can't remember anything,” I admit. His pleased look dissolves. He takes off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve and responds, "Hmm…that must be bothersome." The words sound guilty. Is he joking? Having no memory is a bit more than bothersome. “The nurse mentioned something about starting over? She said I should talk to you about it.” He averts his eyes. “I really couldn’t say. I’ll speak to her about it.” This is getting weirder by the second. What are they hiding from me? My eyes dart nervously around "Could you tell me where I am?" "You're at the Richland Institute,” Morris offers. "The Richland Institute is a research and education center created to encourage s elect individuals to cultivate their latent potential and further the evolution of the human race." The speech sounds scripted. Evolution? Like monkeys and Darwin? Exasperated, I ask, "What can I do to serve evolution?" "We all perform our part,” he answers cryptically. That’s a bullshit answer. Gonna need more info than that. "Why does my part necessitate bars on my windows and a bolted door?” Hostility creeps into my voice. Clutching the arms on the wheelchair, I try not to lash out at him. God grant me the strength not to yell. Dr. Morris apprehensively shifts from one foot to the other worrying his hands together behind his back. "Miss Ryan you don’t need to get agitated. Today is very busy. We must hasten, or we'll be late." Screw that! I’m not going anywhere with him. “I want to go home. Who do I need to talk to so I can leave?” I ask. “I don’t think that would be wise. You would be leaving against medical advice,” he tells me. “I don’t care! I want out of here now! Give me the papers and I’ll sign them.” I yell at him. He frowns. “After the test we have scheduled for today, I’ll speak to Mr. Richland on your behalf.” I want to get up and walk out but I can’t. My legs are weak. What did they do to me? The test he spoke of, what if it does something worse to me? My fingers nervously pull at the gown over my thighs. He turns me around and heads to the elevator. We get out on the sixth floor and stop outside
a steel door. A bank vault? Guards stand sentry on either side carrying big ass guns. Those guns look like they pack a serious punch. Note to self, don’t get shot. Doctor Morris flashes a security badge and a guard punches in a string of numbers on a console. The keypad chirps and the door opens. With an ominous moan, it hefts its own weight swinging outward. Inside is a tiled chamber similar to the ones in my room, but these are rusty brown instead of a snowy white. Dr. Morris helps me out of the wheelchair and stepping over the large mouth of the door. He leaves me. I jump as the behemoth door seals with a bang, I hear gears pushing locks into place. The motion was a reflex and on my shaky legs almost brought me to my knees. I put a hand against the wall to steady myself. Crouched in the corner is a man. He has an average build, tawny skin and a mane of dark dark hair. If I had to guess, I would say he’s South American. It startles me when he looks at me and cries, "No, not again!" He begins to rock back and forth twisting on his hair. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he freaking out? Is he afraid of me? Too many questions, I want answers. “Sir, do you know me?” I ask. I take a few steps towards him, which sends him into a panic. He looks ready to climb the walls to escape. Oo-kay. Never mind. I can take a hint. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. I retreat to the opposite side of the room. Putting my back to the wall, I slide down to sit. Drains are in the floor. Overhead are sprinklers. A window takes up a good portion of one wall; from the ceiling to about waist high. Men dressed in expensive suits assemble on the opposite side. Are they here to watch me shower? Perverts. A voice shatters my thoughts. I look back at the voyeurs. The speaker is an elderly man, with grayish hair cropped fashionably close to his head. A charming smile plays across his lips, his voice is smooth but it makes my skin crawl. "Rachel meet Alonzo”, he points to the man trembling in the corner. “Dr. Morris informs me you misplaced your memory again. My name is Stuart Richland. You haven’t been in this part of the facility before. We call this the testing tank. Here is where we analyze the truth of the phrase