“Come right this way,” the Doctor said as I got up from the chair in the waiting room. He was wearing a long white coat and the harsh strip lighting bounced off his thick glasses. I thought it funny that Doctors still wore long lab coats. It somewhat of a cliché in this age and I found this somewhat peculiar, but I didn’t feel compelled to mention his attire. He knew, as did everyone else in the building that had laid their eyes on me as I walked in, that I was desperate.
We moved through a room in which a receptionist sat with her head buried in the latest Vogue magazine. The Doctor gestured to her as we moved past and through a door at the other end of the hallway.
The room took me by surprise: It was illuminated but with no obvious source of light. The walls were a scaled grey like one might find on a fish that had been pulled out of the water prior to being flayed. The object of my focus, however, was the chair that stood empty in the middle of the room.
He gestured for me to take a seat, to which I complied. Despite my growing anxiety, like spiders hatching in my stomach, I reframed from asking any questions about what was about to unfold.
The screening process was simple, with but one question on the application form.
Are you desperate for change in your life?
The answer to that was a resounding ‘Yes,’ to which I filled in the application in the paper and submitted it. I was happy to hear that just a few days later, I had received correspondence through the post with the Sigil of the establishment from the ‘Facility of Emotional and Adrenal Research,’ (or ‘F.E.A.R’ for short) arrive on the carpet of my one-bedroom flat.
Thankfully I hadn’t slept very well, meaning when the letter box rattled, I was upon the envelope in seconds. The discarded beer cans and half-finished pizza boxes that lined the floor cushioned the letter like the falling of a feather on snow.
Upon arrival, I completed the medical questionnaire and presented my identification. The box labelled ‘Emergency contact’ remained blank. However, I imagined given my acceptance of such an experimental proposal, that this made me a further A grade candidate.
The Doctor studied me as I sat myself down in the chair, as I studied the furnishing itself.
“Why is it bolted to the floor?” I inquired, my voice falling flat in the empty room. At first, I was unsure if he had heard me, but his moustache quivered as his mouth craned into a stretched grin.
“It’s just a precaution.” He left the room for a moment, leaving me to my own thoughts. He returned with a small leather bag and opened the flap which lay like a dead tongue. I eyed the dark innards like a mystery box one might find in a fairground attraction, daring you to place your hand inside its fleshy mouth if you’re brave enough.
He produced a line of leather that resembled a coiled snake. My heart fluctuated, and a sharp intake of breath escaped my lips. The Doctor stopped and eyed me with ashen eyes.
“Worried?”
I shook my head and forced a wry smile. He relaxed and continued to produce more leather straps from the bag. I scolded myself mentally.
Keep a lid on it, I thought. You need this. You need the money. The fresh start. Don’t mess it up.
He took out the leather braces and wrapped them around my wrists and ankles, fastening me to the chair.
“How are those?” He said, as he pulled the buckles and restraints tight. I again nodded. They were tight and I could feel the circulation beginning to dwindle. A prickling developed in the tips of my fingers. Still, I held that strained smile.
The Doctor finished securing the binds and took one final contraption out of the bag. It resembled a bicycle helmet with green and blue diodes attached to the top, resembling lightbulb filaments. He secured the silver instrument to my head and fastened it with a strap under my chin. He stood back, marvelling his work.
“The experiment is simple,” he said, with the same nonchalance as he would if he was telling a passer-by the time. “It has three stages. The first – A count of thirty seconds. Upon completion, you will receive five thousand pounds.” My heartbeat picked up. “The second stage – three minutes, and you will receive one hundred thousand pounds.” Sweat began to creep along my brow. “And the third and final step of the experiment, is for ten minutes, to which we will award you five hundred thousand pounds.” He checked the straps over. “How does that sound?” I tried to nod, but I couldn’t move my neck. “Click your fingers if you are happy with that?” I did. He nodded.
“I will be in the other room monitoring your heartbeat, hormone levels and brain function. If at any point,” he continued, “You wish the experiment to be over, simply click your fingers or shout out for it to stop, and we will shut the machine off. However, if we feel you are becoming too… excitable, then we will end the experiment on your behalf.”
He tapped a small circular disk on the arm of the chair. “This dial is graded from blue to red. The needle will give you an indication of your stress levels. Blue being you are floating on a cloud. Red, you are at risk of heart failure. For your own peace of mind.”
Peace of mind, I thought. Thanks.
