The obsidian holding cells seemed to shudder for a moment and then began to open. Light peered into the claustrophobic prisons as their heavy steel doors slowly slid upward and ascended out of view. The prisoners inside were soon faced with the connecting room the strange voice spoke of.
A large but mostly barren circular hub stretched out before them. The five holding rooms were positioned around the edges of the circle like ominous metal statues, each one equidistant from the rest. From the outside they looked no bigger than a hallway closet. A mighty wall encapsulated the room, its tar black hue threatening to engulf the cells propped against it. The wall seemed endlessly thick and imparted an odd feeling that one was standing inside of a large cylinder. It seamlessly blended into the ceiling, though its shadowy influence was staved off by several rectangular fixtures that bled incandescent light. The floor was segmented into squares like a checkerboard; the squares alternated color between the same dark tone of the cells and a creamy off-white. Whatever it was made of, it was incredibly sturdy and met each of the prisoners’ cautious footsteps with an audible tap.
Each prisoner slowly gravitated toward the center of the room, their night vision that the cells had fostered rapidly deteriorating. The sleeping agent that all of them had been injected with seemed to be quickly ebbing away, as they could walk with no problems. They soon met in the middle and turned their attention to one another. Before any of the strangers could speak the silence was broken for them.
“Subjects, we bid you welcome to The Tower.”
It was the same voice from before. It clearly belonged to a middle-aged man, though it wavered somewhere between a baritone and a tenor, not too deep and not too high-pitched. Every word the voice had spoken so far was pronounced perfectly, every syllable enunciated with no discernible accent or lingual impediment. Despite this the voice gave no air of overt properness; it lacked the sort of haughty cadence that one would associate with a prideful man. Its volume varied only slightly, as though it was making a concerted effort to weave words together with as little emphasis as possible. It didn’t sound especially invested in what it was saying, though it gave no impression of boredom or contempt either. There were only two things that convinced the prisoners they weren’t listening to a machine in the guise of a man: the voice’s mild tone that could almost be considered pleasant, and the faint sound of breath that occasionally rested between sentences. The voice was coming from some sort of intercom judging by the slight electronic filter that covered his words, but the prisoners couldn’t figure out where the source was.
“Subjects may refer to me as ‘Y’. I will be directing this experiment. Previous experiments have demonstrated the importance of establishing a set of rules upon subject integration. Therefore, we will now introduce you to the three cardinal rules.
“Rule number one: It bears repeating that it is expressly forbidden for subjects to kill one another. Should this rule be broken, all subjects involved will be immediately terminated and the experiment will cease. Be aware that all subjects were injected with a second solution while under the effects of the sleeping agent. This solution contained a host of microscopically small machines that now flow through each subject’s bloodstream. We trust that at least one of you has heard of nanomachines before, perhaps in some form of fiction. We assure you that they are quite real. At our behest these machines will congregate within the subject’s heart and combine with one another in a process not unlike blood coagulation. The affected subject will then suffer occlusion of the coronary arteries, followed by a massive myocardial infarction. In Layman’s terms, we can cause any you to suffer a massive heart attack with the push of a button. We sincerely hope that will not be necessary.”
Y paused for a few tense moments, perhaps to allow the prisoners to come to grips with what he just said.
“Rule number two: To be truthful, this rule is more of a warning. It is impossible to escape from The Tower. This compound was constructed with reinforced concrete and multiple composite steels. All doors within The Tower can only be opened at our command, and all elevators can be remotely disabled. Furthermore, we have stationed several of our agents at various posts throughout the compound. Each agent carries a Glock G27 subcompact pistol armed with 9 rounds of .40 caliber ammunition. Subjects will note that all personal belongings including potential weapons have been confiscated. Subjects will also be reminded that, even in the astronomically unlikely scenario that a security breach was realized, they have no idea exactly where they are. Some of you have been relocated over quite a distance to arrive here. We have already collected enough data regarding The Tower’s capabilities for containment, so we recommend that you spare us the tedium and conserve your energy.
“Rule number three: Subjects are to follow all other instructions given to them. We believe that this rule is self-explanatory.”
Y went silent again.