Lorian stood in the shadow of a passing cloud, his lean frame blending into the gloom. The air around him was heavy with the scent of rain and uncertainty. He rubbed his eyes, the dull ache behind them a constant reminder of his sleepless night. He shifted his weight, eyes narrowed at the crumbling building before him.
"Hey there! Looks like you saw the ad too, huh?"
Lorian turned, slightly startled. A burly man with a broad grin approached, his muscles straining against a tight navy-blue shirt. The sun illuminated his cheerful face, casting a sharp contrast between the two men.
“Yeah,” Lorian said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Quick bucks sounded good, even if it meant doing something strange,” he added, eyeing the building warily.
The man’s grin wavered as he looked at the building. “I don't know man... Last time I tried something like this, I nearly ended up selling vitamins to my grandma. They called it a Pond-geez scheme or somethin’. Rough times.” He shook his head, his tone light despite the memory.
Lorian chuckled briefly, his amusement dry. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be a sham too.”
The man took a step closer, his curiosity evident. “You seem like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders,” he observed, nodding toward Lorian’s tense posture. “Talking to someone can help, you know.”
Lorian managed a hollow laugh and shifted his feet. “Nah, just a bit tired. I’m fine, really.”
“You can tell me, ya know.” The man leaned in, his voice dropping. “I’ve been there, thinking I could solve everything. It’s clear you have a reason for being here. Maybe talking will lighten the load.”
Lorian hesitated, a shadow crossing his face. He looked down, scuffing the ground with his shoe. “Does anyone really need a specific reason for extra cash?” He tried to keep his tone light, though bitterness seeped through.
The man nodded, his expression softening. “I hear ya. Well, I wish you luck.” Noting Lorian’s reluctance to go deeper, he stepped back with a friendly nod before turning away.
“Thanks,” Lorian said, managing a small smile. As the man walked off, his smile faded. 'I hope I wasn't too rude.' Lorian thought as the conversation replayed within his mind.
A sense of loneliness washed over him. He watched the crowd, their laughter and chatter amplifying the silence in his own mind. A gust of wind rustled his hair, and he sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He scanned the sea of faces, his gaze lingering on groups of friends and acquaintances. 'Have I grown too aloof?' he wondered, feeling the weight of solitude pressing against the lively backdrop. He recalled his mother's cheerful voice and the times he could share his day with her. Glancing at the old family photo always felt like a mockery of his lost dreams. 'Every day, I feel like I’m failing us both...'
Lorian watched graduates pass by, their laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart. He remembered his own graduation day, the air electric with hope and possibility. "We’ll conquer the world, Lorian," his best friend had said, their eyes bright with youthful ambition. But now, that dream felt like a distant echo, drowned out by the harsh, unrelenting tide of reality. The weight of unmet expectations pressed heavily on his shoulders, each step forward a struggle against the invisible chains of regret and lost potential.
He slowly raised his head, looking towards the building that offered him hope. His reflection in the glass window looked back at him, a ghost of the man he once was, eyes hollow with unspoken pain. 'Once a dreamer of glory, now a wandering ghost, his ambitions turned to dust. The seeker of fame now bares the sting of solitude, struggling to find words.' He giggled softly, the sound tinged with bitterness.
Lorian glanced at the burly man ahead, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 'You’d tell me to get out there and talk to people, wouldn’t you, Julius?' he looked up towards the sky. Despite the crowd's chatter, Lorian felt the weight of his isolation. 'Besides,' he thought with a faint smile, 'that guy reminds me of you...'
Breaking the silence, Lorian’s voice wavered as he muttered, "It’s for my mother. She’s ill." The admission felt like a crack in his carefully constructed armor. His shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Huh?" The man turned back, surprised. "Come again?"
"My mother is sick, and I need the money for her bills," Lorian repeated, a sigh escaping his lips. A knot in his chest had loosened as he said it again.
The burly man's broad smile faltered, his eyes softening. He stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Lorian’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re not alone in this, brother," he said, his voice a low, comforting rumble.
Lorian looked down, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. He looked downwards, towards the lush green grass and pebbles crushed beneath his soles, "She’s been my rock. Now it’s my turn to support her..." He slowly raised his head, a small smile tugging his lips, he asked "What about you?”
Looking at Lorian’s face in front of him, the burly man smiled in response, "Just trying to get back on my feet. Family's been through a lot. You never know, a little extra might change everything.” As the words of consolation left his mouth, an image of a smiling police officer flashed through the burly man's mind. "You know" He continued, "A wise man once told me, every era has its own mistakes and hardships, but it's learning from those mistakes and those hardships that shapes us," the words resonated within his head as he spoke them aloud, a voice filled with deep emotion, as if wandering through memories of past mistakes. His eyes shifted to his forearm, focusing on a cluster of needle marks.
