Prologue
A SCIENTIST… OF SORTS
The two men have very nice teeth. Greg’s are more yellow—from too much coffee, I’d imagine, or maybe nicotine. Rafael’s are straighter and show evidence of childhood orthodontics.
Too bad that money will go to waste.
I lean closer to the monitor in my control booth, watching as the men begin to stir in the industrial chamber one floor below.
The video quality is remarkably clear, a blessing of modern technology that will make everything so much more enjoyable for me.
The men sit opposite one another on plastic folding chairs.
There was no point in restraining them. I made sure there was no exit.
The door is sealed magnetically from the outside, there are no windows, and nobody will hear them through concrete walls that are two feet thick.
Besides, they’ll need their hands for this.
Greg is the stockier one, early thirties, I’d guess, wearing a faded university pullover. Rafael is leaner and dark-haired, with delicate fingers that make his wedding band look too large. They make a handsome couple. Made. The past tense will be more appropriate soon.
“What the hell…” Greg’s voice comes out slurred from the sedative. “Raf? Raf, baby, you’ve got to wake up.”
Rafael’s head lolls to one side as he fights the drug. “Ah God, my head… Greg?”
Anticipation builds in me like steam leaking from a radiator, hissing, pressurized, threatening to burst through the pipes. I pinch the coarse hair on my chin and pull until there should be pain, but there’s only the distant awareness of tugging. It feels wrong.
Greg and Rafael had no idea I’d been watching them for weeks.
They were completely unaware that I’d followed them to that dingy bar on Seventh Street last Thursday, nursed a hot toddy while they drank themselves stupid.
Their stumbling, drunken departure was just what I’d been waiting for.
I pulled up beside them three blocks down and offered them a cheap ride home.
People used to trust easier, back before everyone got so goddamn paranoid, but drunks are stupid in any era.
I watched Greg’s fuzzy calculation that yes, this stranger seemed safe enough, and once they’d settled in my back seat, I gestured to the water bottles I’d prepared.
Rafael reached for one with clumsy gratitude.
Greg took the other. They made it perhaps two minutes before Rafael’s bottle slipped from his fingers.
Greg lasted longer, his words slurring into incomprehensible mush before his eyes rolled back and he slumped against the leather.
Back in the control room, I press the intercom button.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” I over-enunciate the words, ensuring they come out clear despite my lack of control over this small and unfamiliar mouth.
Speaking feels alien after so many weeks of silence—especially speaking through another person’s mouth.
I don’t like this voice. It makes me sound like a pansy, but it gets the job done.
There’s a small echo as my words flow into Greg and Rafael’s chamber through a speaker attached to the ceiling.
“I apologize for the uncomfortable accommodations,” I continue, “but I can assure you they’ll serve their purpose.”
Greg jerks his head upward, searching for the source of my voice. His eyes are wild, confusion giving way to the first sparks of fear. “Where are we? What is this?”
Settling back in my chair, I release a sigh and put my finger back on the button.
“I’m an observer.” I tilt my head from side to side, considering the words. “A scientist of sorts, and I have brought you here to prove something.”
Rafael is becoming more alert now, his spine straightening as the sedative begins to wear off. He notices the small table positioned between them. A cloth is draped over the surface, concealing what lies beneath. His breathing quickens. I can see his chest rising and falling faster on the monitor.
“I suggest you examine what’s in front of you,” I urge. “Go ahead. Remove the cloth.”
Greg looks at Rafael, then at the covered table. With shaking fingers, he pulls away the fabric to reveal two identical pairs of dental forceps and two glass jars.
“You have fifteen minutes to extract as many of your own teeth as you can,” I say.
There’s a beat of silence as their minds process what their eyes are seeing, but refuse to comprehend.
“The person who removes the greatest number of teeth will live. The person who removes the fewest will die. If no dental material is removed, both of you will die. Understand?”
Rafael shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing. “No. No, that’s… You can’t be serious.”
“What the fuck?” Greg looks around the walls and the ceiling, trying to locate me. “We won’t do it. You can’t make us do this!”
“Oh, but I can. Greg, I should mention that your dental records show you have already lost your wisdom teeth. That gives you four fewer to work with. You might want to get started.”
I watch Greg’s face on the monitor, savoring every micro-expression, letting the joy of it filter through my body like the first hit of cocaine. The anger is there, yes, but underneath…
His eyes dart to Rafael. Then to the forceps.
Oh, how they love to pretend their devotion is eternal.
How they adore their little performance, their modern romance, so enlightened and progressive with their matching rings and legal certificates, as if a piece of paper from city hall means anything.
Three years of ‘till death do us part’ and ‘I’d die for you’ and all those other empty syllables people have been spouting since they first learned how to lie to each other.
The words change, but the rot underneath stays the same.
Barely thirty seconds in and already Greg’s pupils are dilating at the sight of those instruments.
He may think he would do anything to help Rafael, but he’ll give in to the pain in the end.
They always do. Every single time, they choose themselves, and every single time, I get to watch the pathetic unraveling of their repulsive little lies.
The ecstasy of it threatens to overwhelm me. It builds and builds and builds until I’m shaking with the sheer godlike feeling of absolute control.
I can hardly contain the glee as I activate the intercom one more time.
“You may begin.”