Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Secret Government Project - Montauk | Part 1

Episode Date: August 25, 2025

Get 20% off your first order at NoSleepCoffee.com using promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout! When Senator Oscar Ruiz tours Project Montauk, a clandestine government facility hidden deep underground, he expects to oversee research his funding has enabled — but instead finds himself trapped in a maze of psychological manipulation, military discipline, and the eerie presence of gifted children whose powers blur the line between science and nightmare. As the senator is pushed deeper into the project’s secrets, he begins to question not only Montauk’s methods, but his own motives, his family’s safety, and whether he is the one truly in control. Author: Jake Bible Check out the author's latest release: Blood Cruise! https://jakebible.com/novels/blood-cruise/ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey guys, I'm excited to finally share my brand new horror-themed coffee with all of you. No Sleep Coffee is here. If you need that first morning cup to get moving, or a late-night brew to make it through my darkest tails, this is for you. Every bag is roasted the same day at ships, so it arrives fresh and flavorful every time. Go to No Sleep Coffee.com and use promo code No Sleep 20 at checkout for 20% off your first order. Premium roasted coffee, straight from the roaster to your door. That's no sleep coffee.com promo code No Sleep 20 for 20% off your first order. The elevator ride down to the lower level is interminable.

A slow slog, punctuated by the occasional ding or beep, telling us we've passed yet another secure section of the facility. As if that knowledge helps in the slightest. Why even bother to tell me that I am passing something? All I care about is my destination. The last section, the lowest floor. Project Montauk. My project. The one I have taken over now that I have the proper clearance. Well, not so much as taken over as I have almost total control of the budget, which in this world equals the same thing.

This place had better be the real deal, or I will wipe it off the map. I have my reasons. The mousy scientist riding with me clears his throat, and I have to struggle not to roll my eyes and growl at his weakness. Are you sure you don't want your wife to join you for the tour, Senator? He asks, his face stretched to breaking by the helpful smile he's trying to maintain. Her clearance has been upgraded for today so she can see. His words die in his throat as I turn and look down, giving him my own smile, one that is far from helpful. It's a smile that has stopped debates,

a smile that has forced interns to quit on the spot. A smile I have worn since just after my son's. was born. I have my reasons. His mousy smile falls and he looks away, clearing his throat yet again. He doesn't finish his sentence. My wife and son will be fine in the holding area. I respond. My words sharp and cutting. Oh, of course. He says, throat clear, throat clear, throat clear. And we prefer to call it the reception area. While most government facilities can be cold and sterile. I like my facility to have some semblance of warmth. This is not an easy place to work in, so I try to ease the burden where I can. Oh, Dr. Klondike, are you saying that your management

style is based on the proper placement of throw pillows and motivational posters? Is that what the United States government's money is going toward? Homey Kitch and sentimental schlock? The man is a fraud. I can smell it on him. He's hiding a truth that is important. And And that truth makes him uncomfortable. I make him uncomfortable. Good. He's about to clear his throat again, but my firm and possibly painful grip on his shoulder stops the tick,

and he sort of croaks instead. The smile I give him is now genuine, if simply because I enjoy his discomfort. Don't worry, doctor. I'm not here to audit your discretionary budget, even if I can. No, no, of course not, Senator Ruiz. He swallows hard. but doesn't try to clear his throat this time.

Progress. And we here at the facility, appreciate the close attention you have paid to us and the amount of support you have funneled our way. Funneled? You make it sound tawdry, criminal even. I have funneled nothing. All I did was ensure that the votes were cast properly,

allowing you and your team to continue the fine, important work you do here. It is appreciated, sir. I am sure everything will live up to you and your wife's standards. So that... You may stop talking about my wife now. Yes, of course.

My apologies. He pauses, but can't help himself. It's just that I... We... Thank you for everything you have done. Yes, I am aware. So this place better live up to my expectations. Oh, Montauk shall exceed those expectations, Senator.

In fact, if my research proves true, our entire definition of humanity could change. I chuckle. He twitches and manages not to cringe and draw away from me, even though I can tell that's his first instinct. His body language, and even his smell, show the whole world his fear. Even if at this moment the whole world is confined to a 16 by 16 box made of the strongest titanium alloy, a box that is still descending toward the bottom of the facility. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Dr. Klondike. The definition of humanity as it stands is sufficient.

for the general population. And while what you are doing is very important, I hope I don't need to remind you that it is also deeply classified. Montauk is not for the public. Montauk will never be for the public. Secrecy must be maintained. I wait a moment to let my words sink in. You do understand this, do you not, Dr. Klondike?

