The end of the meeting was punctuated by me attempting to thrash out of my bindings. I fully and completely planned on killing every single person that had spoken there. I was keenly interested and razor focused on that and that alone. Not only was I unmedicated and coming off a rather potent amphetamine high, but I genuinely disliked these people, everything they stood for, and anyone who associated with them. I would’ve murdered the entire dais, all their pets, their third grade teachers, their whole fucking families, anyone who ever gave them a single thing in their entire life, anyone who was nice to them, anyone who ever let them have anything ever, anyone who ever brought them even the briefest moment of joy, even a single instance of happiness for that matter, and I would’ve done it for free, and I would’ve done it with a smile on my face, and I would’ve started immediately with any implement known to man. I would’ve used a Big Boy hamburger. I would’ve used a live puppy. Hell, I would’ve happily used an actual Care Bear from the 1980s tv series brought to life by some sort of foul Necromancy. I would literally take a field full of Care Bears doing the Care Bear Stare and use their bodies and rainbow sunshine as a weapon for murder if it meant that I could accomplish my goal. In fact, I wanted to do it, and my preferred time was now.
Instead, after I spat and swore and called them cunts and shitbirds and every other curse I ever learned, I did exactly what they wanted me to do which was agree to work for them. It sounds a bit strange but their argument was pretty sound when it became more personal.
“Sir! If you are quite finished!” The head Suit whose name I never learned chided my antics. “Sir! Sir. We do not desire this arrangement any more than you. Although we probably bent our programs towards this outcome, having someone as low-class, foul-mouthed, and generally unrefined as you being one of my colleagues is untenable at best. I would as soon hire a baboon as I would allow you to serve under me in other circumstances. However, sometimes fate makes strange bedfellows. Please consider our offer. In the meantime, please consider the alternative.”
“Fuck you. Shoot me. Or the cops. I won’t do shit for you,” I said.
“Please consider the alternative Mr. Brunsen. We shan’t be turning you over to anyone. At worst, we can use you for spare parts. What will happen instead, is that your body will begin to shake, first mildly, then uncontrollably. Then your nerves will catch on fire, every neurochemical fiber in your body on overload. You will experience pain like you cannot imagine. And we will do everything we can to prolong this indefinitely Mr. Brunsen, believe you, me,” said the Suit.
“Fine. Where do I go to start the painful death?” I asked. Somewhat surprisingly, the meeting was adjourned and I was escorted there post-haste.
I was led to a small glass room. I could see out, people could see in. Sometimes people watched me, although I was never sure who they were. Certainly, I was on display though. The room had nothing in it. No bed. No toilet. There was a slot for food, but it never opened. I did get water. That’s it. Would they have fed me? I don’t know.
I made it 3 days.
The shit stink was awful, but it wasn’t the worst part. The dyskinesia was mild at first, just as the Suit said. Then it was like fire. Then it was like electric fire. Then it was 1000 times worse than both of those things. I had no control over my movements after a while. Men in white coats would enter my cell and inject me with what I have to assume what pure acid. At first they injected it in my arm, that hurt. Then they started doing it under my fingernails. Hurt couldn’t even begin to describe that pain. It kept me alive. Kept me in jarring pain. It was always bright. It always hurt. There was no pleasure. There was only pain.
I made it through the physical pain for a while. At one point they brought in a tv in plastic box and bolted it to the floor. It was a three-minute loop. Me hacking apart random people. Me killing Pearl. Me firing into a crowd and people dropping. Over and over again. When that didn’t work they turned on the audio. When that didn’t work, they turned it up. My brain was on overload. Everything was firing at once. Weird compulsions, unending pain, and most importantly, I think that security guard ruined my dick because the whole time I couldn’t mount an erection to save my life.
I didn’t know how long it could last, how long I could last, but at one point, I quit. It wasn’t worth finding out.
I looked at the orderly and just said “Yes. Tell him yes.” I said it through gritted teeth and convulsive movement. I screamed it over the thousandth loop of hearing Pearl scream “no.” A few minutes later they brought a tablet over that had a video call. The Suit’s face was prominent on the screen. All I could do was nod my head at him. He smiled. I writhed in my own piss and shit, unable to leave the infinite loop of fear, anger and pain.
