An Uncontrolled Social Experiment #4
“Same duration?”
“Of course.”
“No external modifications?”
“You’re the structure expert, you tell me.”
The host shifted beside them, energy lifting dramatically from the hidden, quiet personality that had been there seconds ago. “Oh, I love this—”
Riley didn’t hear the rest, because the framework already clicked. She knew how to pull off a research experiment better than most, let alone a personal trainer. She would get her results and prove him wrong. And she would feel good doing it.
“Yes.”
The word left before she had fully tested it.
Riley felt it immediately. The misalignment, the sequence error she had just made.
She needed to let herself think about this logically.
She could already see that she had let her frustration and stubbornness get in the way, she had to correct her answer…
“Done,” he said.
Shit. The reaction in the room was immediate. It wasn’t loud, but it was there: a subtle lift in energy, a quiet recognition that something unscripted had taken shape. The host let out a soft, surprised laugh, leaning in with renewed interest.
“Okay, now this is interesting,” she said, her tone bright and perky, that suggested she had already decided to capitalise on the conversation. “A real-world test: science meets physicality in an experiment. I think people at home would absolutely want to see that.”
Riley didn’t respond straight away. For the first time since the conversation had begun, her attention shifted from the discussion itself to the structure surrounding it.
The cameras, the flirty host. The way the conversation drifted so far from its original parameters without her noticing quickly enough to correct it.
Her clothes suddenly felt too tight against her skin, the heat in the room wrong somehow, suffocating and cold all at once.
Breathe, Riley.
The words reached her, but they didn’t settle. Her focus already turned inward, reorganising with a clarity that arrived too late to be useful. She moved her legs away from the couch now, only just registering how itchy and uncomfortable the fabric felt against her skin.
What started as a controlled discussion on cognitive frameworks shifted into something reactive. Correction layered over correction, until the shape of it no longer resembled discussion at all.
Beside her, Declan shifted back into his seat with an ease that felt entirely unaffected by the shift in tone. If anything, he appeared more comfortable in it.
Riley registered that. He was not caught off guard, not once.
He had followed her reasoning without resistance, met her precision without dismissing it, and then redirected the conversation until it aligned with his terms. He had just played her like a violin.
The conclusion settled without friction.
Her gaze shifted, briefly, toward the main camera.
The red light was still on, steady and unyielding.
The host’s voice cut through more clearly then, bright and deflective. “Thank you for being here with us today, we’ll be right back after the break. Don’t go anywhere.”
The red light dimmed.
The change in the room was immediate. The stillness dissolved into movement, voices rising slightly, someone speaking just off to the side, another adjusting equipment.
Riley did not move. She could see Declan shifting back towards her again in her periphery.
“You always like that?” he asked, his voice lower now, stripped of the projection it carried moments earlier.
Riley turned her head, her expression previously frustrated now composed. “Like what?”
His mouth curved, this time with restraint. “You don’t let things go,” he said. “Once you spot something, you have to fix it.”
Riley held his gaze. The phrasing was light, almost complimentary. The timing was not, it followed too neatly from the exchange, sitting in place as though it was anticipated rather than observed. As though he was waiting for it.
“I prefer accuracy,” she said. “Something you do not seem to comprehend.”
There was a brief pause. “Uh huh,” he replied, still watching her. He was smiling unabashedly at her now.
She could not stand it, the implication behind his expression. And uh huh wasn’t even a professional terminological agreement. Riley let the silence sit for a moment, just long enough to think through her thoughts rationally.
“I don’t work with people who manipulate outcomes,” she said. Her tone didn’t change. “Your approach, as observed from that interview relies on that, and it’s not one I engage with.”
There was a flicker of something in his expression, brief, but the grin still didn’t leave his face. Riley stood.
“I won’t be participating in any experiments,” she added, more out of completion than necessity. “Especially not with you.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t look back as she stepped away, the movement of the room beginning to return around her.
She had taken only a few steps when his voice carried after her-
“Riley.” She refused to stop. “I’ll see you soon.”
Like it had already been decided.