Of course, Senator Ruiz. I understand completely. Good. No. Now, I have a very important question for you, Doctor. Yes? Will this elevator ever reach its destination? The doctor laughs a week, semi-relieved laugh.

We are arriving now, Senator. For the first time since my helicopter touched down hundreds and hundreds of feet above, I get a useful answer. I need useful answers. Excellent. I am looking forward to the tour. Dr. Klondike doesn't attempt a response, and only nods.

Project Monta. A woman's voice announces. Please prepare for security check. The elevator stops with only the slightest of jolts, which annoys me further. Considering the billions that have been appropriated for this facility, there should be no jolts. There is no reason for shoddy workmanship.

For the billions spent, everything should be nothing but smooth rides and polished corners. You will have this elevator service. I say as the door's slothed, light open, and the doctor and I step off into a small, sterile lobby space. The doors immediately slide closed behind us. Before the doctor can respond to my order, Project Montauk's security detail, or part of it, moves into place before us.

Doctor, Senator, a tall woman says, as she stands in front of a squad of security personnel, all with their M4 carbines aimed directly at our chests. If you will step to the side here, we can begin the clearance process. You are Master Chief Lindstrom, correct? I asked the woman. I am, Senator. Most decorated woman in U.S. naval history. You could have been the first female Navy seal. All true, Senator.

And you know who I am. I most certainly do, Senator. And you know how important I am to Mom Talk. I most certainly do, Senator. Yet you still insist on me leaving my personal security detail above while you put me through a security protocol that I helped fund and develop. I most certainly do, Senator. I smile. She doesn't flinch and smiles back. Then she gestures to her left. If you will step this way, please. Are you sure you want to proceed with this,

master chief? I most certainly do, Senator. Over here, if you will, stand on the metal plate, Keep your hands at your sides at all times, and wait for further instructions. If I may, Dr. Klondike begins, but I cut them off with a wave of my hand. You may not, doctor, I am handling this. I look the woman up and down. Her smile doesn't falter, and her arm is still outstretched, showing me toward a row of a dozen large circular metal plates set into the floor against the far wall. With one phone call, I can have you removed from this position. I say to Lindstrom, is that how you would like this situation to proceed?

No, Senator, it is not, she replies. But there are no phones in Mom Talk. There is one way to communicate with the surface and one way only. So, while you may feel like you have leverage over me, until you board that elevator again and arrive safely at the surface, you are under my jurisdiction and command. My eyebrows shoot up, and my smile widens. Is that so?

That is so, Senator. Each person behind me is almost as decorated as I am. They are handpicked by me from elite Marine Corps and Navy SEAL units, and every one of them, to a man, will die to protect Montauk's mission. They will not die for you, or the doctor, or even me. Montauk is all there is down here. Isn't that right team? Yes, Master Chief!

Even with their forceful response, their weapons do not deviate a fraction from their targets. which are still me and the doctor. Good, I say, and move to the first metal plate. I just wanted to be sure. Don't we all, Senator? Lindstrom says. Doctor?

Oh, yes, my apologies. Dr. Klondike responds and scurries to the plate next to me like a startled rodent. I glared down at him, and he moves one plate over. If he weren't such a brilliant scientist, I'd have him removed from the project altogether. The man makes it impossible not to question his fortitude. Lindstrom and her team track our movements so that eyes and M4s are on us at all times.

It is good to see dedication such as Lindstrom's. We could use more of her metal above in the real world. Stay perfectly still during the process, if you please, Lindstrom says, and then gives an almost imperceptible nod. The plate is suddenly surrounded by a blue wavering light. light. My skin tingles, and my hair stands on end. I start to reach up to pat it back in place, and a dozen M-4s move half a centimeter in my direction. I freeze. Perfectly still, please, Senator, Lindstrom says. She grins. You may lower your arm. I nod and lower my arm. Then maintain my

position for what feels like an eternity, although not as long as that elevator ride. The blue light disappears, and that same woman's voice announces. Identities confirmed. No weapons detected. Welcome to Project Montauk, Senator Ruiz. Welcome back, Dr. Klondike. You may step off the plates, Lindstrom says. I look up at the ceiling. That voice, human or AI. Lindstrom gives me a blank stare. I am asking because, if you will proceed this way, Senator, we can get to your questions as soon as we are inside. The back wall splits open to reveal a long, dark corridor. After you.