He stood behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Your safety is our main concern,” he said, with a jovial tone. “Thank you for helping the F.E.A.R research facility. We thank you for your cooperation.” He stood in front of me then, his face now awash with concern, whether real or imagined.
“However, one caveat. Payment is only available to those who complete either steps one, two or three. If you accept stage one and begin stage two, any ejection from the experiment will result in no monies paid.” His tone was serious and grave, like explaining how to tie a harness before you dive off of a cliff. “You must commit to completion of the next stage. It’s part of the test.”
A world of excuses and possibilities swam around my mind like black water filled with hungry sharks. Dare I dive into that snapping abyss and pull myself out before it got too late? The fear in my heart began to swell like a straining balloon filling with septic bile, but I pushed it down to the depths of my stomach. In desperation, it would seem, man was capable of resorting to self-annihilation.
The Doctor waited for a response. The silence so thick I could hear my own blood pumping around my body.
“I’ll take your silence as a wish to continue.” He moved to the door and placed his hand on the handle before turning back to me. “Just remember,” he said. “Whatever you see, feel or hear can’t hurt you.” With that, he left the room, and the black rectangle on the blank wall fired into life with a countdown of thirty.
“Are you ready to begin?” His voice sounded tinny, pushing through a speaker from somewhere unseen. I thought this to be another test, and so I remained silent. Seeing if he could break my resolve with a form of abandonment anxiety. A drone bellowed out from the speaker, and the counter began.
The first thing I felt was a feeling of nausea, but I put that down to nerves. I could taste the money already, and the new life that came with it. A new home. Rehab. A girlfriend. New clothes. A working shower. A holiday to somewhere hot with orange juice instead of whisky. A new -
The prickle of hairs on my leg pulled me from my daydreaming. The dial began to move from the end of blue towards the dull green. I breathed deeply. Only twenty seconds left on the clock.
I saw its shape creep over onto my knee. It was huge. The largest I had ever seen in my life. I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they would splinter. I swallowed dryly. How did they know I suffered from this fear? Was it the machine? Had they been watching me?
The tarantula, brown and bulbous, fingered its way up onto my lap and then my stomach. I could see the glint of the light bouncing off its eyes. The venom dripping from its fangs.
17…16…
The spider slowly continued north towards my face. Its legs pulled at the fabric of my clothing like unlatching Velcro. Goosebumps ravaged my skin. The room grew hotter. My clothes sticking to me.
10…9…
Its legs prickled my neck. Two of its legs fingered my lip as I clenched them tight to hold back the scream that was bubbling in my throat. The thing crawled onto my face. I could smell it. The stench of dust and dead rodents. Its needle-like fur sticking into my cheeks and eyelids. I had to close my eyes. Had to stop it from getting closer. But I couldn’t. I was frozen in a perpetual terror like I had caught a glance of medusa herself. All I could see was its shape in my vision, blocking out the light of the room.
Its fangs pierced through the soft shell of my eye, burying deep into the jelly inside.
The scream came then. A loud bark as pain so indescribable rampaged through me. I rattled in the bolted chair, fingers splayed trying to break free. The monster hung from my bleeding eye socket as it chewed and suckled and fed. Blood thick like hot jam seeped from the wound. Gelatinous fragments filtered inside my screaming mouth. Copper mixed with my saliva as I coughed and heaved.
I felt hands grip hold of me. A cacophony of voices barraging my ears through spastic hiccups of agony that expelled from my ragged lungs.
I snapped my eyes open to see the Doctor staring at me with disdain. Another man behind him, built and broad and mean-looking. I looked around. I was unharmed. The leather binds had bitten and gnawed at my flesh. The sensation of burning stinging along my wrists. My eyes, both of them, were completely fine. I frantically looked around the room, abating my wailing and replacing it with complete dissolution.
“Where…” I coughed over and over. “Where is it?” Tears fell from my eyes, dousing my reddening cheeks.
I looked up at the counter. I had four seconds left. Four seconds away from a new life.
“I think we better take you out of that chair,” the Doctor said, as he began to unstrap me.
The cool air outside of the building bit into my sweat-sodden clothing as I was led out of the front door. The Doctor stood with a pained look, handing me back my ID and my documentation.
“Do come back if you wish to partake in another experiment,” he said, a coy look in his eye. “We’d be happy to see you again.” With that, he left me standing on the pavement. His body vanishing behind the fogged glass of the double doors, another soul erecting from the blue chairs in the waiting room, following him like a lost puppy at the sniff of complete reformation.