1

 

 

 

The newspaper clipping looked like it was a bit behind the times, making William think that he might be walking into some kind of set up, the kind of thing that would lead him off the edge of the Earth, never to be seen or heard from again. The promise of the thirty thousand, untaxed dollars, headlining the ad in bold text seemed like little reward for such a risk, but…

“It could change things,” he said to his friend, the classifieds flapping in his hands. The wind was blowing hard today; he didn’t think his normal routine of sitting on the stoop with a forty hidden just out of view of potential cops would work this afternoon. It wasn’t much of a drinking day; today was a day to think.

“Come on inside,” William said to his friend, shoving the clipping in his shirt pocket and standing up with his forty. They went inside his apartment and took a seat in a book and magazine littered den, the TV already turned to the start of the NBA Finals.

“So who takes the series,” William’s friend asked.

“Miami, Kendrick, who else? You know San Antonio is too old to do shit.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kendrick said, taking a seat on the sofa. “They have a solid squad this year. And don’t ever forget about Tim Duncan, determined to get that number five.”

William waved a dismissive hand. Kendrick reached forward and grabbed a book off the coffee table and looked at it.

“How To Know God, by Deepak Chopra.” He looked at his friend. “So you’re trying to get to know God, huh?”

“It’s to help your team after Miami sends to them to hell.”

“Thirty thousand, man,” Kendrick said suddenly, putting the book down and leaning back on the sofa. He kicked off his sneakers and put his feet up on coffee table, something that William didn’t mind. That coffee table was made of a sturdy oak, and there was no glass for his feet to break.

“Is it something that you want to do,” William said, looking at his friend. He tapped his right pocket, heard and felt the crinkle of the newspaper clipping that he had put inside. “I can give this to you man, let you use it.”

Kendrick shook his head. “No, that’s yours man. I don’t want no part of some kind of test. I mean, if they’re paying you that much than whatever they’re making you do must be serious business.”

“They say food and lodging is provided for six months though,” William said. “So I’ll be eating and have a place to stay, so right there, you know I’ll be taken care of.”

On the TV Lebron took a jumper and missed.

“Well you should do it then. Six months for thirty thousand untaxed dollars. Besides you just lost your job at that restaurant. This is a way to avoid another shitty job.” Kendrick chuckled. “I mean, you don’t want to fall into that trap again, do you? Working for the man.”

William scoffed. “I’d rather have another sorry job than get a job that requires me to eat pig shit, or requires me to take pills that blind me.” William took a slow drink of his beer, grimacing as Tim Duncan managed to make a basket. “No, it’s best to do the safe thing and deal with another job. I could save my money and always start a business.”

William knew what Kendrick was going to say before he even spoke. “Yeah, really? You’ve been saying that shit forever.” He suddenly brought both hands together in a single, loud clap as San Antonio managed to put another two points on the board, making William jump. “That’s what I’m talking about! Show these motherfuckers where they are!” Then casually, his eyes still on the screen, he said, “I’m not saying you would ever start a business, but thirty G’s would be a hell of a way to do it if you did, don’t you think? Shit, they say the minimum amount a man should start a business with is ten thousand dollars, Will. Ten thousand. With that little group study shit you’ll make three times that much in six months, and all the while they’ll be feeding you and providing you a place to stay. It means you have to spend none of your own money while you’re there.”

Kendrick was talking in his well-travelled voice as if he had personal experience in everything he was talking about, and this—as it usually did—frustrated William, but he didn’t say so. He had a sudden idea and decided to go with it.

“I’ll do it if you do it Kendrick, how about that?”

Kendrick looked at him, his eyebrows up, the expression on his dark brown face one of genuine surprise.

“Wow, my nigga, I’m surprised you’d even have the gall to ask me that shit.”

William’s face immediately turned to one of puzzlement. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff here, shit.”

“I got a job man,” he said in a clearly mocking tone, his lips curved in a half smile. He shrugged, added with an intentional air of snobbery and a British accent, “I will do no such thing.”

The friends burst out laughing as the game went to commercial, San Antonio out ahead.

“Well,” William said, sure he was going to have regrets for saying this. “I guess I could go out to the address they have listed and hear what they have to say. They’re going to set up an interview type thing to talk about it before the actual shit goes down a week later. So I could show up, see what it’s about. Still, whatever they tell me is probably going to be bullshit compared to what’s really going to happen? That’s my guess.”

“That’s true,” Kendrick said and stood up from the couch. “You got any more beer?”

 

 

2

 

People don’t like being tired. This is the thought that ran through William’s mind when he woke up early the next morning to take part in the group interview.