I hesitate and then move into the corridor, where Lindstrom takes her place at my left side, while Dr. Klondike moves to my right. The security team follows closely behind. Not one lowers their weapon in the slightest. Surely there is no need for all this firepower, is there, Master Chief? We have been scanned and confirmed. And now that we are inside Montauk,

I believe we are not inside Montauk, Senator. Lindstrom interrupts. Not yet. So the firepower will remain exactly as it is. It's best for all of our protection. Oh? Hmm. Interesting.

She laughs heartily, surprising me. Oh, you don't know the half of interesting, Senator. She side-eyes me, and I swear she winks. But you will. As we proceed down the corridor, banks of lights above click on, off, illuminating our way, then darkening once we have passed. Linstrom notices my observation. Keeps escape attempts in the spotlight. The light is only on where they are, making them easy targets. That and so many of them are still afraid of the dark, she points up at the ceiling.

And you haven't experienced dark like he can get down here. Do you have many escape attempts? I ask, adding a little venom to the question, since the entire point of of Montauk is to keep the subjects secure, always. That, and I am not amused at her attempts to unsettle me. We study and train human being, Senator, Lindstrom replies with a smirk that only adds to my lack of amusement. We are not a species that enjoys or tolerates incarceration. Eventually, all of us yearn for freedom.

I suppose we do. However, to put your mind at ease, Dr. Klondike says quickly, shooting a worried, glance at Lindstrom. Our studies have shown that with the proper amount of stimulation, combined with the appropriate pharmaceuticals as needed, in conjunction with positive psychological conditioning, the subjects can adapt to almost any situation or environment thrown at them, even captivity. So, you were doing your jobs, is what you're saying? I respond. That flusters the doctor, and for half a second I feel bad for the diminutive man. He doesn't have close to the power that I or even Master Chief Lindstrom commands.

The eggheads rarely do. The half a second passes, and any empathy I may have had for Dr. Klondike is gone. All that has left is scorn. When we reach the end of this corridor, you will be subjected to another full scan, Senator, Lindstrom says offhandedly. Just wanted to warn you.

Another scan? That'd be two before we even enter the main section. Excellent math, Senator. Oh, she's good. I could bristle at the impertinence of her comment, but I don't. We alphas have to piss a little now and then. Some of us just piss a little more than others, while a select few, and I include myself in this, do very little pissing.

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slash dns. That's shopify.com slash dns. And inside, I ask. Senator, how many scans are conducted inside the main section? Not scan, Senator. Scan. One. And it is continuous. 24-7.

Everything inside Project Montau is monitored for possible security threats, possible anomalies, and for deviant behavior that may pose a problem now, or down the line. Down the line? Are you saying you can see the future, Master Chief? We have predictive methods and algorithms that help us head off trouble before it starts. Considering the nature of the subjects,

staying ahead of things is of the utmost importance. I am sure you read the report on the blazer incident, yes? Of course, it hid my dusk the moment it was written. The way I see it, that was 100% avoidable. It was, yes, Senator. which is why my predecessor was removed. In the three years since, we have had zero incidents of that nature. A terrible loss, Dr. Klondike adds and shakes his head.

Yes, that specific subject could have been of extreme strategic value to the government, I respond. Uh, no, I meant the six researchers who lost their lives defending our colleagues and fighting the subject off until help could arrive. Lindstrom and I share a look. Yes, that too. Lindstrom says as she stops next to another row of a dozen metal plates. Senator, if you will, please. I step onto a plate, as does Dr. Klondike.

It is the exact same process as before, except the light is red. Senator Ruiz and Dr. Klondike have been cleared to enter the main section. Have a pleasant day. That voice, I say. Why does it sound familiar? Questions inside, Senator. Now, if you will follow me, Lindstrom says, as the entire wall slides away. She steps through the opening and I follow her, only to be confronted by yet another wall.

