I stood irresolute for several minutes as the tide of tortured humanity washed past me. Finally, the last person passed, and the dust and ash began to settle.

Still, I didn’t move. I wasn’t quite sure what to do.

On the one hand, Williamson was my only lead. On the other, he’d already flatly refused to help. So did I wait and hope he’d prove more hospitable after his shift – despite the warning Sally had given me?

Did I follow him into that fungal nightmare, and try to find him?

Or did I give up altogether, and go find someone else, somewhere else? Someone, maybe, who knew about the map my objectives mentioned.

I was stuck in place weighing these alternatives when Kharon appeared again.

“Kharon?” I asked, confused. I hadn’t summoned the AI. “What are you doing here?”

“You seem to be stuck, Soul. I thought I would offer my guidance, should you be open to it.”

“Uh…sure. Why not.”

“If you still desire to speak to the soul called Williamson, you might apply to work alongside him. Then, you will earn time off your sentence, which will benefit you when the rest of your schemes go – as they say – belly up. And he cannot escape you. If you are persistent enough, you may compel him to tell you what you wish to hear.”

“Captive audience,” I mused.

“Exactly so.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. I figured I could be annoying enough to make anyone talk, if I really put my mind to it. The only downside was, applying to work here meant – working here.

“I don’t suppose there’s another way in? Without taking a job as a lab rat I mean.”

“Not to my knowledge. But you are welcome to try.” And with this, he disappeared.

“Huh.” I said, eyeing the fungal compound. It had windows, but as far as I could see, they were all barred on the outside.

I decided to take a stroll around the premises. Maybe there’d be a way in from another approach. Certainly, unlocked backdoors, ajar side windows, and the odd open hatch had got me into more than a few secure facilities back in the Realm.

The Alchemerium, however, proved to be another story. Black plumes barred the windows all the way around, from bottom to top. I eyed a few of the trailing purple tendrils growing off the face of the building but dismissed them. For the most part, they led nowhere useful. And the few that grew near windows, still could not solve the issue of bars.

I did try the back door, but the handle didn’t budge. It was locked.

These people had clearly never heard of OSHA.

So I trudged around to the front door and stood there for a few more minutes before making up my mind to go inside.

No, I didn’t want to work any of the insane jobs here. But there was no way of knowing I’d even have to apply without going inside. Maybe, if I got real lucky, no one would be watching the door, and I could rely on stealth to get me where I needed to be.

And if not? Well, I could dip out as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the overpowering stink. Fungal – that was the only word for the combination of moist decay and musty staleness. Then, my eyes started to adjust to the irregular lighting. Here too, they certainly didn’t operate by any kind of standards I’d ever encountered. The lights were so far apart, dark patches of shadow fell between them.

But in the pools of reddish orange light, I could see a lumpy, dark purple floor, and a nearly endless array of halls and doors diverging from the main thoroughfare.

“You!” a voice sounded so sharp and near at hand that I nearly jumped out of my skin.

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A skulking creature scuttled out of the shadow. Not a creature like anything I’d ever seen before, either.

I took an instinctive step backwards.

This thing looked like a spider crossed with an orc, with twelve long, thin legs connected to a green humanoid torso. From this torso hung a further two appendages –short, stubby arms. Above the T-Rex arms sat a face with green skin and tusks. Orc-like, but the ugliest orc I’d ever seen, with fire-red eyes, and needle-sharp teeth paired with the tusks.

“You’re late,” the monster snarled.

“What now?”

“Work started half an hour ago.”

“Oh. Well, actually, I’m not a worker.”

The monster twitched its front legs irritably. “I know that. Do you think I hatched yesterday? Do you think I don’t know my own workers?”

“Well, no, I just –”

“Don’t interrupt. The first rule of the job: don’t open your mouth unless it’s to answer a question or down a potion. Understood?”

I grimaced, but answered, “Yes.”

“Good,” the little beast hissed. “Next: be punctual. Don’t think you’ll get out of work by showing up late. That half an hour? I’m docking it from your shift.”

“Fine. But –”

“Ahh! Rule number one. Did I ask you a question?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well? Did I?”

“No.”

“Exactly. So why are you talking?”

“Am I supposed to answer that?”

It hissed again. “That was clearly rhetorical. Now, you’re here to work?”