He had to make two transfers on the Denver bus line to make it to the location, and stepped off at a warehousing district, small buildings the size of backyard sheds running along the street on one side, and an open dirt field on the other. Far out he could see the twinkle of houses on a grass hill and wondered what kind of people lived in houses so far out from the city.

He was close to the location though, and had already asked the driver about the address before stepping off the bus. He took another look at the crinkled piece of advertisement that he’d read yesterday, then shoved it back into his pocket and continued walking on the side of the field with the road.

It didn’t take him long to notice a group of people in the distance, standing out in the field, in front of the only steel building visible on that side.

Strange, William thought, but felt comforted by the fact that he’d found what he was looking for. He had dressed light for the weather. He didn’t know how long he’d have to be out here, and he had brought a backpack with snacks and some bottles of water just in case he became thirsty.

He stepped into the field. Began to get a sense of just how many people had shown up to be a part of this meeting. Five hundred easily, he thought, taking everyone in. Everyone was gathered loosely together, watching one man, standing in a black shirt and a pair of khaki pants. The early morning breeze rushed over William’s skin, and he hoped—because he hadn’t checked the forecast—that Colorado didn’t choose today of all days to get cold. So far the summer had been unbearably hot.

He joined the group of diverse people, taking a moment to take in the different ages of everyone that stood around him. No one around looked older than thirty five. William looked up, standing at the edge of the crowd, and saw that the sky was mostly clear, with the exception of a few scattered clouds.

Yeah, it should be a nice day, he thought. The sun’s out and it’s June. It should be a very nice day. Take it as a good sign.

The person next to him handed him a pink pamphlet with a giant heart on the front, and he looked at it, perplexed. There were no words on the cover, just the heart. William opened it up.

On the inside of the cardstock cover he read the bold, black words,

 

ARE YOU READY FOR A STUDY ON LOVE?

 

William unconsciously smiled.

A study on love, huh, he thought.

He had the fleeting idea that he might end up in a room somewhere, jerking off to porn, while a camera mounted in a corner watched his every stroke. Then it was gone. Whatever this experiment was, William thought that that was unlikely.

“I’m definitely going to do this,” a white man in a long-sleeved brown shirt and khaki pants said. He had his arms folded, and was looking straight ahead. “This whole thing is pretty much about one-on-one time with another person.”

“Huh?”

“It says it in the pamphlet. Apparently you’re going to spend a little time with someone of the opposite sex—same sex if you claim you’re gay on the application—and they’re going to analyze your conversations.” He rubbed the fingers together on one hand. “Easy money.”

The man facing the group began to speak, his back to the shed. He was a white man who looked like he was in his late thirties—maybe the oldest here as well—but spoke like someone who had been doing these kinds of group studies for years.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, revealing a British accent. “Welcome. My name is Alexander Farmsworth.

So glad that you could come today.”

The crowd of people began to break up, allowing more people to get a better view of him. When William had a clear line of sight, his unease began to fade. He felt that out on this bright morning, with nothing to obstruct the man speaking to the group, that he could better gauge him, better avoid getting played during all of this.

“You are here today to be part of a revolutionary and hopefully very revealing study on the concept of love.” He gave his presentation well, William thought. His hand movements, full of expressive half arcs and some complimentary finger pointing whenever he said something nice about the group, were effective.

“It’s you,” he was saying, pointing with both his index fingers, “that will allow us to better understand what makes two people click, it’s you that will allow us to understand what makes two people begin to feel for each other, to care for each other, to want to be around each other. This is an experiment meant to follow the journey into love, the journey out of love, and all the nuances of a relationship. It’s meant to challenge the very fabric of love. As your pamphlet shows, my friends, if you decide to be a part of this experiment, you will spend exactly six months with one person. This person, you will talk with, eat with, spend quality time with. My friends, you will learn this person…” He paused then, his opens hands against each other in front of his face, thinking.

“But that is not to say that this won’t be fraught with difficulties. In our facility we will introduce each pair to a number of challenges to test the two of you and to see if you are ultimately brought together or driven apart. In order for the process to run smoothly I can give no more information other than what’s in the pamphlet and what I say in this speech. Something else to also mention—this experiment will not be held here, but in an undisclosed location that you will be driven to by associates of the organization.

“Food and lodging will be provided. Some entertainment, though I admit it is minimal, will also be provided. The person that you will be partnered with will be of the opposite sex, unless you state you desire otherwise. Your partner will be chosen by age and commonalities dictated by the requisite questionnaire that you will be taking with you if you decide to take part. Be truthful, because if you’re not you will make your time with us far more difficult because you will be mismatched.”