Klondike is right behind me with the security team taking up the rear. The space barely accommodates us all. When the wall behind us closes, we are plunged into absolute darkness. Lindstrom's words from earlier ring in my head. Yes, I can see how this could. be paralyzing. Then the next wall slides away, and all I see is another small space. Where is Mom Talk? I ask. I thought you knew everything about this facility? Linstrom replies. Her smugness is beginning to grate on me. It'll be interesting to see if her survival instincts

pick up on that. A light comes on in the new space. After you, Senator, she says, and makes room for me to enter the new space. Once we are all inside, the same as before happens, and the wall slides closed behind us. But the light above stays on, which I find is a relief. I make sure not to show any of that relief on my face, however. Lindstrom is a professional killer. She can smell weakness almost as well as I can. The difference being that she can kill me, or have me killed, in the blink of an eye. My power takes a little more time than that, and involves signatures and pens, not guns and bullets. The imbalance in our situations does trouble me, but Lindstrom is military, and in the end,

she will follow orders. Also, I refuse to let her rattle me. This tour must be successful. I have my reasons. The third wall slides open, and I finally catch my first glimpse of Project Montauk. What is this happy or shit? I ask as I stare at the scene before me. It looks like the entrance to a pediatric dentist's office, complete with a smiling receptionist. Hello there, the woman behind the reception desk, says. What a pleasure it is to have you visit us, Senator Ruiz. She stands and offers me a lanyard and badge. If you would be so kind as to wear this at all times, while within Project Montauk, that would be wonderful.

The woman has to be in her late 60s or early 70s. She looks like a typical American grandmother. If you put her in a lineup with a dozen other grannies from all those flyover states, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. I am slightly disappointed she's wearing slacks and a blouse instead of a house dress and an apron. The badge will identify you as an authorized guest, Lindstrom says. Do not remove it from your person unless you want to see what all that appropriated money bought.

Are you telling me that all that stands between me and an unfortunate security incident, is this thin piece of plastic? No, of course not, Senator, Lindstrom says with her smugness, turned up to full wattage. The badge is made of a thin metal alloy, not plastic. As for the other part, yes. If you remove it from your person at any time, you will have five seconds to place the badge back on your person before you are deemed a security threat and dealt with appropriately. I assume appropriately means a bullet to the back of the head.

In a matter of speaking, yes. Although a knife to the base of the skull is just as effective. Senator? The receptionist says, jangling the badge at me. We have our protocols, you know. Could you please put this on? She waits a beat, and some of her warmth dissipates. Now, Senator.

Well, I need for my milk and cookies to be taken away. I say and grab the badge, slipping the lanyard over my head. Now, may we finally get this tour somewhere? started? Yes, yes, my pleasure. Dr. Klondike says, and nods at the receptionist as he moves to a set of double doors, each with a porthole-style window set in them. I want to thank you again for coming, Senator, and well, welcome to Montauk.

He holds open one door, and I step past Lindstrom, the reception desk, and finally into what I have come here to see, Project Montauk. Is that a ping pong table? I asked, staring at what looks like a lounge space that would make any Silicon Valley tech startup jealous. And fending machines? I gape at a setup in the corner. Please tell me those aren't beanbags in front of a PlayStation.

It's an Xbox, I believe, Dr. Klondike says. But yes, to all of your questions, we have several subjects who are completely docile and are allowed to enjoy this part of the facility when they earn the right to. Ah, yes, your point system. I remember that coming across my desk. Gentlemen, thank you for your time. I will see you both when you leave, Lindstrom says, still standing out in the reception area.

Thank you, Master Chief, Dr. Klondike says, and lets the door swing shut behind him. I lock eyes with Lindstrom through one of the windows, and she gives me a wink, then turns and walks out of sight. What does she know that I don't? alarm bells ring in the back of my mind. Where are the subjects? I ask, gesturing at the empty room. Did none of them are in the proper amount of points today?

Oh, no, several did. But with you coming for a tour, we decided it would be best and safest if all subjects were confined to their rooms. Rooms? Not cells? Oh, no. Cells are for prisoners. Our subjects are not prisoners. despite several of them being extremely dangerous. They are subjects and guests. He clears his throat and then tries to cover it with a cough.

Not as esteemed a guest as you, of course, Senator. I ignore his attempt to suck up. Okay, I've seen the rec room slash lounge slash whatever this is. Now, take me to the subjects. I want to see how they are housed. I want to see how they are treated. I want to see how you conduct your research. I want a demonstration of some of the subject's abilities.

