Author's Note:
This story is part of the
Midas Labs
universe, a collaborative project set in an institute for sexual experimentation.
What's In Room 9B?
(A Midas Labs Tale)
By SabuADT
My name is Kayla Calloway.
In accordance with the terms of the non-disclosure agreement that I have signed, I here provide a written account of the events that occurred last week and my involvement with them.
I had been an orderly at Midas Labs for about a month. I actually got the job the day I turned twenty-six. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Or so I thought at the time.
I guess we'll see if I get to stay here.
I hope I do.
My responsibilities were, pretty much, to bring equipment back and forth between different laboratories on these big rolling carts. Mostly glassware, some chemical compounds in secure packaging, equipment like microscopes, micrometers, scales and weight gauges, things like that. "Kayla, such-and-such doctor needs such-and-such instrument." "Kayla, please fetch three vials of growth serum for our new volunteer." "Kayla, quick, please get 5 vials of reduction serum and bring them here ASAP!" That kinda thing.
Every now and then I also brought lunch to people who didn't have time to stop for a meal in the middle of the day.
That's how I ended up in Miss Eckert's office. She and the other board members were in some big meeting, so I just brought in the sandwiches and bags of chips like always. I swear I wasn't trying to listen to what they were talking about that day.
But... my ears did perk up when I heard one of them ask, "Any advancement on the situation in Room 9B?"
Well, that was like catnip to me.
You see, I roll my cart past Room 9B at least 3 or 4 times every hour. It's one of the central labs in the compound. Most of the labs have glass doors, or at least an observation window. But not Room 9B. Room 9B is completely sealed with a solid steel door. And there's a double extra-thick locking mechanism surrounded by steel cylinders.
Next to the door there's a numbered keypad and a flashing red LED light.
Foreboding, right?
And as if that weren't enough, the door also features a very serious-looking plaque that reads: "Danger. Do not enter."
I never saw anyone go into Room 9B. I never saw anyone come out of it.
Anyone would be curious, right?
The more I saw that thick, heavy door, the more my imagination started racing. What could possibly be in there that was so top secret and dangerous? A giant sentient dildo? Proof of alien life and their sexual practices? A milk-producing experiment gone out of control?
I knew I was in too lowly a position in the company to ever learn the secrets of Room 9B. That's probably what fueled my preoccupation with it.
So when I overheard the board of directors talking about my secret obsession, I couldn't help but listen a little more closely than I should have.
Everyone flipped through the pages in their three-ring notebooks. Presumably they were all flipping to their notes about Room 9B.
I swear I wasn't looking intentionally, but as I was handing Mr. Ashford his hummus and micro greens on a baguette, I saw that the corner of his Room 9B page had the handwritten numbers: "6-5-3-8-2-2."
The keycode to Room 9B. It had to be.
I did my best to behave normally, but my heart was pounding inside my chest. I repeated those numbers in my mind over and over. I wanted to burn them into my brain.
6-5-3-8-2-2.
6-5-3-8-2-2.
6-5-3-8-2-2.
As I left the room and closed the door behind me, I thought I heard someone say something like "... more than a human psyche should endure..."
Outside the office, I was already formulating a plan; I would wait until after hours when fewer people were around. And then I would 6-5-3-8-2-2 myself into Room 9B. My curiosity would be satisfied at last.
It was the longest 6 hours of my life.
Finally, after most of the staff had left for the evening, I had my shot.
I clocked out, officially. I still kept my orderly's coveralls on, so as not to arouse suspicion. And I made my way to that steel door I knew oh so well.
I stood in front of it. Feet shoulder-width apart. I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I almost felt like that door knew that we had business with one another. We had reached a milestone in our relationship.
I placed my left palm on the door to let the room know I was friendly.
I raised my right hand and slowly typed in the code I had been looping in my brain all day: 6. 5. 3. 8. 2. 2.
The flashing LED light changed from red to a solid green.
My breath caught in my throat.
The large cylinders jolted alive with a magnetic clang. They receded from their locked positions, and I heard one more internal lock disengage inside the door. A muted metallic echo confirmed that all of the locks were nod disengaged.
The door opened slowly, inviting me inside.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
At first I felt a mild disappointment. The room was a standard Midas laboratory room, just like any of the others I visited day in and day out for my job. Chrome counters around the perimeter, glass cabinets lining the walls. A refrigerator in the corner.
The only difference was that, unlike most of the laboratories that were in use, the cabinets in this room were all empty. The countertops were bare. It was obvious that once the Midas staff decided to seal this room, everything was cleared out.
And then my attention focused on the center of the otherwise empty room.
Hovering in mid-air, about 5 feet off the ground was a glowing, shimmering orb, about the side of a tennis ball. It was just... floating there!
Clouds of luminescent pearl smoke orbited the ball. And through the layer of cloud I caught glimpses of swirling, multi-colored light. The light pulsed, and the pulses were accompanied by a low, rhythmic rumble. It sounded like distant thunder or the soft roar of the ocean. The sound came in a steady and repeating figure:
Roar. Pause. Pause. Roooooaaaarrrr.
Roar. Pause. Pause. Roooooaaaarrrr.
