The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments) Page 3

  “And this is a good thing?”

  “Yes it is.” Cal lifted the quarter inch bound manuscript flipping through the pages. “This is the information about all those who are going. I’m going to learn this inside and out.”

  “You’re really going?” Joyce asked.

  With an ‘of course’ look, Cal glanced up at her friend.

  Joyce nodded her head and backed up. “Great,” she said, sounding less than enthusiastic, “just great.”

  Not really paying attention to Joyce’s demeanor, Cal continued to sift through the contents of the folder.

  ^^^^

  With ease Jake hurled himself over the ten foot wall of the obstacle course. There was no hesitation as he landed and sped forward to the end of the course. Chuck clicked his stop watch as Jake passed.

  Clad in a sleeveless sweatshirt and shorts, both drenched with his sweat, Jake made his way back to Chuck and checked out his time.

  “Damn it!” he made a pivot and an irritated stomp. “Sergeant Owens still has me by a second and a half.”

  “The nerve of him,” Chuck said sarcastically. “But remember, Jake, Owens also has you by a good ten years. I believe he’s only twenty-six.”

  “Fuck that. I don’t care.” Ready to try it again, Jake stopped when he saw a corporal approaching, actually running their way.

  They hid their amusement as the corporal tried to look official, attempt to catch his breath, and salute the two officers all at the same time. He received the signature ‘at ease’ nod from Jake, and then after a quick wheeze and a hand to his chest spoke. “Major Graison, sir. Colonel Roberts needs to see you in his office ASAP.”

  Jake looked down to his watch. “Let me change and I’ll meet the Colonel in his office in fifteen.”

  “Sir, Colonel Roberts needs you there stat. He said he expects you as you are.”

  Jake shrugged. “All right, let me grab my gear and I’ll head over.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The Corporal stepped back, gave a firm salute and trudged quickly away.

  Not really knowing what Colonel Roberts wanted, and not really caring, Jake knew he still had to go. He retrieved his things and headed to base.

  The Corporal opened the Colonel’s office door for Major Graison. “Colonel Roberts. Major Graison, as you requested, sir.”

  Colonel Roberts peered up from his desk. “Thank you, Corporal. That’ll be all.”

  Jake stepped into the room, snapping to attention as he did. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

  “At ease,” Colonel Roberts said and motioned with his hand. “Shut the door, Major.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jake leaned back pushing it closed.

  “This is between you and me, Jake, man to man. Have a seat.” Colonel Roberts pointed to the chair across from him.

  “What’s going on?” Jake asked as he sat down.

  “Son, I pull up to my house this morning after a great round of golf, shot an eighty-four, pretty good game. I’m not even at my front door when a messenger arrives with this.” Colonel Roberts pulled out the envelope. “It was addressed to me as your CO; it’s your orders, son. You have been selected to participate in that research project.” He handed the envelope to Jake. “All of your arrangements are in there. But that is not why I wanted you to close that door. I want to talk to you about this. I would like you to consider changing your mind.”

  “I don’t understand, sir,” Jake said and tapped the folder against his leg.

  “Jake, I remember when you joined this man’s army. You were a skinny kid, acne all over your face. Remember that?”

  Jake cleared his throat. “My enlistment has always been fresh in my mind. Thank you very much for reminding me of my acne problem.”

  Colonel Roberts chuckled. “Getting back to what I was saying. You’ve made us proud a hundred times over. Something smells foul about this. Now, against my superior’s wishes I’ve tried diligently to see what I could find out about this project. The Pentagon has sealed its copies and everything is classified. I don’t trust it, Jake. Not for one minute.”

  “It’s an experiment, sir, like every other one I’ve participated in.”

  “Yes, I understand that. But goddamn it, I can walk in and find out any of those results. I can’t find squat out about this one. That bothers me. Sending my finest into a situation that I’m not clear on, that bothers me.”

  “I can’t back out, sir. I’ve agreed to go if selected.”

  Colonel Roberts leaned back in his chair. “I can’t change your mind?”

