Fear

There were several rows of scientifically used and tested tanks, organized in rows and columns that would easily dizzy one's mind. There was a long hall in between the two “cases” of tanks that spread out from against the wall to the end of the hall.
There was about a hundred tanks in that single, large room, but only the scientists and specialists that worked at the facility only knew for sure. Each large capsule-like tank was held with a large metal support above and underneath each. The tanks glowed a bright neon-color, the ones farthest from the wall a light neon-like orange, then as you progressed to the older tanks closer against the wall, the inside of the tanks glowed a neon, blood red. As chilly, gloomy, and dangerous the tanks looked, each tank had a low buzz of a refrigerator rumbling.
There were no windows, nonetheless any other opening that could be easily seen by the naked eye. The gloomy atmosphere didn't help. The room was almost like an ice room, only no ice froze against the walls or the thick plexiglass of the tanks. Although there was no ice in sight, the room was as cold as a meat room, perhaps as cold as a winter day in the middle of a strong blizzard.
Everything seemed still, almost as if the room had just been created and not checked a second time. But because of the strict and extreme hygiene of the specialists that examined the tanks, each tank was as clean as a whistle. It was easy to tell that they handled their job very seriously and cleaned the tanks often.

There was a sudden click, disturbing the buzz of the tanks and the stillness of the room. A stream of light slowly made its way into the room, the freezing mist visible through the ray of light coming through. The now visible doors moved slowly, a few footsteps coming into the cold, somewhat slippery floor of the room. But the doors clamped shut before enough light was sent in.
“Quiet, quiet,” a voice hissed in command, and seemed to be in the lead and closest to the tanks. Their voices weren't very welcoming, neither were their features in clothing and the features they held on their face.
The anxious students behind the lead specialist, also their guide, whispered to each other in sight of the glowing tanks. Dr. Hanks wasn't very pleased by their noise, swearing under his breath wishing in full regret that he had volunteered to take them in. The job he was about to do took very serious business, yet the rest of the staff thought it wasn't too serious for the senior students.
Dr. Hanks felt pathetic, being a guide and all, feeling as though he could have spent his time more wisely, not guiding a few youngsters into the most solitaire and significant room of the whole facility. He nudged his glasses and waved his hand over impatiently, his footing firm and careful, while the students he lead kept their eyes at the tanks rather than on their footing. Their curiosity, Hanks thought, has distracted them from realizing that the floor these tanks were made under, needed somewhat complex footing.
“Questions?” he said, shaking his head briefly, his voice echoing. His breath created a small cloud of fog, his impatience getting the best of him – as it always did.
His face had a purposely-dreaded face and swore to himself after a student had raised their hand eagerly. “Yes?” Dr. Hanks sighed.
“What are in these tanks?” he asked, beaming. He was glad he had been picked, a smug smile on his chapped pink lips.
“Top secret,” Dr. Hanks replied quickly. “Next!”
Without raising a hand, one asked,“Why is it top secret?” Half the group bobbed their heads like a curious pup, while the rest nodded in agreement. Dr. Hanks sighed again, cursing their pride as it intimidated him too much.
Dr. Hanks remembered what the staff had said. They wanted him to answer each of their questions correctly, without hesitation, and with patience. Remember Hanks. They are just a few curious pupils, that's all. Dr. Hanks thought of them a little more than just “curious students”. A bunch of little...
“Dr. Hanks?” the student's voice interrupted his train of thought and for a minute there, he had almost mistaken the interruptive voice for one of the staff members.
Hanks shook his head violently, pushing his hand through the air as if to pull away the remaining parts of his thoughts out of his head physically. He scowled and gritted his teeth. “Can you repeat the question?” he said through his teeth.
“Why won't you tell us what's in these tanks?”
“Because you're all just a bunch of seniors, a little too curious and pretend that you're actually interested in all this, when you really just want to tell the other normal humans about our secret projects!” Dr. Hanks suddenly exploded, throwing his arms in the air. He sprinted his way back for the door, while he wished he could stomp. He had his hands balled into fists and held on his sides, while all eyes were put on him and his mentally-bursting head.
He left his pupils in the room, pushing through the doors angrily, struggling with the invisible clamp, and letting out one last aggravated breath.
“Dr. Han—”
The door slammed behind him, a long moment of silence shrouding over them, their questions hanging in the midst, and the long buzz surrounding them as they were alone in the freezing cold room. Their eyes fell disappointingly at the translucent platinum-tinted metal-like floor, that seemed liked had been waxed over and over. Their questions hung, as if through the buzzing machinery, only then letting silence devour them.