Oh man, William thought, his heart beat speeding up. Damn, haven’t even been in a relationship in the last three years.

And though he wasn’t a bad looking guy he had never been very good at talking to girls, at getting to know them, at making them even moderately interested in him.

“A couple of things worthy of note, I might add,” the man said, his index finger touching the bottom of his lip. “In order to be eligible for this experiment you will have to sign a contract giving up a number of your civil rights, and to be paid you have to pass a particular number of the challenges that will be given. More details on the contract and the challenges are also included in the very pamphlet you hold.”

The man next to William raised his hand, though the man speaking hadn’t stated that he was accepting questions.

“Yes,” Farmsworth said, pointing to him.

“Will our lives and health be at risk?”

The man chuckled. “Your lives, no. Your health, only moderately at the worse.”

There were too many thoughts swirling around in William’s head. Was this real? What kind of questions would be on the questionnaire? Could they make a mistake and pair him with the wrong person?

“Another condition,” the British man said. “Anyone here who wants to join will be able to assuming that they pass the questionnaire. But, the decision has to be made before you leave. If you refuse, that is okay. You will be given cab fare for the trip home, compliments of Lovra Pharmaceuticals, and your journey will end. Or, if you agree to continue on this journey, you will sign the contract today, and be given the questionnaire to take home with you.” The suited British man rubbed at a cheek. “You will fill out this questionnaire tonight, and mail it to the P.O. Box provided on the given envelope. From there, you will simply wait for us to contact you.”

William decided to ask a question, and raised his hand. Mr. Farmsworth called on him, his calm expression unchanged.

“Yeah…uh, the money. Will it be cash…check?”

“A check or cash, sir,” Farmsworth said with a smile. “You can indicate which you prefer on the questionnaire you will be sent home with if you elect to join.”

It was warming up outside now, but William somehow felt chillier at this point than he thought he should.

“And we don’t get to choose the girl?”

“Only the sex of the person is what you are allowed to choose,” Mr. Farmsworth said. “I can assure you that the age differential will be no more than ten years. And you will have at least a couple of things in common, and if you are fortunate, more.”

William felt his cheeks grow hot. “Is there going to be…uh, well…is there going to be, you know…sex involved.”

The crowd burst into laughter. The white man standing next to William clapped him on the back.

“I hope so,” he whispered and chuckled.

“I cannot answer that question,” Mr. Farmsworth said. “It’s something you will learn on during the experiment.”

“Will the other person…I mean…”

God, I need to phrase this right.

“How will they look?”

“Excellent question sir,” Mr. Farmsworth said, his hands now clasped behind his back. “You will be paired with someone based on a scale that allows no more than a two point five differential.” Mr. Farmsworth chuckled. “Surely, everyone here has participated in rating your male and female counterparts over the course of your lives on a scale of one through ten. Well our scale works on the same principle.”

William was still confused. “So…”

“So, you will not be paired with anyone who under-ranks or outranks you by more than two point five. Our general rule. I’ll give you an example. You sir, I’m going to go ahead—and don’t take this to the bank, I am only giving an example, mind you—and say that you are a seven point five. You may get a girl that’s ranked at a ten or ranked at a five, but you will not end up with a girl that’s a 4.5. Do you understand?”

“How will I know what I’m ranked at?”

“Well our specialists will be the ones that determine this. It is a number that will be kept from you and the girl that you are partnered up with. Your partner may be in the group standing here, or be sent from a completely different location involved in the same project.”

Mr. Farmsworth continued to speak to the group, William’s mind on the possibilities of the kind of girl that could show up.

Am I a 7.5, he wondered. Maybe.

At the highest he was an eight, no more than that. So ending up with a perfect ten was a possibility. But looking around at the crowd of girls around him, many of which he couldn’t get a good look at, he didn’t think that’d be the case. Still, he couldn’t end up with anything lower than a five and that was good, though a five would be a disappointment for sure.

Wow, William thought. Kendrick’s going to lose his mind when he hears about this.

“So, let’s get to it ladies and gentleman. We have to keep this moving. If you are interested please come into the shed to fill out a contract.”

And what are you going to do if I go in there, William thought, crossing his arms. You wouldn’t have a nice, sterilized, hypodermic needle waiting for me, would you?

Some men and women stood around, some in pairs and some alone, probably thinking the same thing or something that might cause them to hesitate. A few moved quickly, the doors already propped open by a couple of door stops two men in jumpers had placed.