"If it doesn't kill you, it'll only make you stronger right?" Lorian said while drawing a sharp breath in. As though tired of the gloomy mood, Lorian asked, "Any idea what this ‘test’ might be?" hoping to stir the conversation towards a brighter future.
The man shrugged. "Something about willpower, I think. Let’s hope for the best haha..."
"Hope..." Lorian muttered, the word lingering on his lips as he scanned the growing crowd behind him, a diverse group of individuals with their own unique narratives, aspirations, and desires. He was taken aback to observe that an additional forty to fifty people had joined the queue behind him, extending the line all the way back to the entrance gates.
The burly man beside him did not speak any further as he followed Lorian’s gaze with interest. The pair of men remained quiet for a minute, surrounded by the hum of voices from the surrounding crowd.
Creak~~
The ambient hum of murmurs dissipated as the heavy laboratory doors groaned open, revealing a dimly lit room. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by flickering fluorescent lights overhead, giving the space an eerie, abandoned feel. A long table ran along the right wall, cluttered with scientific equipment and half-empty coffee cups. At the far end, a large glass window allowed a view into another room, equally dim and foreboding.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Relax... this isn’t your first time,” mumbled the elderly man in the lab coat, his voice a faint rasp as he drifted out of the room. His silver hair glistened under the harsh lights, and the pristine white of his lab coat seemed to fold in on itself with each heavy breath he took. His name, 'Dr. Gustavo Young,' was neatly pinned to his chest, though his eyes seemed to carry more weight than the label.
Trailing behind him, a striking woman with jet-black hair moved with a deliberate grace, her heels clicking sharply against the sterile tiled floor. The sharp contrast between their movements spoke volumes—the woman’s footsteps, measured and controlled, clashed with the doctor’s more disheveled presence.
“I am relaxed, Dr. Young,” she said, her voice like frost on a winter morning.
"Hehe... I study people for a living, dear. " Dr. Young's lips curled into a disarming smile, though his eyes remained as calculating as ever. “When in doubt, I like to think this trial makes a difference...” He said as he looked back at the woman.
For a fleeting moment, warmth flickered in the woman's eyes as she regarded him, though it quickly extinguished under her cold exterior.
“Experiences in a sensory deprivation setting are sure to help them in the Wastelands,” Dr. Young continued, his tone more hopeful than convincing, as though trying to soothe his own doubts rather than hers.
His gaze wandered over the gathered crowd, eventually settling on a young man at the front of the line. His suit, oversized and ill-fitting, made him look more like a child playing dress-up. Dr. Young’s voice, warm and resonant, cut through the murmur of anticipation. “Welcome to Samaritan Solutions. Today’s trial is designed to test your mental endurance and willpower.”
The woman stepped into view, her white coat billowing slightly, highlighting the precision of its tailoring against the backdrop of her perfectly cut black skirt and blouse. Her necklace, a cascade of brilliant stones, sparkled with the kind of light that seemed too grand for the ordinary world. Her expression was a mask of icy indifference, her gaze as cold and unyielding as a winter’s night. She carried a tray laden with metallic tokens, each one glinting ominously in the dim light.
“My assistant, Miss Sharon, will distribute a token to each of you,” Dr. Young continued, his tone unwavering and reassuring. “These tokens represent your position in the queue and will play a crucial role in today’s trial.”
The burly man standing next to Lorian nudged him, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Man, she’s got that ice queen vibe! Bet she’s tough as nails,” he murmured, his eyes glued to her every movement.
Lorian cringed a little hearing the burly man's comment, “Yeah, she’s definitely got a no-nonsense feel. But you never know, maybe she’s a softie underneath all that.”
"Hoho, you never know! Maybe she’s got a secret stash of cat videos she watches to unwind!" The burly man added with a blush.
'So he's the type of guy that'll fall in love with every girl he sees huh?' Lorian mused within as he observed the woman as she methodically handed out the tokens. Her precision was almost mechanical, each motion calculated and devoid of warmth. ‘With a demeanor that frosty, she’d probably pour a beer as cold as her stare,’ he thought, a wry smile playing on his lips.
As she reached Lorian, she handed him a token, the metallic disk cold and solid in his palm. He glanced down to see the number “21” etched in the center, its sleek surface gleaming under the dim lights.
He looked up to find the burly man beside him attempting to bend his token, his face a canvas of strained concentration. The pride he had in his strength was evident. Lorian stifled a chuckle, thinking, ‘Well, isn’t this a circus?’