  “Short of ordering me not to go . . . no you can’t, sir.”

  “I can’t do that.” Shaking his head Colonel Roberts leaned forward. “Just make me a promise. If there is trouble, you will do everything in your power to get in touch with us here. Got that?”

  “I got that.” Jake gave the Colonel an odd look. “I understand and appreciate your concern. But it’s a mental endurance experiment, that’s all. The only thing that could happen to me is that I could break. And I guarantee you, sir, I will not break.”

  ^^^^

  “Can you give that back to me?” Cal reached out her hand, fingers wiggling toward Joyce’s boyfriend, Pete. He sat legs crossed on the couch. In his hand he peered at the manuscript that contained the information about the participants. “Come on, Pete, you’re bending the cover.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal, Cal. It needs to be bent.” Pete looked up at her through the tops of his bi-focal glasses. “Bent from being read, read thoroughly.” He returned to the pages.

  Cal stared at him, arms crossed. Pete looked so much like the attorney that he was, sitting there smug, in his white shirt, open tie, brown pants, his pot belly hanging over a belt that seemed to be pulled in one notch too many.

  Pete picked up his glass, took a small sip of his bourbon—his beverage of choice-—and straightened his position on the couch. “Cal, I promised Joyce I would review this . . . this participant information mumbo jumbo shit.”

  “I am an adult woman capable of making my own choices, Pete.”

  “Are you?” Pete stood up from the couch. “I mean, are you actually in the right frame of mind to be deciding on whether or not . . .”

  “Don’t!” Cal held up her hand. “Don’t even give me shit about my right frame of mind. I passed all of their psychological tests.”

  “Yes, you did, but to their specifications.” Pete nodded.

  “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cal’s voice had risen in anger, and then she turned her stare to Joyce. “And you . . . you stand there huddling in the corner, did you tell him to get on me like this?”

  Joyce shook her head. “No. I told him to look at the stuff. Whether you like him or not, he’s rational, listen to what he’s saying.”

  Cal shook her head. “There’s nothing either of you are going to say that’s going to be a news flash to me. No one will change my mind.”

  Holding the manuscript outward, Pete moved to her. “Have you read this? Really read this?”

  “Yes, and I intended on reading it more.”

  “And you don’t see it?” Ignoring Cal’s huffs of irritation, Peter pointed to the manuscript as he spoke. “You question my judging you. You say you passed their tests. OK, what were the standards set as the determination factor for pass or fail? Did they mention that?”

  “My God, Pete!” Cal faced him. “This is not some shoddy operation. It pays well. It’s been done before.”

  “Listen to me. I know I’ve joked with you, but I am being very serious right now. Look at these people. A woman who is in so much debt she faces prison charges for bouncing checks. A sniveling twenty-three year old straight from Harvard says he’s a self-proclaimed journalist. You have a Brooklyn musician without a high school diploma, who works menial jobs. A Roman Catholic Priest who was almost excommunicated because three years ago he was caught in a homosexual affair with a waiter . . .”

  “Where are you going with this?” Cal interrupt
ed.

  “I’m not done.” Pete followed her with the manuscript. “Another is a retired firefighter. Retired? He’s only forty-two years old? An eighteen year old boy who states right here the highest paying job he’s had was a McDonald’s fry boy. What are his mental qualifications? The worst though is the trained killer. They chose a trained killer?”

  “Who do you mean, that Major? He’s a Ranger,” Cal said sarcastically.

  “He’s a trained killer and he trains people to kill.” Pete closed the book and slapped it on his hand. “Now . . .” He took a deep breath. “They gave all of you these psychiatric tests. Do you really truly think that all of you scored impeccably high? That somehow all of you are on the same level? This woman with all the debt, you think she’s the same as you?”

  “No, but do you actually think I believed that they were going to have us all be equals?”

  “Yes, I did. How else do they expect you all to make it? This is proof, Cal, proof.” He held it up to her. “They’re up to something. Now you and I don’t see eye to eye. If you want to go, it is fine with me, but it’s not fine with Joyce. She loves you. She’s worried. Can’t you see that they are going to pit all of you against each other up there? That’s how they’re going to get their results.”

