An Exquisite Experiment

by Sappharia Mayer

“It would be wise for you to understand how your language portrays you, but you asked a question, and I must give you an answer. I am your room attendant. Thus, within reason, I am at your beck and call while you are here. If there is anything you need, then all you must do is ask.”

  “Can you see me?”

  “Yes. It is my job to ensure your safety and relative comfort in all aspects of the experiment.”

  “Is there anywhere where there aren’t cameras?” I asked in alarm.

  “Within your domicile, there are cameras which cover every square inch.”

  “Everywhere?” I asked as I glanced towards the door I presumed led to the toilet.

  “Yes. Everywhere.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “No, I am not god, but merely your attendant,” the voice said, but I almost detected a chuckle at the end of the sentence.

  “How do I turn on the bloody bathtub?”

  “What temperature would you like your bath?”

  “I don’t know… warm but not too hot?”

  “Then we’ll set it at one hundred and two degrees. Would you like bubbles in your bath?”

  “Um… yes?”

  “Is this the way you prefer your usual bath?”

  “When I get one,” I muttered as water began to flow into the tub beside me.

  “You prefer showers then?”

  “Not really. I don’t normally have a lot of time for baths, so they are more convenient.”

  “Then you prefer a bath over a shower?”

  I nodded in agreement, having never thought about the matter much until they brought it into such a focus.

  “Would you like a beverage while you soak?”

  “Yes, please. Green tea if it is available.”

  “With sugar?”

  “Are you crazy? I don’t have any place in my diet for sugar!”

  “Noted. An attendant will bring you a beverage shortly. If you look to your left, you’ll see a place to hang your dress along with a small shelf for the underwear set you chose. There is also a warming towel rack. A large towel is already on the rack, and I will turn it on while you bathe. There is a small towel immediately by the tub for when you emerge.”

  I followed the directions and found the place to hang my dress. Then I made my way back to the tub and sat down on the side, swirling my hand in the warm water.

  “Can you make the water a little warmer?”

  “As you wish. I will note the change to one hundred and six degrees.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I turned and slid into the warm water. The rich layer of bubbles covered my body, and I let it carry me away.

  Chapter Nine

  The long, luxurious bath relaxed my muscles and settled my anxiety. When the last of the bubbles dissipated, I set my tea glass aside and climbed out of the bath. With careful steps, I made my way to the towel rack and pulled off the large bath sheet. I sighed in contentment as I wrapped it around my frame and gathered my clothes and walked to the bedroom. As I leaned the cane against the wall, I worked my ankle through a series of stretches. Then I put the small sock and brace back in place.

  I slipped into the clothing I’d chosen and reveled in the quiet of the small apartment. The day had been full of twists and turns, and for the first time since it all started, I felt a little settled.

  The door to the apartment clicked open, and I stood to look around the screens. A person in a standard black mask with a nondescript uniform walked in with a tray, set it down on the coffee table, then turned and gave me a slight bow before leaving. Around me, the room filled with aromas of food, and my stomach growled in response.

  “Can you tell me the time?” I asked the room as I made my way to the table.

  “It is time for you to eat.”

  “Well, that’s helpful,” I said with a shake of my head as I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Indeed. It is an accurate and descriptive answer to your question.”

  “Let me try it again.”

  “If you must.”

  “What is the hour and minute of the day?”

  “This information is irrelevant.”

  “Can you show me a picture of outside on the large LED panel?”

  A night picture of Paris from an apartment balcony doorway, with the Eiffel Tower in the distance, faded in on the panel. The lights twinkled, and the soft ambient noise of the city filled the room as if this were really the location.

  “Nice picture,” I said wryly.

  “Thank you. I find it pleasing. Have you been to Paris?”

  “No,” I replied as I sat down on the couch. “It’s on my to-do list. I always thought it would be lovely to dance with the Ballet de l'Opera, but I fear my injury may take me out of dance altogether. Still, one can dream and hold on to it until it becomes impossible.”

  I lifted the dome over the covered dishes. The large salad was a welcome sight, though I noted the feta cheese would need to be picked out of it to maintain a lower calorie intake.

  “Is your food acceptable?”

  “The salad looks lovely, but can the cheese and croutons be removed in the future?”

  “Do you not enjoy them?”

  “Yes. I love cheese, in many forms. A bit too much, truth be told.”

  “Then why would you wish them removed?”

  “I’m a dancer who isn’t dancing. I can’t afford to put on weight over an injury.”

  “According to your report, you are under the recommended weight for your height. What is your standard calorie intake during your convalescence?”

  “Fifteen hundred calories. When I’m dancing, I increase it to offset how much I burn, but I’m not burning much sitting on my ass with a bum leg,” I said and shoved a large forkful of salad into my mouth.

  “Do you have a preference for food if calories weren’t a limiting factor?”

  I laughed and pushed another bite of salad into my mouth to avoid the question.

