Chapter 7: Information

Alice stole a fry as she said, “Yeah, so they select people based on skills, stuff that they have on paper or in their databases, but they also need to weed out people. They always test for thinking under pressure,” the gun and mannequin, “something that tests perseverance and resilience,” the hallway, “something that tests dealing with extreme discomfort,” the vomit, shit room, “and finally something that tests your values, morals, humanity. Whatever, you know, intangibles,” the person in the chair,” which always comes last. What did they make you do?”

Alice dipped the fry in my ketchup, more ketchup than fry, and popped the whole thing in her mouth. The thought of the vomit room caused me to put my half-eaten burger down and slide it away from me to focus on not throwing up.

“How do you know?” I asked as I took a sip of my beer, which tasted horrible, and placed it across the table with the burger, both banned from my presence. My stomach gurgled, and my vision blurred for a second.

“We hear things. Not much else to do. And we compare stories. They made me run an obstacle course, well, didn’t make me, they had this challenge, like a race, that I received a free entry for, and I did well enough, that they asked me to write some tests, and well, they offered me a job, which I said no to at first, because I liked my old job and I had a family, but the money, wow, triple my salary. Although I miss my family.”

Married. Unfortunately, because Alice had a beautiful diamond-shaped face, flawless skin, and well-groomed hair and makeup. Not classically beautiful, with her head too small for her strong body, but I would have hit on her in another situation. However, not now, not married. It didn’t matter that my whole body hurt and I didn’t feel like flirting anyway.

“What about you?” Alice asked before she took a bite of my burger, glanced at me, shook her head, and pushed the burger further away from us.

“I, ah, don’t really want to talk about it,” I said, but too late, as the smell of the room, the fear, anger, despair, and almost killing someone caused me to throw up what little I had eaten. Worse, the smell triggered a flashback to the room, and my hands shook, and the temporary skin bandage on my right hand cracked, and my hand began to bleed as I squeezed it too hard. I wanted to curl up in a ball. I wanted to wake up from the nightmare, because, no way, I couldn’t process all of it, any of it, aliens, scientists, Alice, the test.

To distract from the splatter of vomit on the floor, I scrutinized a scratch in the table, at first a blur of just lines, then, as my mind calmed, my breath evened out, and my body stilled, I realized that the letters spelled, ‘Fuk da Man.’ Of course, rebellion exists everywhere. I could have sat at this table in my high school. My high school had dark grey tables instead of the light grey ones here, but the same type of graffiti.

“Yeah, you never get over it,” Alice said as she placed her hand on my hand. Warm. My racing thoughts slowed. Her perfume replaced the food smells. She bit her lower lip. Her eyes sparkled in the horrible lights, like a beacon in a storm, safety, protection, in the distance, not safe yet, but hope, and the idea that someone else exists. I wished she didn’t have a husband and family outside of this.