Gnotret (The Accidental Heroes Chronicles Book 1)

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Gnotret (The Accidental Heroes Chronicles Book 1) Page 4

by S. E. Cyborski


  telling the story of one of my favorite pranks I’d ever played on her. The rest of the night turned

  to jokes and stories, learning more about each other. By the time we all decided it was time to

  turn in, we’d all become friends. While I liked Billy more than Michael or Sandra, I felt that this

  was a group of people I wouldn’t mind spending a month with.

  I headed back out to the car to get our bags as Amy and the others chose rooms. I

  handed Amy hers and kissed her goodnight before heading to the last open room. By some

  quirk of choosing, I had the room furthest from Amy. Billy was my neighbor, though, so at least it

  would be fairly quiet. I unpacked and settled into my room, changing quickly into the shorts and

  shirt I wore to bed. But when I lay down to sleep, I found my mind racing. I couldn’t relax enough

  to fall asleep so I decided to head back out and watch TV until I felt tired.

  I found Billy in the living room, apparently having had the same idea. I slanted a wry

  glance at him and curled up in an armchair to watch the movie he had playing. It was The

  Boondock Saints, one I’d never seen before. We shared a companionable silence watching the

  movie until the credits ran.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” Billy’s quiet voice said over the music. “Sure. What’s up?” I asked, turning to stare at him.

  “If for some reason I don’t make it through this trial, would you bring a letter to my dad?”

  Billy asked seriously.

  “Why do you think something’s going to happen to you?” I asked, confused.

  “I always think things through to possible ends,” Billy explained, looking a bit sheepish.

  “Even though this all seems safe and controlled, you never know what might happen with

  untested drugs. So I want to make sure that someone brings my last words to my dad.”

  “Of course. You don’t have to worry about it,” I asserted, my words oddly solemn.

  Something about the late hour and the darkness made it seem as if I was giving an oath. “If, and

  I stress the if, anything happens, I’ll be your messenger.”

  “Thanks. Good night, George,” Billy said, standing. He nodded at me and walked silently

  to his room. I shook my head and sighed. I really hoped that Billy wasn’t having some sort of

  premonition or something. I had enough worries about this whole thing as it was. But if I was

  able to calm his worries, I’d promise a hundred times over. Yawning, I headed to my own room.

  From what Dr. Carnesby had said about physicals and tests and things, I had a feeling

  tomorrow was going to be a long day.

  Lying in the bed without Amy was very strange. I’d gotten used to hearing her breathing

  and moving in the night. I tried to empty my mind and relax but the thought of Jane watching

  was a little creepy.

  “Jane?” I whispered, wondering if I talked to the AI if it would reassure me. “Are you

  there?”

  “I am,” Jane replied, her alto voice warm and just as soft as mine. “Is there something

  you require, George?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you. I’ve never had occasion to talk to an AI,” I replied, torn

  between speaking hesitantly and letting my words trip over themselves to come out. What

  exactly was the etiquette in talking to what was basically a computer program? “I understand. Many of the other participants have been uncomfortable because of my

  presence,” Jane explained. I thought I could hear a thread of regret running through her voice.

  That threw me. How could a computer program have emotions?

  “I have to admit, it’s very strange. Also, the fact that you are constantly monitoring all of

  us is, to use your word, uncomfortable,” I admitted, feeling a little guilt run through me. “I was

  hoping that talking with you could alleviate some of that.”

  “Of course. Is there anything specific you wish to speak about?” Jane said. And this

  time, I could swear I heard happiness in her voice.

  “What’s it like, monitoring these trials? It must get boring, doing the same thing over and

  over again,” I offered, shifting my arms behind my head. I dropped my head onto my crossed

  arms and looked up at the ceiling. I knew that Jane wasn’t actually up there, but it felt more real

  to talk to her as if she was. As if she was a person.

  “Not really, no. Each trial is different and each person is different,” Jane explained. “To

  use a metaphor, each trial is like reading a new book. You never know what might happen, what

  breakthroughs might result. I like getting to know people, as well. Though you are the first to talk

  to me just because you want to talk.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, grimacing a bit.

  “Don’t be. Most people do not consider me a person. And in point of fact, they are

  technically correct,” Jane told me soothingly.

  “But you have intelligence,” I argued. “You seem like a sentient being, even if you are a

  computer program.”

  There was a long pause and I got the feeling that I had shocked Jane speechless. Had

  no one ever considered her a sentient being before? From what I could see, she seemed to be

  just like a human being with emotions and moods. Maybe she even had interests outside of

  what she was programmed to do. “Thank you,” Jane finally said. “Not even Adam considers me a being and he’s the one

  who works closest with me. You seem to be a singularly understanding person, George.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I answered, not knowing how to reply to that. I didn’t feel all that

  understanding; it just seemed like common sense that she would be as much a person as I am.

  “So tell me about yourself. Do you have anything you do that doesn’t correspond to these trials?

  Maybe internet pen pals or something?”