  “You know, I can wait for an answer. You can choose to answer it now, or you can choose to answer it later.”

  “Are you all pushy at such a level?” I asked and took a sip of water.

  “Do you mean, are we used to getting an answer when a question is asked?”

  “Yeah, we’ll go with that version for now.”

  “The information is always acquired, through various means as necessary.”

  “Wait. I thought there was a choice in the matter.”

  “Yes, two six eight, there is always a choice. Just as there was during your inspection.”

  The forkful of salad paused halfway to my mouth, and my stomach turned at the reminder. While I was given a choice, the consequences were uneven. I placed the fork in my bowl and set it back on the table.

  “Is there something wrong with your meal?”

  I shook my head as ideas and scenarios ran rampant through my mind.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “What is the reason for the experiment?” I asked.

  “To allow people of a certain persuasion to explore themselves in a way they might not otherwise choose.”

  “Explain the words ‘certain persuasion.’”

  “I’m not able to accommodate your request for fear it may enter a bias into the experiment.”

  “How many people are taking part in this experiment?”

  “Currently, there are twenty-five candidates in this experiment cycle.”

  “Is this the first time this experiment has been run?”

  “No.”

  “How many people make it to the end?”

  “That number varies from session to session, two six eight. Now I have a question for you.”

  “Your questions are far more probing than mine. I find it patently unfair,” I replied.

  “But does it excite you?”

  “Does what excite me?”

  “This situation. The edge of helplessness with the right edge of choice to give the illusion of control. Does it excite you?�
��

  “Define excite.”

  “Are your nipples hard? Do you find your pussy moist in anticipation? Is your heart racing at the mere thought of the inspection earlier? Does your mind race with the possibilities of what it all means?”

  I shivered at the questions. For a moment I felt transparent and vulnerable, then I closed it all down and stepped into performance mode.

  “Is that how you want my body to react?”

  “We want nothing from you, two six eight, except honest answers to our questions.”

  “I see.”

  “Not yet, you don’t; but soon you will. You should sleep soon. Physical therapy will begin at seven-thirty in the morning, along with other assigned tasks. It is best if you finish your dinner. When the lights dim, it will be time to sleep.”

  “When will that happen?”

  “As with all things here… when it does.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Good morning, two six eight. I am Lukas, your physical therapist. Please go put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt,” the male voice said from the other side of the screens as the lights rose to full brightness. “How did you sleep?”

  “I’m still sleeping. I will let you know how it went when I am done,” I grumbled.

  “Because it is your first day and you are not accustomed to the way things work within the experiment, I will be lenient on your behavior today. In the future, failure to obey a directive by any attendant or lead will be met with swift discipline and punishment. I’d advise you to get out of bed and make your way to the uniform closet, two six eight,” he said. “Room attendant, please place five minutes on the timer for our guest.”

  “Yes, PT Lukas,” the voice responded. “Five minutes is on the timer and starts now.”

  A beep filled the room, and I scowled as I sat up in bed. On the monitor, a large set of numbers counted down the minutes, and I stared at it in disbelief.

  “Well, at least I know it’s seven-thirty,” I said as I scooted off the bed, grabbed my cane, and made my way to the closet.

  “How do you figure this is the time?”

  “Last night, the voice,” I said with a wave of my hand toward the ceiling, “told me the physical therapist would be here at seven-thirty. You are a physical therapist. I am tired. It must be seven-thirty in the morning, by reason of deduction.”

  “I see,” Lukas said and chuckled. “You pay close attention to things.”

  I gave him a nod and pulled on my clothes.

  “My life is about perfections. Well, it was until recently. It was my job to notice the details, the minute. Is the step on the right beat? Did the hold feel secure? What were the last critiques, and did I do it better? Are we aligned as a group? Which always led to what I ate, how much I slept, worked out, performances, choreography…” I shrugged. “You get used to paying attention.”

  “I’m sure you are used to many things. Now, lie down on the massage table, and let’s get started on that injury.”

  I leaned the cane against the table and moved until I was facing downward.

  “According to your file, you are past twelve weeks post-op.”

  “Yes. I had an infection, so it’s put my recovery a bit behind.”

  He pushed my ankle through a series of motions. Periodically pain shot through my leg, and I cringed but didn’t pull away.

  “Okay. Hop down. Put your brace on then use your fingers to balance on the table, and stand on your toes. When you are ready, I want you to march toes.”

  “You did notice I use a cane.”

  “It was noted. I also think you are leaning on it, like many other things in your life, in order to not move forward; however, I am only here to address the physical version. Now, legs hip distance apart, up on your toes, and pick up your feet in an alternating pattern.”

  With a deep sigh, I raised to my toes and followed his instructions.

  “Is there a reason you’ve not followed your recovery protocol?”

  “There were several reasons,” I said without elaborating as I continued to exercise.

