Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  “Surprisingly, everyone soon adapted to their roles and even though they knew it wasn’t real, they all became too absorbed in their roles and the experiment was abandoned after only six days.”

  Starting to feel uncomfortable, Prosper uncrossed his legs and scribbled to write as many pertinent details as he could. “So let me guess, the prison – you’re doing a similar experiment?”

  Klement nodded. “At the time of the original experiment, there were ethical concerns, comparing it to the Milgram experiment.”

  “Milgram experiment?”

  “Yes, it was a series of social psychology experiments conducted by psychologist, Stanley Milgram, in 1961. The experiment studied the willingness of the participants to obey an authority figure who instructed them to perform acts that conflicted with their personal conscience. The experiment was started three months after the start of the trial of Nazi war criminal, Otto Adolf Eichmann, sometimes called the architect of the Holocaust, as it was his job to facilitate and manage the logistics of the mass deportation of Jews to ghettos and extermination camps in Eastern Europe during World War Two.”

  Prosper chewed his bottom lip. He didn’t like the sound of any of this, and he started to wonder what the hell he had signed up for.

  Klement cleared his throat. “Milgram designed his study to answer the question, were Eichmann and his accomplices merely following orders as they claimed, despite violating their deepest moral beliefs? Or were they in fact evil and cold-hearted?”

  “So what was the experiment?”

  “Well, Milgram created an electric shock generator. The control switch was marked clearly in 15 volt increments, ranging from 15 to 450 volts. He also placed labels indicating the shock level, such as ‘Moderate’ (75 to120 Volts) and ‘Strong’ (135 to 180 Volts). The switches 375 to 420 Volts were marked ‘Danger: Severe Shock’ and the two highest levels 435 to 450, was marked ‘XXX’. Of course, the shock generator was in fact phoney and would only produce sound when the switches were pressed. Forty male subjects were recruited via mail and a newspaper ad. They thought they were going to participate in an experiment about ‘memory and learning’.

  Next, the subject met an ‘experimenter’, the person leading the experiment, and another person they were told was another subject. The other subject was in fact an accomplice acting as a subject. He was really a forty-seven year old male accountant.”

  Klement drummed his fingers on the table as he gathered his thoughts. “The two subjects drew slips of paper to indicate who was going to be a ‘teacher’ and who was going to be a ‘learner’. This was in fact a set-up, and the real subject would always get the role of ‘the teacher’.

  “The teacher was shown the learner strapped to a chair and saw electrodes being attached. The subject was then seated in another room in front of the shock generator, from where they couldn’t see the learner.

  “Now the purpose of the experiment was to see how long someone would keep giving shocks to another person when ordered to do so by an authority figure. The subject was instructed to teach word-pairs to the learner. When the learner made a mistake, the subject was instructed to punish the learner by giving him a shock, fifteen volts higher for each mistake. Of course, the learner never received the shocks, but pre-taped audio was triggered when a shock-switch was pressed. If the teacher queried anything, the experimenter, seated in the same room, answered with predefined prods, ‘Please continue’, ‘Please go on’, ‘The experiment requires that you go on’, ‘It is absolutely essential that you continue’, ‘You have no other choice, you must go on’. If the teacher asked who was responsible if anything happened to the learner, the experimenter answered ‘I am responsible’.”

  Prosper’s bad feeling intensified.

  “Although most of the subjects were uncomfortable doing it, all forty of them obeyed up to 300 volts. Before the experiment, the experts expected between one and three percent of the teachers would continue to give shocks, but do you know how many actually did?

  Prosper shrugged.

  “Have a guess?”

  “Five percent?”

  “Of the forty participants, twenty five of them continued to give shocks up to the maximum 450 volts. That’s over sixty percent of them.”

  Prosper was shocked. “So what happened to Eichmann?”

  “He was convicted and hanged in 1962.”

  Prosper wiped his palms on his thighs to remove some of the sweat. “So what’s going on here?”

  “We’re building on Milgram and Zimbardo’s experiments. Despite the selection procedure, the Stanford Experiment was flawed. Everyone, no matter who they are, has social and environmental influences. These can be so deep-seated that we wouldn’t know about them, so there’s no way to assess whether the test subjects were reacting out of nature or nurture. To assess this properly, we need a tabula rasa – a blank slate, an individual without any built-in mental content.”

  “And where would you find anyone like that?”

  “Ah, that’s the problem. Everyone has emotional baggage. What we’ve had to do is wipe their memories.”

  Prosper coughed, his eyes opening wide. “You’ve brainwashed people! Who on earth would volunteer for anything like that?”

  Klement shook his head. “It’s not brainwashing, it’s a complete wipe. Researchers discovered a particular protein that plays a crucial role in the formation of memories. We’ve used a biological process to affect this protein and wipe the brain. And you’re right; we can’t get many volunteers for this sort of experiment.”

  The implications struck Prosper like a punch to the gut and goose bumps erupted along his arms. “So where do you get your test subjects?”

  “Prisons, dropouts, terminally ill patients, there’s always someone available. Everyone has their price.”