  Cal gave a sarcastic laugh as she snatched back her manuscript. “Do you think I’m that stupid? It’s a hundred grand. Of course there are going to be weak people. People that break first, people they don’t have to pay. I’m not one of them. I’m strong enough to pull through this. I need this. And if they want to make me work for my hundred grand, so be it. What do I have to lose?” She headed towards the steps.

  Joyce reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her. “What about your life?”

  Closing her eyes, Cal tilted her head slowly. “I lost my life seven months ago. I’m on borrowed time.” She pulled her hand away and walked up the stairs.

  ^^^^

  Jake took a slow bite out of an apple as he relaxed on his bed, back propped up feet extended. His manuscript was on his lap, a red marker in his hand. “Two women,” Jake said to himself. “I know you are one of them. Are you the indebted sales clerk? The one with no education and refer to yourself as a self-proclaimed fashion addict.” Jake laughed and shook his head. “Nah, Jennifer, you aren’t her. It must be . . .” he flipped the page, “…Caleen Reynolds A.K.A. Caleen Lambert. Yep . . . it’s you. School teacher…science, expected…Military upbringing…Continuing education in psychology . . . which you stopped.” Jake lifted the page closer to his eyes. “Oh shit.” He saw the reason for her discontinued attempt at furthering her education. He saw her tragedy. “So this is why you dropped off the earth.” With his red marker he circled her name. “So you’re the one who topped me.” He laid down the marker. “Well, since there’s no picture, this background should make you easy to spot. But that’s enough about of you.” Jake flipped to the next page. “Carlos Valenz. A musician?” Slowly shaking his head, he took another bite of his apple and continued learning about the others.

  ^^^^

  Rickie Cettero worked really hard to clean the spot on the floor of his living room. Next, he cleared away empty bags of chips, soda cans, socks and whatever else he and his roommate Todd had accumulated since their last monthly cleaning. He pushed the items aside and placed them in a really neat pile. The spot was ready, where was Todd?

  “Dude,” Rickie called out from his floor seat as he peered up at the television that sported a huge hand swipe across the screen through the dust. “Come on. You bailed out, guy. I worked hard to get cleaned up for this momentous final round.”

  “Dude, like I’m pinged out on Pong.” Todd propped his feet on the coffee table. He flipped through the bound manuscript that Rickie had received.

  “How can you be like, pinged out on Pong?” Rickie asked. “It’s like the root of all video games.”

  “It’s boring and makes me think of my parents. And dude, when I put Pong and my parents together what I get is pity, pity for the parents. Guy, like that doesn’t even wash right.”

  “Valid point but . . .” Rickie turned around. “You must respect them for enduring this game. It’s the ultimate challenge.” Rickie pointed at the television. “Dude, this is bi-video. Bi meaning two, Dude. Two colors…Black…White. Two shapes… A line…A Dot. Guy, think of the genius behind this game. No weapons to turn to. No awesome graphic people. All you can do is hit the dot with the line. Hit it over and over, faster and faster. Why do you think Stephen King is so brilliant, guy? He was stuck playing Pong. No game companies fed images in that dude’s mind. He had to come up with them all on his own. Bet me he thought of Carrie while playing Pong.”

  “Whoa,” Todd whispered slow and deep. “That is really Rickie thinking.”

  “And you’re the smart one guy. Look at you being all intellectual by reading.” Rickie set down the controller and stood up. “What are you reading?”

  “It’s your vacation guide.” Todd held up the manuscript. “The letter said you should read it to find out who you’re going to be camping with.”

  “Dude, I have, like seven months to learn them. Personally I think they wasted their time on the books. I mean, who’s going to really read them?”

  “True.” Todd agreed.

  “Plus . . .” Rickie snorted a laugh. “Can you believe they’re paying me to go on some mountain retreat experiment? Just in time, too, dude. I lost my job at Burger Boy.”

