The buzz of electricity could be heard from all around in the small, dimly lit room. A rough, disheveled looking man sat strapped into a large machine, with a glowing hole full of needles and blades positioned above his head. Despite his seemingly precarious situation, the man was calm and still. He sat there staring forward In deep thought. After a while, a tall man wearing thick rimmed glasses opened the door and walked inside. He was thin, almost emaciated looking.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. The last candidate was a bit of a hassle.” He chuckled, but it was obvious from his pained expression that the situation was dire.
The man in the chair did not respond.
“Actually, if you decide not to go through with this- which is totally fair, I won't blame you at all if you do- we'll probably have to go into hiding. The last guy was… very upset. He’ll probably tell the government about us.”
The man in the chair still did not respond.
The man with glasses walked forward and began fiddling with the machine. “So, what do you think? Do you still wanna go through with this even after seeing the machine?”
“Yes” the man in the chair responded quickly and quietly, continuing to stare forward.
Suddenly a pounding noise could be heard from somewhere outside of the room.
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“Shit, they got here faster than I thought they would. Looks it's do or die pal, though I guess technically you'll die either way.” he chuckled again, this time his face did not reflect the situation they were in at all, as though the inevitability of it had caused him to lose all worry.
“Do it.” The man in the chair commanded, finally breaking his gaze into nothing and staring at the man in glasses with eyes that looked as though they had been through many lifetimes worth of anguish.
“Got it.” The man in glasses pressed a button, and the room lit up with screens and lights. “You are our only hope now. Please, no matter how tough your job becomes, do not give up. If you do, you will damn every human who will ever live to a bleak future filled with nothing but sorrow and servitude.”
The machine above the man’s head whirred to life, beginning to descend slowly towards his head. The man in glasses walked over and injected the man in the chair with a needle full of a nearly translucent yellow liquid.
“I don't remember who said it, but I once heard a quote that went something like this: ‘excellence is not an art, it's pure habit. We are what we repeatedly do’. Please remember these words, I believe they describe your situation very well.”
The man in the chair’s conscience began to fade as the machine descended closer and closer to his head. Storming footsteps came from right outside the door, and the man in glasses tried his best to block their entrance, but he couldn't hold them with his emaciated body. The soldiers rushed into the room, but they were too late.
The machine had fully descended onto the man’s head, and had cut and prodded at his head, skull, and brain until it was nothing more than a mashed up pile of flesh and bone. The machinery around the room began to glow brighter and brighter, and then it suddenly shut off, leaving the room completely dark.