  “So what’s the point of this experiment?”

  “That’s easy Mr. Snow. We want to see whether nurture begets nature – whether someone with no preconceived ideas or thoughts can be made to kill without compunction.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Prosper stood up. He felt as though the walls had constricted and he sucked air through his mouth to get it into his lungs faster.

  “Something wrong, Prosper?” Lester asked.

  “No, no, of course nothing’s wrong. Experimenting on people, I get to hear about it all the time.”

  “You may be being flippant,” Klement said, “but how many experiments do you imagine take place everyday that you know nothing about? The ones that are reported are only the tip of the iceberg; the ones deemed acceptable to be published in Scientific Weekly. The more … questionable experiments never get reported on, but they’re just as important. Sometimes even more so. What we’re doing here has far reaching implications into the nature of mankind.”

  “So these recent killings that you’ve been so keen to cover up, I take it they have something to do with your … experiment?”

  Klement looked over Prosper’s shoulder at Lester, his expression deadpan.

  “Well?” Prosper said.

  “The experiment has been compromised,” Lester said.

  Prosper turned around. “How?”

  “One of the test subjects … escaped.”

  “So that’s who’s doing the killings?”

  Lester nodded.

  “Great. So you’ve created your goddamn monster and now it’s out there, killing without compunction. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “We need to contain the situation, and to do that, we need our test subject back, preferably unharmed.”

  Prosper looked at Klement, and then back at Lester. “And who sanctions this?”

  Lester cocked his head to the side. “The same people who pay yours and my wages.”

  “The government?”

  Lester nodded. “Among others.”

  “Others?”

  “Like the experiments, the government is only the tip of the iceberg. There are other more secretive powers that the gove
rnment answers to.”

  Prosper snorted. “And you really expect me to believe that?”

  “Oh, you’ll believe, Prosper. Remember, you’re a member of one of these secretive movements now. But enough chitchat. Your job is to find the escapee.”

  “And where do I start?”

  “First, you get the guided tour of the facility. That’ll allow you to get a handle on the situation. I just hope you’ve got a strong stomach.” He nodded at Klement. Klement stood and walked out of the room. Prosper and Lester followed.

  They continued to the barred corridor and Klement pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door so they could enter. Prosper heard the sound of screaming and shouting, but it was muffled.

  A guard wearing sunglasses and dressed in the same uniform as Klement stepped out of a room to their left and nodded.

  “The glasses help dehumanise the guards. In here, definite boundaries have to be maintained. There’s no fraternisation between the prisoners and the guards.”

  “The first victim,” Prosper said. “That was one of the guards, wasn’t it?”

  Klement nodded. “Yes. It was most unfortunate. He must have tried to stop the prisoner from escaping.”

  “So how long has this experiment been running for?”

  “A few years.”

  “Years!”

  “We are doing a thorough job, but sometimes the subjects, well; let’s just say they can’t handle the situation.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  Klement didn’t respond. Instead, he opened a door on the right and walked through. Prosper followed; found himself in a room with a desk and another door. A guard sat at the desk, tapping the keyboard on a laptop. The whole of one wall was covered with monitor screens. “Professor Keyes. Are we about ready to induct prisoner 181288?”

  The man glanced up. His sunglasses were resting on top of his head. He looked to be in his late forties, his full beard trimmed short. “Everything’s set.”

  Klement nodded. “As I mentioned, the prisoners here have had their memories wiped. That way we’re starting with clean slates.”

  Prosper stood beside Klement and one of the screens burst into life, showing a naked man in a room. The man’s hair was shaved short and he was sitting on the stone floor with his arms wrapped around his knees.

  “All right, Keyes, you can begin.”

  Keyes pressed a couple of buttons on the keyboard and Prosper saw what looked like a black cloud sail into the room. He narrowed his eyes to get a closer look.

  “What you’re looking at,” Klement said, “is a swarm of flies. This subject is only on the initial stage. The flies will drive him to distraction, as you can see.”

  The man was dancing around the room, flailing his hands around like something possessed.

  “This is his first experience of killing anything since he was incarcerated.”

  Prosper’s stomach turned itself in knots. This was madness. “What the hell is making him kill a swarm of flies going to prove? Anyone locked in there would kill them. It proves nothing.”

  “We’re programming him like a computer.”

  “Programming him?”

  “To kill. We start with small things and then gradually introduce larger things to see how far they’ll go.”

  “So how is any of this proving whether it’s nature or nurture? You’re not giving him much choice.”

  “Of course he has a choice.”

  “Perhaps not directly, but he’s not got much choice in this case. They’re probably driving him mad.”

  Klement shook his head. Prosper looked across at Lester; saw that he was smiling coyly.

  “It’s a multi-stage process. We run the test a few times, wiping the memories after each test so that we can assess which stimulus has affected them and to what extreme. If it’s in their nature, they’ll kill without much provocation. If it’s a nurturing process, then we can evaluate it by how much they have been subjected to.”

  “Subjected to?”

  “Like the Milgram experiment showed, people will generally do what they’re instructed to when told to by an authoritarian figure. But how far will these people go? Will they kill? You’ll understand more in a moment. Keyes, activate the monitors please.”

