The Survival Experiment

"This is ridiculous," Tiffany complained in a whisper, staring incredulously at her cell phone. "No one is answering my texts, and do you know why?"

I raised an eyebrow at my best friend's rhetorical question, beckoning her to finish her thought.

"Because it's six in the morning on a weekend!" she hissed. "I could make a list of things I would rather be doing right now than waiting to be included in some experiment."

"Oh, really?" I challenged her. "Why don't you make a list of things you could get paid better for?"

"Who cares about a thousand dollars? In fact, I am getting so sick of this that I would pay these people a thousand dollars just to let me leave."

"If you had a thousand dollars," I pointed out.

Unable to dispute that fact, Tiffany pretended to read a text message on her phone. But she was right; no one was awake except Tiffany, myself, and the few other people who'd responded to the newspaper advertisement for the Survival Experiment.

As I looked around the room at them, I realized that they were not what I had been expecting. Instead of the huge, athletic, body-builders I had envisioned, these were just normal people, probably in dire need of a few extra dollars.

None of them fit the profile of the stereotypical jock except the man and woman to my left. The female, a shockingly beautiful blonde, was clearly very strong, although her figure was feminine, as demonstrated by the revealing crop top and short shorts she wore. With electric green eyes, she stared straight forward as the man, frighteningly muscular and ruggedly handsome, massaged her shoulders.

On my right sat two good-looking young men, their faces identical, both with the same ocean blue eyes, and everything else as opposite as night and day. They each had one earbud in, connected to one device, which the first held. He had pitch black hair, which by contrast made the other's dirty blonde hair look even lighter. His old, tattered jeans and black t-shirt, which had faded after being washed too many times, looked silly next the argyle sweater and designer jeans worn by his twin.

In a far corner of the room, a woman sat alone, the only thing between her deep brown eyes and her book a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Her figure was lanky and awkward, her round face accented by her dark brown bob. She was so buried inside her book that she might have forgotten she was here.

A short, stocky young woman with her purple hair gelled into a fauxhawk also sat alone, chewing nervously on her necklace. I watched her break off a bead, crush it beneath her teeth, and swallow it. I hoped to myself that it was candy, and that she wasn't in such a trance that she was unconsciously eating plastic—or worse, glass—beads.

There was a dark-skinned man standing (although there were plenty of uninhabited seats) by a rack of magazines and pamphlets about science and medicine. All prejudice aside, he looked scary to me as he prowled back and forth before the rack. On occasion, he would pick something up and flip through it, but never for more than a few seconds. When I thought he might turn around, I averted his gaze.

The last person in the room was an elderly Japanese woman. She was small and frail—she even had a cane leaning against her chair—and I wondered if she had confused this research facility with something else, a hospital perhaps. As I watched her quickly and skillfully knit what appeared to be a tiny slipper, I considered asking her if she needed any help finding directions to her clinic, but I was too afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

I had expected Tiffany and I to be the outcasts of this experiment, but in all actuality, we fit in just as well as the rest of them. The only thing that really set us apart was our age. The advertisement didn't say anything about an age limit, but if it was eighteen, then, as we were one year short, we would have to leave, and by the looks of it, we'd be the only ones.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a woman in a white lab coat stepped out. "Welcome to Anthrolabs, Cleveland Division. I'm Dr. Sage. Are you all here for the Survival Experiment?"

Everyone said yes, or responded otherwise affirmatively. I had expected the old woman to take her leave, but she stayed put.

"Excellent," Dr. Sage said, a devious smile crossing her lips. "Let's get started then." She gestured to the door she came out of.

The first to stand up were the muscular man and woman. They walked past Dr. Sage and into the white hallway, and soon everyone followed.

"Before entering the lab, I must ask you to place all electronics in this bin," Dr. Sage said. "Even off, they might hinder the efficiency of the equipment. Don't worry; you'll get them back in exactly the condition you left them, once the experiment is over."

People started coming forth and dumping their cell phones, ipods, cameras and other electronic devices into the bin.

"Is this all?" Dr. Sage asked. I nudged Tiffany in the side, and she reluctantly put the love of her life inside the plastic container. Dr. Sage sealed it and said, "Dr. Murray is waiting for you in room two," and set off to put away the electronics.

Room two was full of scientific machinery. Much of it looked archaic in a horrifying way, especially the seats that lined the walls, with their numerous leather and metal restraints and old-fashioned gas masks. I suddenly regretted being the one with the bright idea to do this. I didn't even look at Tiffany, but I knew she was now even more furious with me.

Dr. Murray stood in the center of the room. "You may sit down," he said, but no one moved. "You won't be restrained to your seat until I've clarified the purpose of experiment, and what you'll be faced with."

Cautiously, we all began to settle into the torture chairs.

"Here at Anthrolabs, we investigate the mysteries of human nature. In this experiment, we will test specifically your survival instinct. The tasks you will complete will require physical strength as well as critical thinking skills, but ultimately, it all boils down to this—just how far will you go to stay alive?

"You will have seventy-two hours to make it from start to finish, and if you do, I will, as promised, reward you with one thousand dollars." Dr. Sage walked back into the room and stood next to Dr. Murray. There was something odd about them that I couldn't quite place, but that gave me a horrible feeling in my gut. "Any questions?"

I had so many questions that I didn't know where to start.

"All right then," Dr. Murray said. "In that case, we will now fasten your restraints." He and Dr. Sage walked around the room, immobilizing everyone and making us all powerless. Dr. Murray pulled the straps so tightly over my wrists and ankles that I had to bite a hole in my lip to keep from crying out and making myself seem weak. When he pulled the mask over my face, I felt like I was going to suffocate although I had adequate access to the oxygen in the air.

When everyone was restrained, Dr. Murray announced, "When I pull this lever, a gas will be released into your lungs. It isn't toxic, but it may cause you to react strangely. In the case of a seizure or other serious reaction, we cannot allow you to participate in the experiment. If your body does not reject the gas, then good luck."

I heard the creak of the doctor cranking the lever. First there was a hiss, then I detected an odd smell and immediately felt drowsy. My eyelids got heavier and heavier until they were bricks, and I was gone.