FEATURED STORY
I put on the last clean, collared shirt I had; a tie, because I was going to work, some jeans, my boots, and a leather jacket. I coasted out
of the door, happy that I could say something most people can’t.
I love my job.
***
“Right on time, guy.” Josh shot me the finger guns as I walked into the building. He did that every time anyone entered the building.
Likeable guy, but a little corny. He played around a bit, but had a fool’s wisdom for lack of a better word. “Everyone’s just coming in.”
“Thanks Josh, Abby come in yet?” I walked toward the elevator.
“I kinda thought she’d be with you compadre. I heard she and Kris were on the rocks again.” He looked down at his desk. He was the
guard at the facility and had a console that allowed for access to lower levels of the building where, incidentally, Project Phantasmagoria was
taking place.
To my understanding this building was built back when Endwater was a new town. I’m guessing back during the Industrial Revolution
or something, meaning that the lower levels were either built before or during that time. For what purpose I didn’t know but it did make me
wonder as I stepped into the elevator.
“Uh, yeah heard about that.” The problem with working on such a small project, was that everyone knew your business. Though I suppose, that time that Abby came to me crying in the men’s bathroom and we stayed in one of the stalls for half an hour didn’t help. “Well, I’m
going down, Josh. Thanks”
“No problem, buddy. Have fun with all that world-jumping stuff.” He lifted his console put a key in it and pushed it down. As the doors
closed, the lights flickered and there was a noticeable shift as if the elevator reconfigured itself into something else. Then I began to go down.
. .down. . . down. The elevator jolted and came to a halt. I didn’t even need the doors to be open to know that they were working on a session.
That’s what we called the experiments that were preformed with and on us.
When I walked out of the elevator, whirring machines greeted me along with flashing lights. There were two people there. A man, older
than me, was monitoring the electrodes. He had short, cropped salt and pepper hair, a mustache, and wore slacks and a polo shirt. This was
Doctor Barry Swather. The woman with him, Dr. Felicity Bright, was younger and lighter, with jet-black hair. She wore a skirt with a gray
blouse, flat shoes, and glasses. There were two chairs reclined with electrodes hanging from the ceiling above them. They were attached to
two people, a man and a woman, who had their eyes closed: caught in the middle of REM sleep.
“You’re early, Mr. Washington,” said Dr. Swather. “Ms. Santos and Mr. Davis will be in their respective sessions for half an hour more.”
Dr. Bright looked up from monitoring the two people’s brain waves.“That’s good because your partner still isn’t here. So, go relax for a
while.”
“Okay, I’m gonna go and have a smoke.” I made my way back to the elevator, stepped in, and it hummed as the jolt took me up.
I slid a cigarette out of my sleeve. Just before I reached the door, I saw Abby and Kris kissing out front of the building. I kept my head
down as I hit the cool morning air and lit up. Kris was taller than Abby, and she was also a model. Her raven hair complimented her angular
face, and the white dress and heels she wore accentuated her Amazonian figure. Brick house was an understatement. Abby wore skinny
jeans, a plaid shirt, and canvas sneakers. There was a snap-back, trucker hat connected to her belt and, although she was smaller than Kris
and her breasts weren’t as big, she made up for it with hips and an ass that could be used a shelf.
“Hey, Jace.” Kris walked up to me with Abby sheepishly in tow. “Take care of my girl in there. I don’t wanna lose her again.” She looked
into Abby’s eyes with all the love in the world. Abby looked at her and then at me. If only she k