I want to see it all, Doctor. I am aware of your request, Senator, and we will do our best to accommodate you. You'll do more than your best. You will accommodate me, doctor. He starts to clear his throat, but catches it in time. As a parent yourself, you know how children can be, Senator. We will do our best, but sometimes our subjects have minds of their own. I don't say anything. Only stand and stared down at him.

But since you gave us plenty of notice, as I said, I am sure we will live up to and exceed your expectations. Good. Dr. Klondike crosses the lounge to another set of double doors and types on a keypad. As I go to follow him, I hear a small giggle. I see Dr. Klondyke's entire body go rigid. What was that? I asked. Is everything all right, Doctor? Fine, fine, he says hurriedly. Everything is just through here.

There's another giggle. Much louder, much closer. I turn in a circle, looking for the source. Senator, follow me, please. Dr. Klondike says, sounding slightly frantic. Now, sir. Hold on. I say in focus on the beanbags.

Doctor? Is that a subject over there? No, Senator. There are no subjects in this room. A third giggle, and I swear I see a shape seated in a beanbag chair. And what is that? I ask and point. Dr. Klondike sighs as he turns around. He keeps his eyes on me and doesn't look toward the spot I am pointing at.

That senator is a remnant, he says with a flat tone he hasn't used before. Some staff members and some subjects call it a ghost. It is not a ghost. It is an astral projection that it is. has taken up permanent residence in this room after the subject it belonged to was unfortunately terminated with extreme prejudice. One of our stronger telepaths left that behind when she was stopped from escaping. Why am I just hearing about this now?

None of this was in the files. No, it is not. Oh? And why is that? I have my reasons. His words, which echo my own thoughts, trouble me. A little too close to home. I shake off the unease and focus on what I am witnessing.

So, it is not real? Oh, it is very real. And I advise you to not give it too much attention. It feeds off of interaction. We do not want it to grow any stronger than it already is. The shape pushes up out of the beanbag chair, and I gasp. Rarely am I not in control of my reactions. But this thing...

What's wrong with its face? The doctor sighs again. It is not a ghost. It is not a child. It is a psychic manifestation that was left behind when its creator died. Its features are grotesque, because we believe it felt the pain of its creator, and that pain warped its appearance into that. It is like staring at putty or clay.

The face is drooping and loose. The eyes are in the wrong spots. One is down on the left cheek, and the other is high up on the forehead. I can't see a nose, but I can see a mouth and all the teeth within. Senator, please, Dr. Klondike says and re-enters the code on the keypad. We should leave it alone. I asked for a tour of the facility, and this is part of the facility, I say and stand firm. I would like to know more about how this happened, and if there is a chance it will happen again,

because I cannot have that, doctor. I know, sir. Dr. Klondike abandons his code entering and looks up at the room's high ceiling. Containment Team Theta, please join us in the subject lounge. On our way! A voice replies from unseen speakers. Wouldn't a secure comm system be more appropriate? I ask.

It was in the budget. Since many of our subjects have abilities that allow them to hear what others are thinking, while some have abilities that allow them to physically hear well enough that they can pick out communications even from an embedding. headed earpiece, I decided to be egalitarian and embrace an open communications policy. Not exactly the choice I'd make. When a subject can hear what is happening or what is going to happen to the subject in the room neighboring theirs, it has a pacifying effect.

When we make our methods plain, the subjects know their limits explicitly. They understand that even with their abilities, we are the ones in control, not them. Is that so? Yet you haven't captured this, this, psychic ghost or whatever it is. A remnant, not a ghost. You may call it what you want to call it, but if I see that in my house, I'm calling an exorcist. Do you want to play a game? The thing asks me, I suppress a shiver and scowl at the abomination.

No, I do not want to play a game. You are not authorized to be here. You should leave. Senator, please stop interacting with it, Dr. Klondike warns. Leave? The thing asks. I can leave? No! Dr. Klondike shouts.

The double doors burst open, and four men dressed in specialized hazmat suits raced toward the beanbag chair, each armed with what looks like harpoon guns. They take up positions around the beanbag chairs, then fire is one. An energy net forms and wraps around all the chairs. But the abomination is gone.

Status. Dr. Klondike orders, but his tone of voice says he already knows the result. Negative. One of the suited men responds. Remnant was not contained. Where did he go? I asked.

