"But I assume all other rules still apply to us?" Salt asks cautiously.
"Absolutely. That support only provided the initial push to get you accepted. Everything else you will go through exactly like any other couple."
"Are there many Second Chance couples on the island?" Salt continues.
"Quite a lot. The island is divided into sectors that keep only limited contact with one another. Sector C, where you will be housed, includes only couples referred through the Second Chance program."
"So offenders are isolated from the rest, and the other sectors are for volunteers?"
Gomez lets out a slightly embarrassed laugh.
"It simply works best. Shared experiences help create a better atmosphere and prevent conflicts with residents of the other sectors."
Mr. Gomez turns the tablet toward us, showing an aerial view.
At first glance, it is hard to make anything out, but it appears to be a group of small buildings arranged in neat rows.
"These are what we call houses. In reality, they are fully self-sufficient modular living units. Inside, there is a living area that also serves as a bedroom, a small kitchenette, and a single bathroom. That is all. The conditions are not luxurious or spacious, but the space is intentionally limited to encourage…" Mr. Gomez clears his throat lightly and smiles pointedly, "…closeness between partners, which is the whole point," he adds with a foolish little chuckle.
We are clearly not a very appreciative audience. Both of us look unimpressed as we stare at the presented pictures.
Mr. Gomez doesn’t seem discouraged and continues.
"All participants eat meals in the communal dining hall, located here." He taps the screen, zooms in on a building, and selects it. A row of photos pops up showing the interior.Naturally, the images are idealized. Long tables filled with smiling people, clearly staged promotional shots.
Then he straightens slightly and suddenly adds, out of nowhere:
"All participants are also required to undergo regular blood tests and medical checkups with our healthcare team, which oversees the entire process."
"Are we being hormonally stimulated in any way, even subtly?" Salt asks.
"We rely almost entirely on natural stimulation. We have designated areas intended to encourage natural hormone production in alphas."
"Which means?" Salt’s tone grows even more suspicious.
"We host bonding events like dance, couple activities, group games, and we provide sparring areas for alphas. Alpha-to-alpha competition helps maintain elevated hormone levels among our participants."
Frustration surges through me. "Wait, we have to fight?"
I ran away from that kind of life. Was I really going to be forced back into fighting again?
Gomez chuckles, looking a bit abashed.
"Those activities are entirely optional. No one is forced. We simply encourage participation. It is all recreational. We also offer other forms of interaction, such as bingo, barbecues, and—"
"And how’s that supposed to stimulate hormones? Bingo? Barbecues? That sounds like something for grandpas," Salt mutters.
Gomez remains cheerful and unfazed.
"It is about group interaction. When alphas and betas remain in close proximity, they may experience a certain degree of… mutual jealousy. That also stimulates increased hormone production."
"Sounds like a stretch to me. Hard to believe it’s effective," I mutter, leaning back against the chair, unimpressed.
A hint of unease crosses Gomez’s face. He glances aside, his heart rate picking up slightly, which can sometimes signal a lie.
"And yet it works. We have a high success rate," he assures, his tone suddenly firm, as if he wants to close the subject.
I glance at Salt and catch his gaze lingering on my face for a brief moment. I notice the faint twitch of his brow. Was he also unconvinced by what Gomez just said? We do not press the issue right now, but I am almost certain Mr. Gomez has not given us the full picture.