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After my time in the torture tank, they marched me around whatever the complex I was in was called. No handcuffs, no leg restraints, no nothing. It was like living in a surgery suite. Metal walls, no windows, concrete floor. Everything sterile, hard, and bare. They said I was free to move around anywhere I had access to go, which was basically nowhere. The buildings weren’t really exciting though. High ceillings, no pictures, everything meticulously clean, lots of people in uniforms, badge access everywhere unless it was even more secure and then it was biometric scanners. I had no idea where I was, but it was clearly a highly functional and extremely well-armed laboratory/military complex. I was thrust into a communal shower cleaned up and some security types showed me to what they called Corporate Housing. Along the way, we stopped at some sort of internal pharmacy and I was handed a ration of pills and told to take one of them every 12 hours. I assumed it was similar to what Dr. Connors had given me, although with these pricks I really had no idea.
My room reminded me of my old apartment, but without any of the fun shit like internet access to pornography or drugs. I am guessing it was what going to some sort of white-collars prison in Monaco or New Zealand would be like. Sure, you obviously weren’t able to get out, but for a lot of folks, it was pretty nice in there. It was nicer than my old apartment, and hey, at least I wasn’t homeless. Part of the reason that I eventually agreed to work for the biggest bunch of criminal shitheads on the planet is that I was extremely tired of going to bed in foreign places, waking up tied to things, and generally not having much control over my life. I guess I still didn’t have much control, but at least this place afforded me enough continuity to replace constant dread with complacency.
The other reason was of course the constant unbridled agony derived from the poisonous mindfuck they injected me with.
After I got cleaned up some security types came and grabbed me and made grunting noises to get me started moving. I shuffled across the campus into a well-lit room with pastel walls. It was lined in file folders and giant grey cabinets. It was littered with multi-colored paper clips, stick it sheets, and label-makers. Corporate art hung from the walls next to vacation pictures and affirmational posters of animals overachieving and ocean waves in a magnificent crescendo. A short, portly man with a cherub-like face in a white button up shirt set behind his desk. He had on lime green suspenders and a matching bowtie. He had many pictures of small dogs. There were kitschy pictures of him in novelty sunglasses holding brightly colored beverages on beaches. He had a sign on his desk that said, “Ask me about my Bowties!” I didn’t know where I was, but I immediately understood what hell I had entered.
“Hi!!! Welcome to Human Resources!!! I am Jeffrey Pansak!!! I am just so excited to start you on your BIMPT journey today.”
Fuck. Put me back in the torture cage.
"Uhh yea, I’m John. I’m being neurochemically manipulated by some sort of ancient alien technology to violently react to any situation. Also I am being coerced to work for your fucking sadist bosses…”
Jeffrey interjected. “Bup bup bup…I know you haven’t had a chance to access your employee manual yet, but just so you know, we here at BIMPT frown on potty language.”
“What the fuck is potty language?” I said facetiously.
"Ooo, that’s another one. Let’s refrain from any of the no-no words. I know you haven’t had a chance to access your employee manual yet, but just so you know, we here at BIMPT frown on potty language.”
"I know, you just said that. Is this some sort of joke or something? Also did you just fucking say ‘no-no words’ to another adult?” I asked.
“At BIMPT, we focus on repetition for reinforcing our values with our more problematic employees as we think it provides them with the model for better behavior! I know you haven’t had a chance to access your employee manual yet, but just so you know, we here at BIMPT frown on potty language.” Jeffrey’s face was a mix of faux upsettedness and real arrogance.
"You already fucking said that dude.” I was just doing it for fun at this point.
“I know you haven’t had a chance to access your employee manual yet, but just so you know, we here at BIMPT frown on potty language.” Jeffrey said flatly.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“You do understand that I am a chemically imbalanced homicidal maniac, right? You’re really fucking testing me on this?”
“I know you haven’t had a chance to access your employee manual yet, but just so you know, we here at BIMPT frown on potty language.”
“Jeff I’ve been in this room for three minutes and I am nearing my breaking point already. We’re burning daylight here, and I can tell you I don’t have a lot of patience left before this gets violent.”
Jeffrey smiled. “Excellent! You completed that sentence without any unnecessary language. You can see why we focus on repetition as our strategies can be highly effective with behavior modification. And John, I do prefer Jeffrey over Jeff. Thanks!”
Fuck you Jeff. That was it. This was the moment. I waited for the feeling to hit. For that moment when the instincts took over and I just started mass murdering shit. I prepared myself for it. One last ride. No holds barred. Come on. Here we go. Any minute. Time to go. Let those hands fly. Stapler his mouth shut? Strangle him? What’s it gonna be? I’m ready for anything and the wilder the better.
