Author's note:
Part 5 of 'Trapped' is still being actively worked on, I just needed a little change of pace. I had imagined this to be about 10-15 pages (in word document terms), but it ended up being much longer than that. This story is my submission for the 2018 April Fool's Day contest, so don't hesitate to vote. Hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!
Special thanks to AFschizoid for a bit of editorial help.
***
"Caleb! You're here!"
I pulled the door shut and turned around just as the enthusiastic brunette collided with me, wrapping her arms about my shoulders as she pulled me in for a tight hug.
"I'm soo happy to see you!" she called with exaggerated exuberance, and I arched an eyebrow at the strangely warm reception.
Abigail Walker, my elder sister, was five years my senior, and I'd been visiting her for the Christmas holidays for as long as I could remember.
But even though we were much closer than what was considered typical for most siblings, her current show of affection was far from ordinary.
"Just so you know I've got no money to lend you, my car is in the shop, and I- eek!" I yelped as she suddenly brushed her fingers near my armpits, and she smirked wickedly as I leapt clear of her reach.
"Can't your sister just be happy to see you?" she asked, suddenly putting on an innocent tone, and I scratched my head, making a show of how puzzling the concept was to me.
I approached her warily, and she rolled her eyes and folded her arms as I sniffed at her a bit.
"They finally did it, huh... did they replace you, or was it a brainwashing?"
She let out an exaggerated sigh and as I sensed that she'd let her guard down, I slipped behind her without warning and quickly hoisted her off her feet.
My sister had a curvaceous, full figure, but standing no more than five and a half feet tall, she was light as a feather and I easily hoisted her up with one hand around the waist.
"Caleb noooo, ahhh!" she screamed, and as I used my free hand to slip her slacks just a little off of her butt she thrashed about, kicking wildly and cackling gleefully despite the rough treatment.
As I settled her down, she glared at me despite wearing a huge smile on her face, and I gave another thoughtful 'hm.'
"That mole's still on your ass, so it's obviously the same old body. Hypnosis maybe?" I offered, as she rolled her eyes and made a show of fixing her pants on straight, before putting a hand on her hip.
"How do you even know about that mole?" she asked reproachfully, but I waved her accusation away dismissively as I responded:
"Swimsuits, dear sister. Swimsuits."
"Hmn? Are you
actually
admitting that you perv on your big sis?" she asked?
"With neither shame nor regret! I am a man, am I not?" I announced regally, puffing my chest out with pride, and she put both hands on her hips as she responded with appal:
"Being rotten is one thing, but do you
have
to be so proud of it? You're incorrigible!"
"Good, then I guess you won't be needing me!" I announced with a triumphant smile, as I quickly picked up my light travel bag and made a beeline for the guest room.
"No, Ugh! Wait wait wait- fine! I need your help with something," she whined, and I dropped my bags, a broad smile on my face:
"Oh Abby, it
is
you," I called, wrapping my hands about her in an exaggerated show of relief, "I thought you were a goner!"
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered with a pout, rolling her eyes repeatedly as I continued to make a show of gushing over her.
"So what can I do you for?" I asked, and to my surprise she smirked a little at the innuendo.
"This! Come on, you'll see!" she called, and as I eyed her suspiciously she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the living room.
"Wha- hey! Can't I at least drop my bags off first?"
"Oh come on, you can do that later," she quipped, a definite skip of excitement in her step as she dragged me along.
"Huh? What is this?" I asked, noting now that there was a video paused in mid view on the flat screen TV in her apartment living room.
"Footage from the study groups we ran last week."
"Oh, those poor souls," I lamented.
My sister was a clinical psychologist and it was a bit of a running gag in our family to imply that she was probably breaking more minds than she fixed.
"So what's the prognosis doc?" I asked, and she shushed me as she raised the volume a bit before hitting play on the television remote.
I was rather surprised to see that the image was in black and white, and there seemed to be a mesh of some kind over the lens of the camera.
The scene on screen also seemed to be a fair bit away, making the details a bit hazy.
There seemed to be an ordinary looking man, maybe in his mid-forties or so, wearing an anguished expression on his face as he stood in front of what appeared to be a control panel of some kind, and on the other side of the room was a very young girl, her hands and feet tied to the arm rests and feet of the chair respectively.
"What is this-?"
"Shh!" Abby shushed me quickly, so I turned my attention back to the screen just as the man pushed a button on the control panel before speaking into what looked from here like a microphone.
"
I'm sorry," the man spoke, "I don't know the answer, and time's almost up."
