“Ya can’t do it on your own, boy.”
“I have to,” I tell him. “I’m the only son.”
I wake.
The lights in the lab are as bright as ever, but the room is empty. I rarely wake before Riley arrives, but I sense it’s earlier than usual.
The dream plays through my head again. It’s all so familiar—the red barn, the white house with cracked shutters, and the young girl who brings out such strong emotions in me. The older man was new to me though. I don’t remember him from other dreams.
Not a dream.
Sitting up in the bed, I take several deep breaths and stretch my arms above my head. I wonder how long it will be until Riley arrives and what she will have in store for me today. The recent simulations have been difficult, and she told me more were to come. I’m nearing the point where I’ll join some of the other volunteers so we can learn to work together.
Volunteers.
I’m not so sure anymore.
He called me by name. He called me “Galen.”
I open my mouth, nearly uttering the name aloud just so I can hear it, but after a quick glance to the mirror on the wall, I keep silent. It’s been a while since I’ve woken up with a beard or a haircut or having forgotten going to bed altogether. I am no longer losing chunks of time.
I have my suspicions. Even though Riley has denied it, I’m sure they have continued to remove bits of my memoires since I arrived here. I have no doubt that I’ve had similar dreams in the past and that I’ve told them to Riley.
I’ve dreamed of the same place many times now—a farm in the middle of dry, cracked earth. Each dream has included the blonde-haired girl.
I have a sister.
Sometimes I sense that she is in danger. I want to help her, but I can’t. Someone always stops me. Details are elusive, and I wake with a dark, gnawing feeling in my chest.
“Good morning, Sten.”
That’s not my name.
I return Riley’s greeting as she steps through the doorway with a tablet in her hand. There’s a sliver of blue beneath her lab coat today, and her shoes match the bright color. She never wears make up or jewelry, and today is no exception. Only the brightness of her clothing, which is usually earth-toned, is different.
“How did you sleep?” she asks.
“Fine.” I have to fight against an urge to talk about my dream. Now that I’m in her presence, my mistrust wavers. I focus on her every movement as she goes about checking my vitals. Every time her fingers touch my skin, the sensation travels straight to my dick.
I haven’t tried anything with her—not since I shoved her against the wall in the virtual simulation room. Every day, the desire is there. No, not desire—it’s much more than that. It’s a deep-seated need, but I’ve managed to keep my restraint.
Barely.
“It’s time for another round,” Riley says. She reaches into one of the table drawers and brings out a syringe. There’s a tray full of vials on top of the table. I lie back on the bed, and she slips the needle into my arm. The liquid feels cold. I can feel it spreading through my veins.
Six injections. By the time she’s done, my skin is tingling, my dick is hard, and I can’t stop clenching my hands.
“Feels different,” I say.
“I’m increasing your dosage,” Riley tells me.
“Why?”
“You’ve done so well, I thought it was about time to up the ante.” She grins down at me, but I don’t see the humor.
I find it strange that I understand her reference to a poker game but can’t recall who I really am besides a name and a girl from a dream. Card games don’t seem like the kind of thing that would have been included in my programming.
“Your body actually gets used to the dose,” she says, clarifying. “We have to increase the dosage to keep seeing more progress.”
“You said I’ve been doing well.”
“You have been.” She places the syringes along with the vials in a bag and deposits them on the table by the door. “I do need you to perform exceptionally well during the tests today.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Captain Mills,” Riley says. “She’s heard a lot about how well you’re progressing, and she wants to see you for herself.”
“Mills? As in the Mills Conglomerate?”
“Exactly,” she says. “Captain Heather Mills is the niece of Graham Mills, the head of the corporation.”
“What does she do here?”
“She’s the head of Project Mindstorm, overseeing my work and that of the other doctors here. She’s also in charge of all the military developments of the technical teams.”