And I don’t want to escape.
I want to pull the walls tighter.
I want to make sure he can never leave.
The lights hum their constant song, and I begin to plan tomorrow’s offering, already counting the hours until I hear his footsteps in the corridor again.
Chapter Nine
ALEXEI
Glacial blue.
The words cycle through my processing centers like a virus, corrupting adjacent systems. I told him my favorite color. I offered personal information without tactical justification. I answered a question that served no purpose beyond satisfying his curiosity.
I have been staring at the wall of my quarters for twenty minutes. The paint is institutional gray, selected for its psychological neutrality. I have lived in rooms like this for most of my adult life. I have never noticed the color before.
Now I cannot stop noticing colors. The amber of the lights in his room. The gray of his eyes, fading toward translucent. The red of his blood on my cloth when I wiped his cracked lips. The blue of ice in Siberia, a memory I had not accessed in years until he asked me a question that should have been meaningless.
I run diagnostic protocols on my own behavior. The results are concerning. Heart rate variability increased when he spoke myname. Pupil dilation patterns indicated emotional engagement rather than professional detachment.
I am compromised. The evidence is irrefutable.
The standard response to compromise is reporting. I have drafted this report seven times. I have deleted it seven times. The words arrange themselves on the screen in the proper format—subject line, threat assessment, recommended action—and then my finger moves to the delete function rather than the send function.
I do not want to be removed from this assignment.
The wanting is itself evidence of further compromise.
I close the monitoring software and make a decision.
Stress-response sessions serve multiple purposes in extended interrogations. They verify the accuracy of freely offered information. They maintain psychological pressure on subjects who may be attempting to manipulate their captors. They remind both parties of the fundamental power dynamics.
I have not conducted a stress-response session with this subject since the mapping on Day Three. The omission represents a deviation. Standard protocol recommends verification at minimum intervals.
This ends now.
I prepare the equipment with the methodical attention I bring to all operational tasks. The tray contains: temperature-controlled metal implements, neural stimulation electrodes designed for sensory verification, restraint modifications. Everything sterile. Everything precise.
I do not bring broth.
The corridor is silent as I walk to the Processing Room. My footsteps maintain their standard rhythm despite the elevated cortisol levels my body is producing. The subject will hear me approaching. The subject will anticipate the routine we have established.
The subject will be wrong.
The biometric scanner accepts my palm. The lock disengages.
I enter the room without adjusting the lights.
He is awake, his head turning toward the door with the eager attention that his conditioning has produced. His eyes find me in the amber dimness, and I watch the recognition cycle through his expression: relief first, then something warmer, then confusion as he registers the differences in my presentation.
I am wearing gloves. Black nitrile, tight-fitting.
I am not carrying water.
“Alexei?” His voice carries uncertainty now, the confidence from yesterday’s session replaced by wariness. “Is something wrong?”
I do not respond.