That is a great question, Dr. Klondike answers. And then I see something in him I haven't seen since I arrived at the facility. A backbone. A question I would not have to answer if you had listened to me like I had asked you to. I believe we should conclude the tour at this juncture and return you to the surface senator. Why? Because some freak got out of your net? out of your net? I scoff.

No, Senator. Because your refusal to listen to me can and will put lives in jeopardy. And as head administrator of this facility, I refuse to allow my people or my subjects to come to harm because of your ego. You forget who you are talking to, Doctor. And you forget where you are standing, Senator. This is not the Capitol or the halls of Congress. We don't have the luxuries that you do, such as a presumption of safety.

We take our lives in our hands daily here, Senator. Every single one of us. A second crew of four steps into the lounge, also dressed in hazmat suits. They join the first group and begin to scan and take samples from the beanbag chair area. I nod. I have to. I have my reasons. Very well, Doctor, I promise to listen.

This is your domain, not mine. I apologize and hope we can continue on with the tour. It is obvious that the good doctor doesn't want to cave at my request and appear weak in front of his people. So it is several seconds before he nods, then gestures toward the double doors where, for a third time he punches in a code. If you will come with me, please, he says and walks through the doors, not waiting for me or holding the door open.

I hurry after him, annoyed at his new, more aggressive tact. We enter a corridor that is as jauntily decorated as the last. lounge area was. Bright pastels color the walls. The tiled floor is a pattern of mixed shapes, tumbling around each other, while cartoon woodland creatures border it on the tall baseboards that stretch for as far as I can see. We walk down the corridor, the woodland creatures watching us. I suppress another shiver. Then we come to our first door. This is one of our interview rooms, Dr. Klondike says as he swipes his badge across a blank square of metal next to the door. The door itself has no handle, so when I hear the click of the lock,

Dr. Klondike gives it a slight push and it recedes a few inches inward, then slides completely into the wall. Inside is a site I've seen in many a facility and on many a continent, just without so many colors. A standard interview setup, Dr. Klondike says, A steel table triple-welded to the floor that... Triple-welded? I ask, studying the large table in the center of the room. It has been painted bright purple.

Why not just bolt it down? Because bolts can be removed, and double-welds don't always hold up to our strongest telekinetics abilities. We have had incidents. It sounds as if incidents are an unfortunate norm around here, Doctor. Yes, you have pointed that out, but incidents are unavoidable with the time. of children we study and house. You are a parent, Senator, so I am sure you know that children can be unpredictable. They are their own human beings, after all.

Was that a cruel dig at me? It was, wasn't it? I don't give him the satisfaction of a response to his thinly veiled attack on my fatherhood. I am also starting to wonder if Dr. Klondike is not as mousy as I first suspected. While I never trusted the man, much like I never trust anyone, I will need to be more cautious around him. He clears his throat, and I simply stare at him. Yes, well, um, he continues.

As you can see, we use a color palette that is supposed to induce feelings of calm and security. Does it work? Do the subjects feel calm and secure when they come in here? I ask as I glance at the obvious two-way mirror that makes up the entire far wall. No. I wait for more explanation, but the doctor doesn't offer one. Let us move on, he says instead, and retreats back into the corridor. For a split second, our eyes meet, and I swear he is thinking of locking me in this interview room.

But I stride into the corridor and the moment passes. As soon as the rooms sliding door closes and locks, he turns and proceeds down the corridor. These doors also lead to the interview rooms, he says, indicating three more doors on either side of us. Up ahead, we have our medical bay on the road. right there, and across from that is the cafeteria. Surprisingly, he leads me into the cafeteria, not the medical bay. I know what a cafeteria looks like, doctor. I'd preferred if we went back to the...

I stopped talking the moment I see how the cafeteria is set up. Each subject must eat in their own separate cubicle, Dr. Klondike says, pointing at the rows of individual cubicles that contain a single table, a single chair, and a showerhead above both. Eating and food can be emotional for children. It is part of our natural instinct to control our bodies. Some subjects can become irate when not presented with meals that are to their exact liking. We curb that behavior through various gases we have developed.

Gases? Such as... We have over a dozen that are effective. We can alter moods, psychological and emotional, as well as chemically restrain children. We can induce euphoria, or we can induce the opposite. And what is the opposite of euphoria, doctor? Terror, pure primal terror. He looks up at me, and I want to take a step away from the man. The look in his eye is not one I am comfortable with.