  Keyes pressed a couple of buttons and all of the monitor screens burst into life. Prosper took an involuntary step back, shaking his head, eyes wide. All of the screens showed images of different rooms, and in each one was a person.

  “That man,” Klement pointed at a figure strapped to a chair, “is being subjected to a twenty four hour bombardment of sound and images. As you can see, the images are of violence, beheadings, beatings, explosions, war. His eyes are pinned open so that he has no choice but to watch, and as you can see, the screen completely surrounds him.”

  Prosper swallowed, his stomach turning over. Another man was playing with what looked like a dead cat, but it was so badly decomposed, it was hard to tell what it was. “This is crazy. What the hell are you people up to?”

  “We’ve already told you. But to get results, you have to push boundaries.”

  “It’s like some sort of Nazi concentration camp. You’re … you’re no better than Eichmann.”

  Lester put his hand on Prosper’s shoulder. “I told you the world could be a bad place.”

  “I didn’t expect … this.” He gestured towards the screens, found his eyes drawn to the image of a man curled up in a foetal position being beaten by two guards with batons.

  “It looks extreme, but it’s sometimes necessary for scientific advancement.” Lester stared at the screens and clucked his tongue. “You’ll see worse before this is over, Prosper. But I know you can handle it.”

  “If that industrial unit was a hub, how many others are there?”

  “A few,” Klement said. “We needed to keep the stations apart to see whether the same results are achieved in different environments with different subjects.”

  Prosper turned away to block out the horrors taking place on the monitors, but he couldn’t forget, would never forget.

  CHAPTER 24

  “At least you didn’t lock me up this time,” Rivers said.

  Wolfe grunted and continued reading the condolence cards on the table. “It’s funny how certain people come out of the woodwork when they think you’re dead. I haven’t seen him for years.” He threw the card across the kitchen, then picked up a glass of brandy and took a swallow.

  “Bit early, but that looks like a good drop of stuff.”

  “Too good for the likes of you.”

  “I don’t know what your problem is, but it’s me that’s got the short end of the stick here.”

  Wolfe’s mobile phone rang. He picked it up off the table where it was vibrating in a slow circle and accepted the call. “Yeah.”

  Rivers watched Wolfe nodding his head as he listened to the speaker on the other end. He let out a bark of laughter, said, “Well I think they’ll be a little pissed off when they know I’m not really dead … yeah, well I guess if they’re daft enough to pay it … okay, well they’re still getting a piece of art … sure, I guess any publicity is good publicity. Let me know how it goes.” He disconnected the call and put the phone back on the table.

  “Well something’s cheered you up.” Rivers looked at Wolfe’s grinning face.

  “That was my agent. It seems the price of my work has skyrocketed now that I’m supposedly dead. I told him the other day that it was a mistake, but he wants me to continue the pretence for a while.”

  Rivers grunted. “Glad to see someone’s benefiting from this then.”

  Wolfe grinned.

  “So has Prosper gone to the park to meet up with whoever it was that rang him?”

  Wolfe glared at Rivers. “And what do you know about it?”

  “Only what I overheard. Something about meeting in James Park at nine o’clock.”

  “Well if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget everything you’ve heard.�
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  “Forget what?”

  Wolfe snorted. “Just make sure it stays that way.”

  It was late evening by the time Prosper turned up. Wolfe let him in and he walked straight up to Rivers and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him close enough to smell the coffee on Prosper’s breath.

  “Right, you have twenty four hours to get the hell out of town. Talk about any of this to anyone and you’re going to wish you’d never been born.”

  Rivers held his hands up in surrender. He didn’t like the haunted look on Prosper’s face. “Calm down. You’ve got it. I’m gone.”

  Prosper let him go and Rivers slumped back. “Go. Now.”

  Rivers didn’t wait to be told again. He ran out of the house, down the drive and jumped into his car that was still parked further along the road. He gunned the engine, and then sped off.

  By the time he arrived home, his mind was racing with thoughts. Prosper and Wolfe were up to something massive, of that he was sure. And now, because of it, they were chasing him out of town.

  Well fuck that. If he was being run out of town, he wanted to know why. He picked his mobile phone up and accessed the phone book, scrolling through until he found the number he required, then he pressed the call button.

  Rivers parked in the apartment block’s underground car park and rode the lift to the reception, which was a plush area with marble columns and flooring. The man on duty at the gold trimmed desk eyed him suspiciously as he walked across the foyer.

  “Can I help you?”

  Rivers leaned on the counter. “I’m here to see Joe Flowers, room 601.”

  “Name?”

  “Sam Rivers.”

  The receptionist picked up the telephone and made a call. “Sam Rivers is here to see you … yes, okay.” He replaced the receiver. “You can go up.”

  When he was given the go ahead, Rivers walked across to the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. His stomach lurched as the lift rocketed up the building, coming to a graceful stop moments later. The door slid open and Rivers stepped out and proceeded along the short hallway. When he arrived at Joe’s apartment, the door opened and he stepped inside.