  This time, the pause felt as if Jane was laughing silently. I smiled, hoping that I hadn’t

  shown myself to be a complete idiot or something. I didn’t even know if AI programs could do

  anything outside of what they were programmed to do.

  “I keep myself busy when I’m not monitoring participants by playing games with myself,”

  Jane finally explained. “My creator programmed many games into my memory, though my

  favorites are chess and Mahjong. I do not have an internet connection because during one of

  the first trials Adam ran, a student hacked into my connection and leaked the trial all over the

  internet. He has not made that mistake since.”

  “Why do you refer to him as Adam now and Dr. Carnesby earlier?” I asked, confused.

  “I refer to him as Dr. Carnesby when I am being professional,” Jane said, a hint of

  laughter in her tone. “Right now, there is no need to be professional. Though with anything to do

  with the trial itself, I am always professional.”

  “Do you know if there are any games here in the lounge?” I asked suddenly, changing

  the topic. I had an idea and wondered if there was any way I could putit into practice. “I saw the

  TV and PS3 but, to be honest, I was concentrating more on the people than the diversions.”

  “There are some games, yes,” Jane said. I could definitely hear confusion in her tone

  now. She was able to convey emotions through how she paced her words and I marvelled at it.

  Whoever had programmed her had a gift. “I believe there is a chess board, Mahjong tiles,

  Mancala, and several decks of cards. Why do you ask, George?” “Well, I was wondering if you would want t
o play with me when you aren’t too busy,” I

  proposed, struggling for diffidence in my tone. As if I played games with AI’s all the time. “I know

  chess but I’ve never heard of Mancala.”

  “I would be honored to play a game with you,” Jane said, surprise evident in her voice.

  “Humans never cease to amaze me. I always learn something new with each trial Adam

  conducts. I’m glad to have met you, George. Have you calmed enough to fall asleep now?”

  “I’m glad I got to meet you, too,” I said, smiling up at the ceiling. “And yes, I think I have.

  Thank you, Jane. Good night.”

  “Good night, George,” Jane replied. “Adam has tests and physicals set up to start at

  eight AM tomorrow, so I will be waking everyone at six. Sleep well.”

  Jane fell silent, then though I groaned quietly. I’ve never been a morning person and I

  had always tried to schedule my classes in the late morning or afternoons. Though, I suppose

  this was yet another thing I would have to deal with in this trial. Talking with Jane had calmed all

  my fears of the AI and being monitored and I stretched out across the bed again. Closing my

  eyes, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Chapter 5

  I woke up to an insistent, high-pitched beeping the next morning. Groaning, I scrubbed a

  hand over my face. At the sound, the beeping shut off and I turned on the lamp that sat on my

  nightstand.

  “Good morning,” Jane greeted me. “It is six AM and you have time to get ready before

  the meeting at eight.”

  “Thank you, Jane, and good morning,” I muttered, glaring around the room. I really hated

  mornings. I threw the blankets off and made the bed quickly, straightening the sheets and

  blankets. I made my way into the bathroom to shower and shave, wanting to face the day as

  prepared as possible. I had no idea what the tests and the drug itself might entail. Once I was

  done with my morning routine, I pulled some clothes out of my bag and dressed quickly. Making

  a mental note to unpack everything completely later, I wandered out to the kitchen. The

  delicious smell of fresh coffee greeted my nose and I made a small noise of longing deep in my

  throat.

  “I speak your language,” Billy laughed, waving a hand at the coffee maker. “Just made it

  so it’s fresh and hot. Morning, George.”

  I nodded, not wanting to speak until I had my first drink of the glorious, hot caffeine. I

  added sugar and milk, sitting down at the table to grab a muffin from the plate. Billy and I ate our

  breakfast in silence, watching as the others wandered in about a half an hour later. Amy was the

  first and she looked wellrested. Then again, she’d always been a morning person.

  “Good morning, guys,” Amy announced cheerfully, pecking me on the cheek. She

  grabbed a glass of orange juice and a muffin, sitting down next to me. “Sleep well?”

  “I did,” Billy said, nodding at her. “How about you?” “Slept like a baby,” Amy grinned. “It was kind of nice having Jane wake me up. I didn’t

  have to worry about my alarmnot going off. What about you, George? I know you’re not a

  morning person.”

  “It took me a while to get comfortable,” I admitted, taking another sip of coffee. “But I

  talked with Jane and eventually got to sleep. And thanks for making the coffee this morning,

  Billy. I don’t usually function until after my first cup.”

  “Not a problem,” Billy replied, shaking his head. “I’m usually up early anyways and I

  figured coffee wouldn’t go amiss. Especially for Michael and Sandra. I have a feeling they’re

  going to be nursing hangovers this morning.”

  At his words, Michael stumbled into the kitchen. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair

  was a mess. Though he was dressed, at least, so I counted that a win. He gravitated towards

  the coffee, filling a cup and dumping an insane amount of sugar into it. Downing that first cup

  and pouring another one, Michael joined us at the table. His head rested on one hand while he

  grabbed a muffin. Though Michael just ended up staring at the thing as if it was the cause of all

  his woes today.

