SELECT * FROM Shane

Welcome to part eighteen of the ongoing novella The Tube, a sci-fi serial that explores (amongst other things) issues of sacrifice, morality and devotion.

THE TUBE

Concept by Michael Winters and Shane W Smith
Written by Shane W Smith

Every night, the Motivator clicked on and began to raze his memories. Though he held on as tightly as he could to the important things, he had to let so much fall to the fire. His high school years in their entirety; the ceremony in which he had received his Nobel Prize; the circumstances under which he had come to work at GenTech: all gone.

Every morning, he woke from restless sleep, his head pounding all the way through to his sinuses, and his brain on fire. While concentrating on his memories of Katherine had worked so well the first night with no ill effects, his mind was starting to weaken against the relentless nightly onslaught of the Motivator and throbbed with a constant ache whenever he was conscious. One morning he awoke with no memory of his father-in-law at all, and realised with certainty – for the first time – that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long, and certainly not for as long as he’d hoped.

And every day shortly after he awoke, she came back to talk with him. At first, it seemed she was attempting to browbeat him into accepting his situation, but eventually she began to ask him about the way he was being treated, and seemed genuinely concerned when he told her in some detail about what the Motivator was doing to him.

They didn’t leave the apartment that day, and he thought little of their conversation after she had gone… but that night, the Motivator remained switched off, and he had a full night’s rest. His dreams were fragmented and broken, like a cracked mirror, but Katherine was there in some form for most of the time, though she seemed so far away, like he was trying to see her through a dirty lens.

He surmised that this night of relief was Clarissa’s doing, and was surprised when his visitor the next morning was not her, but was instead Graham, the large man who had shown him the contract he couldn’t remember signing.

The presence of an armed guard prompted the revelation that Clarissa had always visited him unescorted. Either she didn’t fear him, or she was unaware of the true nature of the situation; maybe even naïve to the true functioning of The Tube itself. It dawned on him that if she were not aware of the presence of armed guards in The Tube, she might become a potential ally.

Graham afforded him little time to dwell on the possibility, however. Not even waiting for the guard to clear the room first, he strode right in and waved a threatening finger in Shane’s face; he seemed angrier and more aggressive than at any other time he had been here before.

“You signed the contract,” he said. “You signed it. You agreed to the parameters of the experiment – hell, you were the one who defined the parameters! Based on your commitment, funds were allocated, staff were reassigned, and project plans were drafted. I don’t think you understand the true scope of what you’re messing with here, the people your unreasonable and unconscionable resistance is affecting.”

He began to pace back and forward, running a hand through his hair, his rage giving way to obvious anxiety. He appeared lost in thought, almost entirely oblivious to anyone not two inches before him; he had certainly stopped paying any attention to Shane. If not for the guard at the open door, Shane would have taken the opportunity to sneak out, for sure, and he probably would have made it, too.

Eventually, Graham appeared to have reached a decision. His face was flushed with stress, and he had mussed his own hair well out of its typical neat arrangement. He stopped and pacing and addressed the guard at the door: “Leave us.”

When they were alone, and before Shane had had a chance to absorb his mild surprise, Graham was squatting down next to him. “Listen to me,” he murmured. “For my part, I don’t really care if you resist or not… insofar as the project should be seen to be a success. But I can see what’s happening; the reports are clear: the Motivator is breaking you. This is naught to me, but I have recently received information that you have a use beyond this experiment.

“But I’ve been told that you possess vital knowledge that cannot be jeopardised. If you resist, you risk losing that information, and your primary utility to OmniTech. Should that happen, I would certainly incur a significant backlash, and so too might you… or your family.”

He paused to allow this implicit threat to sink in, and then continued in a low voice. “I’ve been sent here to get your co-operation. One more night with the Motivator to erase your family and get you back to work, your vital knowledge remains intact, and you go to work.”

He licked his lips nervously, apparently debating whether or not to say more. “One more night,” he repeated, and then, dropping his voice to a whisper, “even if you resist, it’ll be just one more night. You will need to pretend it worked.”

And with that, he stood suddenly, jerkily, as if he had caught himself doing something he shouldn’t have been.

“Do you agree?” he asked in a loud voice, apparently performing for whatever recording device he thought was present.

Acting on instinct, Shane made a show of nodding hesitantly. “I agree,” he said, attempting to sound downcast and resigned.

Graham nodded once, sternly, and left without a further word. The door slid shut, and clicked into its typical locked position. Shane stared after it, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment.

–Continue to part 19–

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