Thirty seconds elapsed, then: “The future, mostly. We talked about Carl, too. We talked about Carl a lot. Carl, Carl, Carl. What to do with Carl.”
Carl frowned. “Why are you calling him ‘David’ rather than his designation?”
“His designation?”
“Subject ‘D.’”
“Because that sounds cold. He doesn’t like it.”
“Who gives a shit what he likes?” Carl picked up a pen and nervously began twirling it between his fingers. “Everybody in this place is acting fucking weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Just weird. I ate lunch in the cafeteria earlier, and nobody was talking.”
“Maybe they have nothing to talk about.”
“There were at least twenty people. Nobody said a word.”
“I like silence,” Warren replied.
The pen spun faster between Carl’s fingers. His eyes landed on something, small and white, sitting on the far corner of the console. “What is that?”
“Doctor Durgin’s hearing aid.”
The pen went still in Carl’s hand. “She’s deaf. Why would she have a hearing aid?”
“Not completely deaf,” Warren said.
“What do you mean? Isn’t that why she got the job?”
“She had meningitis when she was a child. She lost more than 99 percent of her auditory range, really everything but the deepest of base frequencies. Technology is always advancing, though, making strides. What was once considered impossible is commonplace.” Warren smiled. “I wanted to be a scientist when I was a kid, but I didn’t have the grades. That’s why I took the job here. I figured I could at least be around it, be a part of something bigger. You should talk to the doctor about her life’s journey. She is really a remarkable woman.”
Carl had gone pale. “She takes the hearing aid out when she goes in there, though, right? That’s why it’s sitting here? She forgot it?”
Warren said, “She wanted to hear his voice. Just the one time. That’s what she said. He has a beautiful voice. David Pickford is a beautiful man.”
Subject “D” stood and approached the opposite side of the observation window.
Carl jammed his finger onto the microphone button. “Step back from the window!”
“That’s a nice pen, Carl.”
“How can he see us? That is one-way glass.”
Warren tilted his head toward the ceiling, closed his own eyes. “He said when the fluorescents are on, when it’s bright, the glass doesn’t work so good.”
“Get back from the window!”
Subject “D” smiled broadly. “Hey, Carl, I bet if you shoved that pen into your eye, good and hard, you could reach your brain.”
“Get the fuck back!”
“Carl, go ahead and do that for me. Bury that pen to the hilt in your eye.”
Carl did.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Carl gripped the pen firmly in his right hand and rammed it into his eye socket. His remaining eye went wide with surprise.
