael's stance couldn't take the weight of the tackle, and the two fell crashing into a bush before falling out onto the ground in fisticuffs.
Kenneth watched them go down and ran in to break them up. He struggled to get Michael off of Gus, but eventually succeeded, and the two pinned Michael to the ground. Michael was well trained, but they were too big to push off. He didn't stand a chance.
The General walked over. "Just when I thought you were learning your lesson." He spat. "Are you going to cooperate now, or is this going to be completely useless?" He asked with icy eyes.
"It is." Michael said, looking up from the ground, covered in pine needles and dirt.
"I had a feeling you might say that." The General paused, and then knelt beside Michael, taking his gun from a holster in his sock.
He pressed the tip of the barrel to Michael's head. Michael had a familiar feeling come over him, but this time, he was sure there wouldn't be any surprise happy endings. He was facing the wrong way to see the people behind the glass's reaction, but they obviously didn't seem to mind the General's tactics, or maybe they just didn't want guns pressed into their temples.
"You move, and you die." The General threatened to Michael. "Gus, bring me another bottle." He commanded at Gus.
Gus let Michael go and hurried out of the room. Michael didn't budge. Gus came running back in with the bottle in no time. He gave the bottle to General. He looked at the pill, and then held it out to Michael.
"You have three seconds to choose. Eat this pill, and live, or die today."
Michael didn't know what to do. How could he live like this, but how would he ever escape? It would give him some justice to never take it, but there was always the chance he might be able to escape, and maybe the pill could help him. He decided he didn't want to die. He took the bottle.
"I'll do it." Michael said, defeated.
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? The harder you make things for me, the harder I'll make them on you. Gus, Ken, with me." The three of them left the room and Michael saw the General slip back in behind the glass once more, without his men.
Michael went back to the desk, and sat down, and took a long sip of water. He was half tempted to pull the whole stunt over again, but he knew that would be too much, and he would likely be eating a bullet instead of a pill, and calling bluff didn't seem like a good option.
Michael popped off the tiny cork with his thumb and tipped the bottled upside down over his other hand. The little pill fell into his palm. He didn't believe such a small thing could really be worth all the human lives and freedoms that were stolen. Why would he believe this even gave him knowledge, that was probably a lie too. If it was going to kill me this would be an elaborate and expensive murder. He stopped deciding before he made the General come in again, and popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it with a sip of water. Here goes nothing.
The feeling came over him fast, starting behind his eyes. Everything seemed to be moving slower, but he was still moving at regular speed, and his brain was like like lightning. Every bit of his body seemed to strike up inside him. He noticed that he could feel his own blood flowing, and he could control it, or let it work by itself if he wanted to devote focus to something else. Every memory he had ever had flashed before his eyes in an instant and he thought he might be dying. His brain booted like a hard drive in a computer, scanning every single file before it turned on. He realized he wasn't even in the room anymore. He told himself to be back in the courtyard, and he was. He was in control. He could access each memory he had ever experienced, and some that he didn't even know he had. He remembered every word he had ever heard or read or spoken, and every word he had ever even over-heard. He could make out every individual conversation from people in crowds talking in his memories. People on busses, or waiting for the subway. He could recall all of it, or leave it behind if he wanted to shut it out, like flipping a switch. It was east. He could remember every stone that had flown up and hit his car windshield, every path he had walked, and leaf he had stepped on, or seen, and every other detail of his life, both trivial, and important ones. It was overwhelming. He told himself to drown it out and his mind obeyed. He didn't know how, it just obeyed. He was awakening to a radical new feeling of control and awareness that he had never felt. The damned pill is working.
Numbers flew threw Michael's head at lightning speed. He could tell which day of the week it was on February 12th, 1714 if he wanted to. It was a Monday. He could tell what day it would be on July 28th, 5768. That was a Thursday. He tried to ask himself mathematical questions, and before he could even finish asking them, he knew the answers. He felt like a savant. Michael looked at the desk, everything was so vivid. The straw in his cup. Straw. His memory scanned the word. He saw everything he'd ever seen or experienced that had anything to do with straws in the background of his vision; Drinks he had once had, or watched people drink, even in his subconscious, and from the corners of his eyes. He remembered a story he had heard about a man sticking a straw into a tree with perfect precision. In the story, the straw didn't bend or crack, it dug right into the tree, and the man pulled out a chunk of wood three inches long, in the exact cylindric shape of a the straw. I can do that. Without thinking, he grabbed the straw from the glass on the table and went to a tree. His brain scanned the tensile strength of the tree as he swung, and he placed it in the just the right spot, stabbing it in, with perfect precision, speed and leverage. He pulled out a chunk four inches deep, nearly the entire length of the straw. This is amazing. He felt Godly.
The General and the crowd of others gasped in amazement when the straw bit into the bark and sunk into the wood. It was like they had watched an illusion, but it was no trick of the eye. He had really done it. They all started scribbling on notepads and whispering to each other. Michael noticed every movement they made, from the corner of his eye, but he didn't care. What mattered then was what he was experiencing, and that he was the first man in the world to feel what was happening to him. He stared up out of the glass ceilings, and lost himself in the sky. That's all they get to see from me today. He thought to himself smugly. I'll have this place in my pocket soon enough with this pill to help me.
Michael remembered every formula he had ever seen or learned, and applied it, and solved new ones in fractions of moments. He started to calculate the speed of the stars moving in the cosmos above him. He felt so happy with himself. He applied knowledge he had of where they were in the sky, and his mind pulled up and scanned every star chat he had ever even glanced over, his brain deciphering the knowledge and telling him the names of each star and planet he saw. He could project the images of the constellations onto the black backdrop of the night sky. All of the dots connected in imagination, joining together to form beautiful pictures, but only if he wanted to see them. He could see deep within concepts that he never understood before. Michael had always been a smart man, but this wasn't even comparable. He was as elated as he was elevated.
The General came back into the courtyard to get Michael after about twenty minutes of watching him stare into the sky. Michael was just starting to come down from the intensity of the experience. He was feeling slower again. Not slower, Regular. He looked down at his hands, which were shaking slightly. The General walked up, and paid no notice.
"You did a good job, once you decided to cooperate. You surpassed even my expectations." The General said. It felt like the first honest word Michael had heard from him, but he knew better. It was only because he was as shocked as Michael.
"I didn't do anything. I was just doing my job." Michael replied, as the General once had to him. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of saying what he was feeling to him.
"If you say so. It looked to me like you were enjoying it."