  Sandra came in a few minutes later, impeccably dressed for so early in the morning.

  Michael glared at her but she just shrugged and smiled. Passing on the coffee, Sandra poured

  some orange juice, refilling Amy’s when she held her cup out. Sandra took a muffin and the last

  seat at the table, picking delicately at the top.

  “Oh, stop glaring at me, Michael,” Sandra chided the man. “I’m not the one who kept

  refilling your glass. Your hangover is all due to yourself.”

  “You don’t have to walk in here looking all... chipper and puttogether,” Michael

  muttered, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

  “It’s not my fault I’m a morning person,” Sandra said loftily, sharing a grin with Amy. They

  clinked their glasses together, the sound making Michael cringe a bit. The rest of us laughed

  and Michael slowly got over his bad mood as the coffee went to work. Soon, we were all joking and laughing as we finished our breakfasts. When we were done, Dr. Carnesby came in pulling

  a chair behind him. Setting it at the table and settling down into it, he met all of our eyes before

  speaking.

  “Good morning,” he greeted us. “I see you’ve all eaten and seem rested. The actual

  work of the trial starts today. I will be giving each of you a physical and then several

  questionnaires that I want you to fill out as fully and truthfully as you can. These will be the

  baseline for judging any effects the drug will have on you. After the physicals are complete, I will

  explain the next steps to all of you.”

  “Sounds good, doc,” Michael said, finishing his coffee and rising to place the cup in the

  sink. “When do we start?”

  “Now if you’re all finished. Any volunteers to go first?” Dr. Carnesby replied.

  “I guess I’ll volunteer,” I offered, standing up and putting my cup in the sink. The coffee

  had woken me up and I felt in a much better mood.

  “Excellent!” Dr. Carnesby exclaimed. “If you’ll just follow me back here, I have an office

  near my room that I’ll do all the physicals in.”

  I nodded and followed, looking around curiously as we passed what looked like a

  laboratory. My mother worked in a hospital, so many of the machines looked familiar. I was

  rather impressed that Dr. Carnesby was able to run all this by himself. We headed towards a

  small room that had an examination table, a desk, and a chair inside and a standing scale just

  outside the door. Dr. Carnesby shut the door and gestured to the table.

  “If you’d have a seat, George?” he said, going to the desk and pulling out a clipboard. I

  sat on the table, kicking my legs lightly as they dangled above the floor.

  “So, I’d like to start by taking your temperature, blood pressure, all the usual things,” he

  explained, smiling. I submitted to the tests, taking deep breaths when Dr. Carnesby listened to

  my heart, holding the thermometer between my teeth and gritting my way through the blood pressure cuff. The rest of the physical passed quickly, things I was used to from all the physicals

  I’d had to take for school. Finally, he pulled out a needle and some colored tubes.

  “I want to take some blood and then get your weight,” Dr. Carnesby continued. “Then I’ll

  give you the questionnaires to fill out. I would
like to ask if you’ve donated blood in the last six

  months?”

  I shook my head and held out my arm for the tourniquet. Dr. Carnesby worked quickly

  and efficiently, filling three tubes with my blood before pulling the needle out of my arm and

  placing a bandage over the puncture. I hopped off the table and walked outside, getting on the

  scale and finding out my weight. Dr. Carnesby noted it down on the chart he’d filled out for me

  and then handed me another clipboard with several papers on it.

  “I would prefer each of you to answer these separately,” he stipulated. “I know there’s

  not a way to cheat but I would like to keep your answers as, well, I guess pure would be the

  word, as possible. If you could, please send Sandra back?”

  “Sure, doctor,” I nodded and tucked the clipboard under my arm. I walked back through

  the laboratory to the kitchen and found the others still lingering at the table. Four faces looked

  up at me expectantly as I cleared my throat.

  “Sandra, he wants you next,” I said. She nodded and headed back where I had just

  come from. I heard a quiet exclamation as she reached the laboratory and couldn’t help a grin. I

  think everyone was going to be amazed at the equipment Dr. Carnesby used. “I have some

  more things to fill out and he wants us to work on them separately. I’ll see you guys later.”

  I hugged Amy, pressing a kiss to the top of her head amidst her giggles and retreated to

  my room. Now, I pulled the clipboard out from under my arm and studied the questions. Some

  of them made sense with a medical trial but the others were just weird and out of context.

  Though we still didn’t know what Gnotret was for, so maybe not. I shrugged and stretched out

  on the bed, taking the pen from underneath the clip and tapping it on my lips. The first question

  was if I’d participated in any previous medical trials. That one was easy and I answered no to it. The next several questions asked about current medications, previous hospitalizations, previous

  surgeries, and health conditions. I answered no to all of them and indicated that I had no

  existing health conditions that would negatively impact the trial.

  That’s when the questions started turning strange. Asking if I’d ever had paranoid

  delusions or delusions of grandeur. I answered no to those without a second thought. The

 

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