As Lorian turned the token over in his hand, he marveled at its surprising malleability. Despite its metallic appearance, it felt smooth and flexible, a curious blend of clay and rubber, yielding easily to his touch.
The crowd hushed, anticipation hanging in the air. Lorian scanned the faces, each person reflecting unspoken dreams and hidden burdens. Tokens glinted under the harsh lights, numbers boldly etched into their centers.
“I urge everyone to remember their token numbers. These coins are composed of a gallium-like metal, easily bendable even for a child. It's ok to deform them, just be sure to remember your token number.” Dr. Young announced.
"Even a child?..." Lorian could hear the burly man's dejected voice from ahead. Paying no heed he looked behind and noticed the beautiful woman from earlier scrutinizing each participant, diligently noting their numbers in a small ledger. It was clear she was meticulously documenting who had already manipulated their coin.
‘The trial must have already started,’ Lorian mused. ‘Perhaps by tempting us to deform the coin, they’re testing our resolve. It’s likely a measure of willpower.’
His thoughts were interrupted when he locked eyes with the woman, her cold gaze piercing through him. He quickly looked away, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. ‘Is she onto me, or is she into me?’ he mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“The first 20 participants, please step forward and enter the hall,” Dr. Young announced, his voice calm yet commanding.
“Number 20, here I come! Hope it’s not some weird test like in the movies! Haha!” the burly man declared, his excitement barely contained.
Lorian simply nodded, watching the others being guided to a waiting area behind the building. Dr. Young added, “We have tea and breakfast prepared for you all to enjoy while you wait for the first group to complete the trial.”
Upon hearing this, the burly man grumbled, “Bet the tea tastes like garbage anyways,…” as he made his way towards the hall.
Shortly after the burly man entered the hall, Lorian found himself with the rest of the participants in the waiting area. 'At least mooching off of this place will save me money on breakfast,' he thought, stirring the cheap instant coffee provided. He stretched his body a little as he yawned.
Barely minutes passed when the frosty woman’s voice cut through the waiting area. “The next seventeen participants may enter through the front door.”
A few from the first group re-emerged, looking slightly dazed.
“What? Already done?”
“Where are the other three?”
The crowd buzzed with murmurs. “Easy money after all,” someone quipped.
Another retorted, “Seems too quick. Are they laundering money?”
“Who cares, money is money!” another laughed.
Laughter and chatter filled the waiting area, but Lorian couldn't shake the creeping unease as he followed the assistant. Her eyes, cold and distant, sent a shiver down his spine. She moved with an almost mechanical precision, her expression as unyielding as stone. Lorian rubbed his arms, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. ‘She’d fit right into the cast of Twilight,’ he thought, amused.
Amid the commotion, Lorian noticed that the burly man, his previous companion, was missing. He had grown fond of the man’s boisterous antics and wondered where he could be.
Approaching the door, Lorian spotted the burly man standing to the side, fear etched on his face. Lorian waved, but the man didn't seem to notice. The sight deepened Lorian’s unease as he continued following the woman. What kind of test could unsettle someone so quickly?
“Present your token number before proceeding,” the young woman instructed, her tone devoid of warmth. Lorian, careful not to damage his token, showed it to her. She nodded and gestured for him to enter the softly illuminated room.
Inside, the compact space branched into three narrow passages, each lined with doors labeled ‘Sensory Deprivation Chambers.’ The dim overhead lights flickered sporadically, casting long shadows. ‘Twenty doors in total, with only three closed,’ Lorian noted.
“Participant 21, sign here. This waiver acknowledges the risks—you’re responsible for your own sanity now,” Dr. Young’s voice echoed. “Once done, find an open door, enter your number, and prepare yourself. Your mind is about to be tested like never before!”
Lorian glanced quickly at the form, then signed with a flourish that belied his uncertainty. He placed his phone on the tray and strode toward the trial room, squaring his shoulders. The door shut with a heavy thud as soon as he pressed 'Enter.'
“Welcome to the White Room Sensory Deprivation Chamber,” the robotic voice droned. “There is an exit, hidden and revealed only by pressing the red button. Resist the urge. Your endurance begins now,” it continued as blinding white light consumed the room, leaving only the red button visible.
Thump Thump
A deathly silence enveloped the room, amplifying Lorian’s heartbeat in the oppressive quiet. Lorian’s thoughts churned. 'What if I can't handle this? What if I press the button too soon?' The pressure to perform perfectly gnawed at him, each second feeling like an eternity. Even his fatigue had drowned in the sea of panic. Doubts clawed at his mind, a relentless assault on his fragile confidence. ‘You’ve faced worse, Lorian,’ he tried to reassure himself, but the words felt hollow. The fear of failure loomed large, a shadow threatening to engulf his resolve.