“Can I answer that one?”

The monster bared a mouth full of razor sharp teeth at me.

Gulping, I said, “Uh, yeah. That’s right.”

“Good. We need more test subjects. Always need more test subjects. Archimedes isn’t in yet, but I’ll file the paperwork for you. In the meantime – follow me.” It turned, and started to waddle away as fast as its grotesque legs could take him.

“Hold on,” I said, ignoring the snarl it turned over its shoulder. “I know you don’t want me talking, but this is important. You want a test subject, fine. You’re going to listen. There’s an old man here, name of Williamson. He’s a friend of mine. I want to work alongside him.”

“Friend?” the beast hissed. “Friend?! Williamson doesn’t have any friends.”

“Of course he does. Just because you haven’t made the cut doesn’t mean he doesn’t have friends.” The spider monster looked dubious, so I added, “He’s a cheery chap, once you get to know him. In his own way.”

“Suit yourself. If you want to suffer on the job, far be it from me to dissuade you.” With that, it turned again, click-clacking its way down the hall.

I hustled to keep up. Despite a hard surface coating, the floor seemed spongy underneath my feet. It sagged as I stepped, and sprang back after I passed on. The spider must have been lighter, or maybe the dozen legs helped disperse its weight more evenly than my two. But whatever, the floor didn’t budge under it.

We passed open chambers full of steam and vapors, and others where fire raged in the center. Alchemists in dirty aprons hunched over mortars and pestles, while others slaved over cookstoves and open fires. Other figures huddled in corners and cowered on the floor. These, I assumed, must be the test subjects.

Along the way, I spotted more spider beasts, some patrolling the hall and others monitoring rooms. A few hung from the ceilings on silken ropes, overlooking their domains, while others clattered up walls or along the floors.

Now and then, screams echoed out. Some went on and on. Some ended as abruptly as they started.

Once, a man in flames burst out of the room, pursued by a pack of spiders.

“Don’t mind that,” my guide hissed.

I did mind, very much. I was starting to think I’d made a grave mistake in listening to Kharon. There had to be a better way to get what I needed.

There had to be.

But before I could attempt my own escape, we turned into a dark room. An elven mage, clad in stained and dusty robes glanced up as we entered. A long, dark scar crossed his forehead over his orbital bones and marred his cheek below. The eyeball remained functional, spared by the protruding bone and angle of his cheek. A lucky blow in that sense, if no other.

“I’ve got another subject for you, Pepin,” the spider monster hissed.

The elf glanced me over once, then nodded. “Put him with the other. I’ll be ready for them in a minute.”

My guide clicked and clattered his way toward the far end of the room, where Williamson stood scowling at nothing in particular. Although, at our arrival, he turned his well-practiced scowl on us.

It only deepened at the sight of me.

“You,” he demanded.

“Silence,” the spider beast hissed. “No talking on the job. No fraternizing with other prisoners.”

“Test subjects,” I reminded him.

“Silence. Or I’ll write you up.”

I waited until the many-legged bastard had moved on. While he headed for the door, I scoped out our room. It was a small chamber, with a shelf full of potions and herbs beside a worktable. A spider worked away weaving a web above us, though what it planned to capture, I couldn’t – and didn’t want to – guess.

When the coast finally cleared, I turned to Williamson. “Hey there.”

He had a few choice words, none of which bear repeating. Suffice it to say, the man seemed eloquent in the curses of every tongue known to man or beast.

“All I need is information, bud. Then I’ll be gone.”

He had a few recommendations for alternatives with which I could occupy myself, most of which were, anatomically and practically speaking, impossible.

I let him rant, and when he’d wrapped up, said, “That all you got? No wonder Sally was so bored with you.”

His eyes widened, and he sputtered for a few seconds, so loudly that the spider paused from its web building to hush us.

Once it had gone back to work, I whispered, “Careful now, old man. You were already late this morning. I don’t think it would look good for you to get written up twice in a day.”

His eyes flashed, and his fists clenched.

I grinned at him. “Come on, dude. All I need is a little information. Or I can stay here, for the rest of your shift. And tomorrow. And the next day, and as long as it takes.”

A malicious gleam lit his eyes, and he unclenched his hands. “Can you now? I’ve been at this a lot longer than you, son. We’ll see which one of us breaks first, why don’t we?”