Jeffrey Thomas - Subject 11

She was changing into her clean set of scrubs when she looked up and saw that young 7 had trailed into the room after her, and was watching her as she removed her towel, revealing her still damp body. “Is something wrong?” 1 asked sharply.

“No… sorry… I was, um, just reading your tattoo, there. ONE LIFE TO LIVE.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I have a philosophical tattoo, myself. Here.” 7 turned around and lifted her top with one hand, pulling down the back of her pants with the other, to reveal a tattoo nestled in the small of her back. In flowery, scrolling type surrounded by sparkles were the words LIFE’S NO STORYBOOK.

“Cute,” 1 said. But she didn’t show her own lower back tattoo, of a Mobius strip. She donned her clothing as quickly as possible.

Looking elsewhere awkwardly, 7 stammered, “I like your glasses… they’re cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Um… so you’re a vegetarian, huh?”

“My Mom died of cancer. I try to live healthy to avoid the same fate.”

“Oh man… I’m sorry about that.”

Glancing toward the young woman as she straightened the hem of her top, and feeling a little guilty for her snappy tone, 1 said, “So you found more of that graffiti, huh?”

“Yeah.” 7 took this as an invitation to face her. “That makes three places I know of in this facility, including the confessional.”

“The confessional! Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Usually I do my confession early, but today I put it off… and then I forgot about it altogether.”

“Oh wow. Well you’d better go do it now, then. I’m sure they keep track of these things. It’s what we’re getting paid for.”

1 looked toward the doorway to the sleeping quarters dubiously. Reluctantly. “Yeah, I know.”

“What’s wrong? You afraid to go over there alone? It’s just a couple rooms over. I can go with you, and wait in the cafeteria if you want.”

1 was still uncomfortable with the young woman’s attentions, remembering how she had seemed to be staring at her exposed body. “No, that’s okay,” she said. She slipped on her stylish glasses with their white frames. “I can go alone. Like you said, it’s not far… and I’ll only give them a couple minutes, just to make it look good.”

“10 and I were trying to figure out what this place was,” 9 said to the wall in the closed confession room. “He says factory, but I was thinking hospital or prison. I didn’t tell him I’ve worked in real estate. Or that I wasn’t much good at it. Had the smarts, but just not aggressive enough. Anyway , to be honest his guess is as good as mine. I never exactly sold abandoned… whatever this property was, before. I’m curious how much you paid to rent it.”

Restless in her chair, she knotted her hands between her legs as if in secret prayer. “But I don’t know — now I’m feeling sorry I ever agreed to this. It’s really not enough money to be living like this, even for a short time. Drinking rusty water, showering in rusty water, living in this place that’s probably full of toxic waste, with these… people .

“I’m not even sure what the point of it all is. Today 10 said Dr. Onsay told him it was a study in ‘social integration.’ I said Dr. Onsay told me it was a study of ‘temporal distortion.’ I’m sure that’s what he said. 10 just laughed and said, ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ Then he thought about what I said and he asked me, ‘Did you say he ?’ And I said, ‘What?’ And he said, ‘Talking about Dr. Onsay, did you call her a he ?’ And I said, ‘ Her ? What do you mean, her ? Yes, Dr. Onsay is a man.’ And 10 said, ‘Well, I guess I can see how you might think that. She’s definitely on the masculine side. But the person who interviewed me was a woman.’ And I said, ‘Well, he was definitely gay, but he was definitely a man.’ Maybe it wasn’t even the same person. Maybe there are a number of different people working on this project, and they’re all using the same fake name.”

9 yawned, and went on, “But you know who you are, right Dr. Onsay?” She was about to rise from the office chair and go seek out her sleeping bag, when she settled her weight again and said, “Oh… right before I came in here I was finishing up my clothes and towels in the laundry, when I looked out the window in there and I saw someone standing in one of the lit windows in that old building 5 was talking about at lunch. It was just an outline, but it was definitely a person looking back over this way. It gave me the creeps, because it felt like they were looking at me, too. It was probably one of our team, gone over there to poke around. But it might have been you, too, huh Dr. Onsay? Right? Could’ve been you — or one of you.”

“What I wouldn’t give for some music ,” 7 told the close walls of the confessional. “Or a TV. Or just to check my email. God — you couldn’t let us have one laptop we could share? When I signed up, I didn’t really stop to think about the stuff I’d miss. The things I rely on.

“I miss weed, too, but I guess that’s too much to ask.” She snorted. “At least I’m thankful you give us soap, toothpaste and toilet paper, so I don’t feel like a total savage.

“Another thing I really miss about not having a computer is being able to work on my art. I’m a pretty damn good artist, I’ll have you know; I’ll be going back to school in the fall. Most of my stuff is done on the computer, but I wish I at least had a sketchbook with me. The boredom here will kill me. By the way, that’s some pretty wild graffiti we’re seeing around — was that stuff already here before you rented the place? And those doll heads we found; it reminds me of an art project I did in high school, where I made a baby’s crib mobile out of doll heads.”

7 paused to release a great sigh, then resumed, “Well, frankly I’ve been masturbating like crazy to take the edge off my stress. I lie down between 5 and 9 every night. I don’t mean snuggled between them — though that would ne nice — but it still makes me feel kind of… you know. I feel closest to 5, but 9 is more attractive. She must be almost forty, but she’s still hot. The guys seem most attracted to 3 — I can feel these things — but I don’t see it myself. She just seems dirty to me. I don’t mean because she’s an Asian or whatever she is, I just mean… I don’t know. I just don’t like her vibe, like she’s really this sleazy conniving little bitch who comes across as all cute and shit. She acts as though she doesn’t like the guys checking her out, but you know she really thrives on it. She must bring out their inner pedophile, because she’s so teeny. Maybe she brings out their inner bisexual, too, because she’s built like a little boy, and she has this pretty little boy face. Not my kind of woman.

“And none of the guys appeal to me. As usual with guys, they’re either assholes — like 8 and 10 — or boring, like 2 and 4. I haven’t figured out which type the black guy, 6, is… but he is the youngest, so if I had to choose I’d go with him. But I choose not to choose. Anyway, today I saw 6 talking with 3 at the mess hall table, when they were the only ones in the room until I came in, and 6 was holding her hand while they talked, but he let go and they looked all embarrassed when they saw me. Christ. She’s gotta be ten years older than him, but he must have Asianitis, too. Then later, I saw 2 looking for 3… he was asking people if they knew where she was. He asked me, too, and I said I didn’t know. It was a pitiful sight indeed. He was like a big stupid dog whose master has left him home alone. I didn’t mention to 2, so I don’t know if he realized it himself, that 6 wasn’t around either.