The man's voice was tense, and he seemed panicked.
"What do I-?"
*Bzzz!
The man winced as a loud buzzing sound played over the speaker, and the girl in the chair suddenly seemed agitated.
She shook her head then suddenly screamed out loudly, twitching and writhing about as if being painfully wounded for about four or five seconds, before finally going still.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" he called, as he ran his hands desperately through his hair,
I tilted my head at Abby in concern, and she gave a nervous little chuckle, before returning her attention to the screen.
"Four minutes till the next penalty, Mr Roberts," a warbled voice called over the speakers, and the man ran his hands through his hair as he returned his attention to a screen on the panel beside the microphone.
The man seemed to be interacting with what appeared to be a touch interface screen on the control panel, casting furtive glances at a countdown timer that I now noticed on the far right wall.
He rubbed his temples gingerly, his anxiety increasing as every second ticked by until finally the countdown clock entered the final minute of the allotted four minutes.
The man interacted with the panel, his hands shaking and betraying his uncertainty, and as the clock entered the final ten seconds, he pushed the button on the panel and spoke quickly into the mic:
"Is it the Swede?" he asked, and a buzzer sounded in response, and the girl again began to scream in pain.
The man ran his hands through his hair again, and the voice spoke out over the intercom:
"Incorrect response, Mr Roberts. You have two more guesses before extended punishment will ensue. You have three and a half minutes till the next penalty."
"Am I witnessing murder?" I asked, unable to look away as I studied the scene with a horrified kind of fascination.
"No, but he doesn't know the shocks aren't real," Abby explained, and I chuckled a little.
"That's wicked," I muttered, sounding a little more impressed than I intended. "So what's the question?" I asked.
"Einstein's riddle," Abby muttered, and I rolled my eyes at her.
"The one with 'who owns the pet' and 'who lives next to who?'" I asked, and she nodded, explaining:
"He has three guesses until the girl gets an 'extended period of repeated punishments,' and every time the timer runs out she gets 'punished' as well."
The man continued to interact with the screen as time passed by, however this time as the countdown approached one minute, he quickly pressed the button, speaking into the microphone:
"It's the German!" he exclaimed, but this time as the buzzer sounded, the girl didn't scream and a door from the left of the room quickly opened and some people in lab coats came in, one of whom I immediately recognized as Abby, and untied a seemingly unhurt girl, who was now smiling, as she shook the man's hand and gave him an apologetic hug.
"So... the whole thing was a gag?" I asked, and Abby nodded sheepishly, motioning towards the screen.
"She's an actress. Damn good one too," Abby noted, and I sighed with relief as the room was cleared and the screen went black.
"So he didn't know anything?" I asked, and Abby shook her head.
"Well- explain away," I continued, and Abby folded her legs on the sofa as she turned to face me.
"So we're doing a study on human behaviour. How they react when placed in irrationally difficult situations? Like being asked to solve a puzzle with someone else's life on the line."
"Wow. So he really thought that you all were hurting her?" I asked, and Abby nodded again.
"Sort of. I mean, he didn't know anything at all about what the experiment would be like.
"But I guess you really can't hurt people, can you," I asked, and she regarded the question thoughtfully.
"Not unless they consent to it. I mean, some of the greatest research results were attained by researchers who were willing to put themselves at risk for the sake of their research," Abby explained, and I gulped a little as the thought of Abby putting herself in harm's way popped into my head.
She was dedicated to her profession if nothing else, and the thought unsettled me.
"But, you're right," she continued, "we couldn't really hurt an innocent child, and Mr Roberts probably knew that. So that's where the actress came in. It was her job to create reasonable doubt."
"Hmm. I see."
"And~," she added in a singsong tone, "the release forms he signed were worded in an intentionally suspicious way. Like, 'you are required to obey any commands given regardless of the consequences,' et cetera et cetera."
"How the hell do you get people to do this stuff," I asked, and she smiled coyly in response.
"Funny you should ask that..."
"Oh fuck no," I replied immediately, getting up and picking up my bag as I headed for the guest room.
"Oh come on! Just hear me out," she called, as she followed after me, and as I settled into the room and began unpacking, doing my best to ignore her, she leaned in against the door frame, shooting me a veritable puppy dog stare.
"No. I don't like people messing with my head normally, much less having it done by professionals."
"We're paying two grand to participants," she added, and I stared at her with my mouth wide open.
"So that's how you trick these schmucks," I muttered, giving a little appreciative whistle. "You know, I could use that kind of money. My car really is in the shop- I had to borrow Dad's just to drive here."