  “You didn’t need that job. You have better qualifications.”

  “I do.” Rickie nodded. “So like, you hold off the landlord for seven months on my half of the rent, OK?”

  Todd shrugged, and then his eyes grew wide. “Oh, Dude! You like have a monster up there with you.”

  “No way, Dude! Like really?” Rickie said with excitement.

  “Before you get yourself all worked up, I was referring to a dude, a six foot six dude. Imagine . . . Hulk Hogan.”

  “Whoa. How much does he weigh?”

  “Doesn’t say,” Todd answered. “But bet he weighs a lot. He has to, guy, he fights bears for a living. He’s a Forest Ranger.”

  “Wow. No wonder they picked him.”

  “He works in the Army’s Forest Ranger section.” Todd scratched his head. “I like, didn’t know the Army ran the forest rangers.”

  “Think about it, Dude. National forest. . . National Interest, get it?”

  “Valid Rickie-Miester point. You are going to rule up there. You are so much smarter than these people.”

  “True and I kick ass at Pong. Shall we?” Rickie pointed to the television.

  “All right, I’m ready.” Todd stood up.

  “Dude, one more thing I have to know, are there going to be any babes up there?”

  Todd looked. “Guy, like only two, so like, if you want to get laid, you better get a jump on it, like right away.”

  “Oh, you know it. And . . . that info, the two babe info, that was the vital info, guy.” Rickie winked. “So toss the vacation guide and let’s Pong.”

  In total agreement and out of his pitying parents phase, Todd did as requested and tossed Rickie’s manuscript onto the table with everything already there. He watched it knock over a can of soda. Todd started to rescue the manuscript before it got wet, but didn’t. Rickie wasn’t going to be reading it anyway.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I-S.E. Twelve - Winnipeg, Canada

  August 2 - 1:06 P.M.

  Stepping into the small special room at the airport, Cal was immediately noticed by the six others there. Dr. Jefferson greeted her with a firm handshake, telling her as soon as Major Graison’s flight landed they would board the private jet that would take them to the isolated compound.

  Cal didn’t say much, she didn’t need to. Any questions she had would probably be answered at the orientation she hoped would be given to them at the compound. As for that moment, while waiting on the Major, Cal looked about at the faces of the six in the room. She tried to pl
ace faces with names, guessing at them as were the others who waited.

  Jennifer was easy since she was the only other female. Carlos, the guitar player, was easy to pick out also with his acoustic guitar perched right next to him, not to mention his ethnic appearance, which matched his name. Rickie, the eighteen year old was a giveaway. His long hair pulled in a ponytail, his body bouncing in laughter as he listened to a cackling and chatty Jennifer. John Montgomery, the Harvard grad, sat with his lap top and clicked away. The only two that gave Cal a hard time were Father Daniel and William Griffith, or Griff as it was stated in the notes he preferred. They were both about the same age. And since the priest was not wearing a collar, Cal could not distinguish between the two forty-something men.

  She stepped into the room, holding onto her small carry-on bag. They were allotted three items. They could choose which three they wanted the institute to provide or bring them themselves. It didn’t matter. But it annoyed Cal when she saw the laptop and the guitar. Those types of items would never have occurred to her. She had thought of necessary items as more like a seven month supply of bourbon, coffee and cigarettes.

  Cal slipped off to the side and took a seat behind the two forty-something men. If nothing else, she figured she could at least spend the waiting time waiting eavesdropping on their conversation and try to figure out who was who before they divulged that information.

  Jake did not go unnoticed when he walked into the private room. His entrance immediately prompted Dr. Jefferson to gather everyone’s attention and inform them they would be boarding soon, and lunch would be served on the flight. Jake hoped it wasn’t bagel sandwiches.

  Maybe it was a bit neurotic of him, but Jake had to know. Was she there? He walked up to Dr. Jefferson and pulled him rather obviously off to the side. “Is she here?” he asked the doctor.

  “Who do you mean?”

  “The woman that scored higher than me, is she here?”