Jeffrey looked at me sympathetically. “You seem uncomfortable. Just so you understand, we here at BIMPT have altered the work from Dr. Cooper. Your new drug cocktail should make those nasty impulses much harder to act on. This is good though as now we can focus on being more productive!”
Of course. That’s why they let me move around. They had neutered me. Not completely, I felt it deep down, a low boil that just needed a little more heat. But it was true, while I was ready to kill Jeffrey, I didn’t need to kill Jeffrey. It was a metaphorical urge and not an uncontrollable one. I was eminently disappointed.
“Let’s. Talk. Turkey.” Jeffrey spoke in staccato to emphasize his words. He brought out an extremely large file folder and opened it on his desk. “John, we’ve been following your actions for a while now, as I am sure you are aware, and you are of great interest to the company. We’re so excited to have you join the team, and hope that this relationship is fruitful for both sides. Today we’ll be signing your employment contract and sending you through our employee handbook. Then, we’ll talk details about the nature of your position here at BIMPT, our expectations of you as an employee, and your goals and tasks that you will accomplish to maintain that relationship!” Jeffrey ended almost every sentence on an uptick. “Now, what I am presenting you is a contract for employment. It states that you agree to stay here with us indefinitely in exchange for your salary and healthcare provided to you by BIMPT. I will give you as much time as you need to read the exact verbiage.”
Jeffrey lofted a large and verbose document onto the desk and set it in front of me. It had tabs to sign at different points.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
“Of course. Simply refuse to sign it and we will begin the next steps.” Jeffrey said.
“Which are?” I asked.
Jeffrey’s expression changed, his eyes coming alive. “Men will come and escort you back to your previous arrangement. I will personally see to it that you are made increasingly uncomfortable. My job is to make sure you sign that contract. I don’t fail at my job here John. No one does. I will make sure you sign. I will do whatever it takes. I will torture you if needed. I will do it daily if needed. I will even participate if necessary. That’s not true, I will participate whether it’s necessary or not. John, at BIMPT, we don’t allow employees to fail. I don’t allow employees to fail. We will spend as much time as needed to break you and you will do what is needed because it’s my job to make sure that happens. Human Resources is a serious Department at this corporation and we take our jobs seriously. I will put you through every layer of Hell on a daily basis before I let you damage this company or perform your job incorrectly. At this division of BIMPT, people understand that cooperation is not optional all the time. If you sign a contract, you hold your word. Let me just tell you that there are many, many more things we can add or subtract to make that experience worse for you. I don’t like you John. It won’t make me sad for even a minute to stick you back where you were and ratchet things up a notch. It will make me very sad if you don’t sign this, but only because I take my position seriously. You will sign, you will comply, and you will do so as best as you possibly can. It’s my job to make sure of that. I will.”
Oh, whoops. I apparently misread Jeffrey. Jeffrey is a brutal taskmaster, a merciless and heartless sadist.
“More torture then? Fine.” I signed the paper.
Jeffrey was unsettled in his chair, but soon relaxed back into the façade. “John, I am concerned you didn’t read the document and won’t be fully aware of the terms.”
“Don’t start with me Jeff, it hardly fucking matters…”
Jeffrey interjected “I know you haven’t had a chance to access…”
Stealing a move from the man himself, I interjected “Dude, I get it. No swearing. Let’s move on.”
“Would you like additional time to process the document?” Jeffrey asked.
“Your perception of choice and mine differ Jeff.” I signed the document.
Jeffrey shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It’s Jeffrey.”
After a few minutes of shoving papers about and typing away at his computer, Jeffrey reapproached me with the same zest as before. It was hard to keep a good HR Rep down I guess. “Now let’s discuss the details of our arrangement. Your primary job here at BIMPT will be sample accession, delivery, and testing. We have banked a great number of small vials of potentially biochemically different Samskara strains and you will primarily be responsible for finding and delivering them to the different labs on campus that have interest in this matter. The primary outcome for your position is the safe, accurate, and quick delivery of these products to requestors and your effectiveness in your role will be scored based on how these metrics. This position carries Level 4 risks, including death. Is this job description clear?”
I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. “Jeff, are you trying to tell me my job is to go find tiny jars of disgusting liquid and then bring it to someone else to do the actual work? I already fucking did this. God dammit, I can’t believe it but this is actually worse than the torture chamber. Gimme that piece of paper back Jeff, I am ripping it up. Call the guards, fuck this.”
“Oh no, John, we would never let you around other scientists for any sort of extended period. You are…a bit unstable for interpersonal work. No, you just load the samples directly into a machine and it will do the rest.” Jeffrey smiled as he said it.