Do you have something you would like to get off your chest, doctor? I ask, stepping toward him instead of away. Never back down, never show fear, especially with a mouse such as this man. something to get off my chest, he asks and smiles. No, no, not at all. I am trying to get across the seriousness and the many variables we deal with here on a second-to-second basis. I am fully aware of all of that doctor, which is why you have funding.

Funding from afar and witnessing it up closer to very different things, Senator. Yes, I get that. I take another step toward him. Is there something specific you want me to witness? His eyes flash with something. Surprise? Worry? Guilt?

I am unsure. And I do not like being unsure. He shakes his head. Nothing specific, no. Then can we proceed? Show me the medical bay now. He nods and returns the way we came, crossing the corridor to a set of white double doors

that lead us into an extremely impressive room filled with equipment, most of which I cannot name. With your funding out, We have been able to partner with some of the top medical technology corporations on Earth. Most of what you see will not be available to the public for years, if not decades. But we have it here first, and we are extremely grateful. Some subjects' anatomy can be, well, tricky when it comes to basic medical examination and care. With this technology, all of the subjects receive the highest quality medical treatment in the world.

This begs a question, Doctor. Yes. Do you take health insurance? Because I have to admit, I am a little jealous that these freaks have access to services that not even my congressional insurance covers. They are not freaks, Dr. Klondike says coldly. I understand the bias that many have in regards to the children housed here, but we do not tolerate name-calling.

It would be best if you adjusted your attitude, both externally and internally, if we are to continue with the tour. could become dangerous otherwise. Did you just reprimand me, Dr. Klondike? We are in the services area, Senator. When we enter the residence area, you will want to keep your thoughts tight and controlled. Any negative thoughts you have toward the children

could have disastrous effects. We spoke about this above, sir, but I really do need to reiterate the importance of a neutral mind. I always have a neutral mind, doctor. It is how I have come so far in life. A giggle flits about the room. I startle and spin around, looking for the source. Then I realize what is happening.

A remnant? I asked the doctor. How many are there? This is the same remnant, Senator. It has unfortunately taken an interest in you. You may want to put a little more effort into capturing this thing, doctor. The little man snorts a laugh that widens his eyes in embarrassment. My apology, Senator. We have tried everything.

and if a remnant doesn't want to be caught, then it cannot be caught. Perhaps you should put Master Chief Lindstrom on it? Lindstrom? Oh, most certainly not. And why is that? Because her skills are best used for worst-case scenarios, and not the capture of what usually are benign entities. Usually?

Children will be children, Senator. They are erratic and unpredictable. That word, unpredictable. With the money you have been. And given, I would like to see a little more predictability. The giggle comes again, and the abomination shows itself over by the row of examination tables. Its warped face is even more repulsive now that we aren't in the frivolously decorated recreation lounge.

When it raises an arm, it points at me. Even I cannot help but feel a trickle of fear climb up my spine. Who's a bad boy? You are. Bad boy, bad boy. The thing says, still pointing. We should leave. Dr. Klondike says,

Don't you want to call your containment team in here? No, they could harm the equipment. If we leave and ignore it, it will go away. Bad boy, you are a very bad boy. Nasty boy, naughty boy. I glare at the apparition, even though the sight of it disgusts me. Senator, we should leave before it escalates. Escalates?

What does that look like? Oh, Oscar, you know what it looks like. The thing says, then it rushes at me. Both arms outstretched, its mouth wide, its eyes filled with fire and hell. I stumble back, my feet flailing, trying to get as far away from the thing as possible. But it is so fast that it is on me, in my face, pushing me backwards until my back slams into something and a loud crash and clatter fills the room. Oscar Ruiz! You are a bad, bad boy, and you will pay for your wickedness!

That voice! I cry and cross my arms over my face to ward the thing off. It's that same voice! Senator, follow me. Dr. Klondike shouts. A nasty boy! A nasty dirty boy! The thing wails as it claws at me. I can feel its nails digging furrows into my cheeks,

and I try to swat it away to shove the small thing off of me. But it's like I'm shoving a thick mist. Nasty boys must be punished. It screeches. The words mock me because they are my own. I have shouted those very same words. Dear God, is it in my head? Senator!

A hand grabs mine and yanks me toward the medical bay doors. The abomination follows me, screaming the phrase over and over, until we are in the corridor and the doors slam shut.