  “Then it was a good thing you fell into this experiment. You have beautiful lines, and with a recommended physical therapy program, you’ll be back up on those toes in short order.”

  I stopped mid-movement and looked over at Lukas.

  “Was I chosen because of my injury?”

  “No one told you to stop,” he replied. “I am not responsible for why you are here, only what to do with you. How’s your pain level?”

  “It’s okay,” I replied as the muscle in my calf stretched and caused spikes of pain to shoot through my leg.

  “Does the pain give you gratification?”

  I scowled at the question, and Lukas chuckled.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Now that you’re warmed up, let’s get started.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next forty-five minutes, he put me through my paces. Sweat poured down my face. It was less physical therapy and more a basic dance workout. Every part of my body ached, but he didn’t let up. When he finally said we were done, I collapsed in a heap on the couch.

  “Looks like someone is out of shape, in need of a strict routine with a heavy hand of creativity,” he said as he made notes on his clipboard and handed me a bottle of water.

  “It would seem to me someone is presumptuous,” I replied then gulped the water like a woman crawling out of a desert.

  “You may have accidentally stumbled on exactly what you need, two six eight. I’ll see you tomorrow. In the next four days, we’re ditching that cane completely,” he said with a nod toward the cane leaning against my leg.

  “Either you’re arrogant or good at your job,” I shot back.

  “Both,” Lukas said and flashed a grin. “More importantly, you’ll crave each and will be the first to suggest you don’t need them, even if your body doesn’t agree.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re perfect for this place.”

  “Speaking of this place, what is the point of all of this?” I asked as I waved my arms to point toward the room.

  “This is an exquisite experiment. A place where the world falls away, the person you were changes irrevocably, and the one you become is unrecognizable.”

  I scoffed.

  “In two weeks?” I asked as I shook my head in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, that could be the perfect disaster or greatest triumph, but all I want is to get enough money to get back on my feet. Dancing is my life.”

  “Was your life. And I’m not sure it’s one you want.”

  “How dare you!” I said and struggled to my feet.

  “Be indignant all you want, two six eight, but if you wanted to fight for your life, then you wouldn’t be here. You’d be on the stage,” Lukas said as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see in a matter of days, if you last that long,” he said as he gave my shoulder a squeeze. “For now, your breakfast will arrive soon. I’d advise you take a shower and help the muscles work out some of their kinks.”

  Behind us, the door opened, and Lukas nodded as he looked up. Then he gathered his notes and headed toward the door. Seconds later a deafening silence descended on the room as his words played through my head.

  I rotated my sore ankle and winced as the pain shot through my foot. Still, I marveled; there was more mobility than I’d had in weeks.

  Heeding Lukas’ advice, I grabbed my cane and hobbled into the bathroom.

  “Please start the shower,” I called out to the room.

  Water poured from the shower head, and steam filled the stall. As I stripped, I marveled at the last twenty-four hours and what the next few days might bring.

  “Your breakfast is en route, two six eight.”

  “Thank you for the information, but a shower is a necessity over eating,” I replied to the room and stepped into the cascade of hot water.

  The temperature was perfect, and I sighed
as each stream hit my muscles.

  “I could get use to this,” I muttered to myself.

  “Good,” the room attendant replied through the speakers. “Your breakfast has arrived and is ready for you in the sitting area.”

  Yes. I could get very used to this, I thought as the water sluiced over my skin.

  Chapter Twelve

  The steam of the hot shower curled eddies as the fog lay heavy in the bathroom. I was less tense but full of a thousand questions as I wrapped the large bath sheet around my form and limped back into the adjacent room.

  Smells of bacon and sausage assaulted my senses as I reached into the closet for another outfit. My stomach growled its demand, and I made my way back to the couch. On the large coffee table sat two domed serving trays, but they refused to budge when I tried to lift the top.

  “Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed.

  “Good morning to you too, Lexus,” Dr. McNally said as he came into view on the large screen in front of me.

  “Good morning,” I mumbled.

  “You seem in quite the state of consternation this morning. What seems to be amiss?”

  “I was told breakfast was ready, but neither of these domes will lift, and I’m verging on being hangry.”

  He smiled.

  “This shouldn’t take very long, then you will be allowed back to eat your breakfast in peace.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  “At the end of the couch, you’ll see a new piece of furniture,” he said, and I rose to investigate. “This is a kneeling chair. There’s a pressure plate in the knee pad. When your food is presented, you are expected to kneel on the chair. After two minutes, it will release the lock on the domes. If during your meal you rise, choose not to kneel, or move in a way which releases the pressure plate, attendants will come in and take away all of your food portions. In addition, the next meal will be a meal replacement.”

  I let his words sink in as I worked to process them.

  “Wait. You want me to kneel to eat? To even release the dome? What if I refuse to kneel? You’ll… what? Starve me?”

  Dr. McNally shook his head.