Thirty thousand dollars, William thought, the crowd completely broken up. The sun was a bright, unobstructed circle in the sky. A cool breeze brushed by, chilling him. For a second he considered taking off his backpack, and digging inside for his sweatshirt. It would give him more time to think. Half the crowd had already dispersed.

What about there being a chance of falling in love?

Truth was he didn’t believe that could happen. Fact was he didn’t have enough details about the experiment to know what would actually go on. Mr. Farmsworth had barely provided a general outline and now he’d forced everyone into having to make a decision so it was hard for them to leave and come to their senses.

Because that’s what it is right, William thought. A case of me struggling to come to my senses?

William put on his sweatshirt, zipped up his backpack and rose to his feet. From the looks of it, about a third of the people were headed away from the shed, back toward the street that William had been walking along before crossing into the field.

William rubbed his hands together and blew warm air into them, unsure why he was doing this. His hands weren’t particularly cold. He supposed it was just a nervous habit.

He could see the opening of the metal shed but couldn’t see inside. For a few moments he remained where he was.

I just want a closer look, he thought, and approached the shed.

 

 

3

 

 

A week later William paced his living room, his mind off on a drunken tangent as rain peppered the apartment windows and ESPN sports commentators discussed the ass-kicking that Miami was being handed on behalf of the San Antonio Spurs.

He was broke. Well, not so true, he did have seven dollars and some change to his name. The fact was that he was not going to be a part of this love experiment. These assholes, after getting him all excited at the prospect of making money—nerve-racking as that excitement had been—hadn’t contacted him. He’d left his phone number and address and email. He hadn’t been contacted by mail, email, or phone, which in all likelihood meant that he’d given some answer—probably the answer on orgies—that they hadn’t liked.

“Bunch of assholes,” William muttered to himself. There’d been a pink eviction notice taped to his door when he had arrived home after drinking at the bar. This was something that he had foreseen last week, but he hadn’t worried because he knew if he became a participant in the experiment, that he wouldn’t have to worry about living here. He’d have a place to stay for six months—assuming he didn’t fail in something—and when he left he’d have thirty K to his name. He’d be able to move anywhere.

But now he was fucked. Now—

Then came the knock that changed everything. Three hard raps on the door, loud enough to break him from his negative thoughts and bring him back to the present.

“And who the fuck could that be,” he said aloud, standing in his living room in nothing but a wife-beater and his pajama pants.

Kendrick didn’t knock like that, and unless he gave William a heads up, he would never show up this late. William grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and checked the time.

10:30pm.

Swaying a little, with everything a blur through his reddened eyes, William shouted,

“Who is it?”

But no one said a thing, only left him there, staring from a living room littered with trash, and alive with moving shadows courtesy of the television light touching on random items.

“Fuck,” William thought, hoping that the apartment hadn’t tried to work out some kind of deal to evict him tonight. Apartments could be sketchy like that.

Ridiculous, a voice spoke up in his head. Hurry up and answer the fucking door.

And he stumbled across his junk-littered den to do just that. He opened the door and saw two men, partially silhouetted, and both wearing large white coats.

Those jackets aren’t even appropriate for rain weather, William thought.

“Mr. Grady,” one of the men said. He sounded like Tommy Lee Jones but seemed to stand a hundred feet taller than the actual man.

“Yeah, I’m him.”

“Come with us now, sir,” the man said, his hand reaching out and grabbing Grady just above the elbow. The second man took hold of his other elbow.

“Get the hell off me,” William protested at once, as he was yanked out of his apartment and forced onto the front stoop. The grip on each elbow tightened like a vice. Cold rain poured against his face, the suddenness of the sensation uncomfortable but doing little to bring him out of his drunken state. Still, the environment was spinning, and everything was moving too fast for his intoxicated brain to fully process. It was a world of dark shadows and outlines and the coldest moisture, and in all this rushed craziness, William couldn’t even make out the moon. Before he knew it he was being picked up, the weak light seen through the open door of his home, shrinking as he was forced, kicking and screaming into the back seat of an awaiting van.

“Is this Lovra! What the FUCK!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MONTH 1

 

 

1

 

They’d knocked him out somehow, gave him some kind of drug. That was the first thought that occurred to him when he regained consciousness. As far as being at home drinking, or the rainy night, or the men that had shown up at the door, he thought of none of those things at first. Just—

They knocked me out. Drugged me in some way.

He had a headache. Could see the faintest hints of light through his closed lids. Another thought occurred to him then, and it was enough to make him open his eyes at once.