“I go find bottles of liquid. I load it into a machine. And then I do that again? Over and over? Until the end of time?” I asked.
“Yes. Very good John. Do you feel comfortable with this task as I have described it to you today?”
I was acutely comfortable with this task unfortunately. “Are you fucking shitting me…don’t even fucking start Jeff, are you kidding me right now? I’m just doing my piss job again but with more hazardous material and now I’m trapped in some shithole dungeon with you assholes instead of smoking weed at my apartment after work? That’s what has come from the last year of my life? All of this and I end up in the exact same place but somehow worse?”
“We did see you had relevant experience. I am glad to hear you feel comfortable with the task.” Jeffrey began typing again. “And please John, don’t make me ask about the swearing again. Here at BIMPT, low level employees are still subjectable to corporal punishment should we deem it appropriate.”
“What is corporal punishment?”
Jeffrey smiled. “Dan comes in here and smashes you in the face until I ask him to stop.”
“Gotcha” I said. “No swearing, load the machines.”
This didn’t make any sense. They could’ve found someone to do this in the classifieds. They didn’t need me. I wasn’t even any good at it. “Jeff, I’m a bit confused. I am pretty sure you guys could’ve found someone else do this a lot cheaper than you got me. There is no way you went to all this to work so that I could be your Samskara delivery guy. What’s the real deal?”
“Oh, well, you will also be accompanying staff into excursions into the Greater Kansas City Metropolitan Area to retrieve novel Samskara samples and then transporting them back to the lab here. You see John, anyone could have done the accession samples here, we need you go to go accession samples out there. You were hired because of your uniqueness!” Jeffrey said.
“Whoa, mind explaining that one a little further bud? How are we going to get into Kansas City? The whole area is a black zone of Samskara mess or whatever and nuclear fallout and God knows what else. No one in or out,” I said.
“Indeed John. Sure, originally, we wanted you so we could mine your DNA for useful biological material, but honestly, we do that to about everyone nowadays. And sure, if you want to get right down to the nitty gritty, we needed your DNA to create a cure for this novel and hyperaggressive chemical entity of unknown origin that eats away the flesh of anyone it touches, but we already had that since you bled all over all the Atlanta facility. The problem is we don't have any way to test the Samskaras. We have all these stocks of different origins, but we just don't know what they do. On top of that, there are thousands more just laying around Kansas City. Now we know the outcome of the Samskara you were injected with, but who is to say the other Samskaras don't have more useful outcomes. And honestly John, the Samskara stuff is extremely hard to get people to work on. We’ve lost a lot of people trying to perfect Samskara technology. Biohazard suits can protect at first, but inevitably someone ends up touching some when they take their suit off and then they melt all over the decontamination room, and we have to file a lot of paperwork. We actually had a guy unwittingly carry some into the facility on the back of his pants and sit on the toilet where it was mistaken for feces. The janitors came by to clean it but ended up getting in on their cleaning solution where it eventually made its way into our incinerator. Long story short, when the incinerator mechanic comes by, he ends up touching it somehow and now we have a melted body in the incinerator. I mean, from an HR perspective it was great, we just fired up the incinerator again and I told his family he never arrived, problem solved. But this isn’t how we want to do business. I really shouldn't be saying anything here at all. This isn't my Department. And no worries about traveling to Kansas City. No sirree! You’re already there. Welcome to BIMPT’s Kansas City Division John Brunsen, Employee 22304.” Jeffrey stapled a few papers together and shoved them in my face.
I was a bit surprised. “We are in Kansas City? What the fuck are you saying to me right now?” I started feeling itchy. “Wait, don’t we need radiation stuff?”
“Not until you go outside. And honestly, a little bit of radiation poisoning, is that really what’s important here? I mean, yea, definitely, we could inject this Samskara into the world populace and scare everyone on the planet into taking our drug and then we could easily make trillions of dollars. That would be great for the company, so it's exciting for all of us. But what then? What if there is a better outcome somewhere out there in KC? This is where you come in. The machines run the test John; we just need you. Just trust the process." Jeffrey smiled again while he spoke.
I said what we were all thinking. "Yea, so I've got a few questions now. Starting with how are you going to keep me from dying from radiation poisoning?"
"Not my Department Mr. Brunsen, and honestly, I don’t really care." Jeff stapled some more papers together, placed them in a manilla file folder and then handed them to me. "Everything you need to know is in those packets. Please read them this time. And please pay attention to the parts about decorum!"
I hated this job even more than my last one.