They dragged me out of my apartment and left the door open. All my stuff! My fucking wallet was on the kitchen counter!

It was a blur at first, and as his eyes adjusted the first thing he noticed was a metal ceiling at least twelve feet high. It had recessed lighting. He sat up with a groan, one hand on his forehead. He still had his eyes squinted; his headache had grown worse when he’d opened them.

Steel Walls, he thought, observing that he was in a four-squared room before he noticed the minimal furnishings provided.

The room was perhaps the size of an average motel room, with a higher ceiling. He no longer wore the clothes that they had taken him in, he realized, but instead a pair of white pajamas. He had almost thought they’d dressed him in prison attire, but the fabric was soft, strong, comfortable. These pajamas, whatever the fabric, were expensive.

He heard something. Looked across the room. Someone was lying in a bed on the other side.

The girl, William thought. He didn’t spend much time on her though, and instead proceeded to examine the room. The floor was covered in a plush, white carpet that was soft against William’s feet. There was a pair of slippers by the bed, but William didn’t put them on. There was a wide screen TV affixed to the wall and on the opposite side of the room a two-seater sofa.

William stood up from his bed, extended his arms and fingers and stretched, letting out a long, screeching yawn. He became light-headed immediately after and struggled for a couple of moments to stay on his feet.

There wasn’t a lot of walking room in this space, but perhaps more room to move around outside. Plus, he could find an official to tell him why the hell they’d dragged him out of his apartment instead of politely escorting him to the site. He would’ve complied. After all, his situation had been desperate.

It was warm in here. Warmer than his apartment had been at the time he had been yanked out by the gigantic silhouetted, men. Had they cleaned him up? He felt clean. Shoved his nose into one of his armpits and confirmed, in fact, that he was clean.

“What the hell’s going on here,” he said hoarsely. His legs were shaky, weak. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to remain on his feet for more than a couple of minutes.

Jesus, what kind of drugs did they put in me?

His throat hurt. He shuffled in the direction of the couch, his eyes shooting left and right in search of a door, or a fridge, or something that would give him access to something to drink. Something caught his eye midway across the room, and he approached the wall on his right. It was a little metal slot with the word MAIL carved into it. It came up to William’s lower chest. He slid his fingers over the words, felt the cold metal against the tips of his fingers.

No door, he thought, looking around with a bit more energy. Where’s the door to get out of here? Hell where’s the phone for the calls I was promised.

After a few more moments of searching he spotted what looked like a bigger compartment on the opposite side of the room. He approached it. It was perhaps four feet tall and wide. There was no knob, nothing to indicate that it could be opened other than the square outline.

He knelt down, pushed against it. It didn’t budge. The metal was just as cold as the metal of the mail slot flap.

You’re just missing it, William thought. The door’s around, you’re just missing it.

His heartbeat was picking up, though. Enough so that he actually started to feel it in his throat. If he was forced to speak right now he’d sound like a man who suffered from a pronounced stutter. He was having trouble simply taking in a full breath.

He straightened up, looked around the room for another potential exit. He looked at the ceiling, suddenly felt lightheaded and looked away, then did a three-sixty, scanning all four walls of the room.

“Help,” he said. Then a bit louder, his hands cupped to his mouth, “Help!”

He hadn’t read anything about being locked in a room. He thought that his time spent in the room with whatever partner was chosen for him would be a few hours a day, and he’d be able to spend the rest of the time exploring the area and taking advantage of whatever amenities Lovra Pharmaceuticals provided.

“Help!”

He suddenly felt like a child, duped into something by the promise of a reward that was never intended.

“Help!”

He felt more lightheaded than ever, and his headache—Jesus Christ—it was a killer.

Suddenly, he was beginning to feel trapped. His breath was becoming short. He lost his balance and fell to the carpeted floor on his way back to his bed. He remained where he was for a couple of moments, trying to catch his breath. After two minutes of this, he pushed himself up with shaky arms and crawled on his hands and knees the rest of the way.

He climbed up onto his bed, onto the soft mattress, and rolled over on his back. He decided to catch his breath, and think from a position where he wasn’t at risk of passing out and colliding with something. Amazingly, he was asleep three minutes later.

 

2

 

The blanket was yanked off him and thrown toward the center of the compact, metal room. It woke William up at once, and he scrambled into a sitting position, blinking. His vision wasn’t quite as blurry as the first time he had woken up, and this time his eyes fixed directly on the girl that shared this space with him.

“Wake up kid. We have our first challenge.”

There

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.06.2016
ISBN: 978-3-7396-5885-8

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