The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments)

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Can it wait? I want to hop in the shower.”

  “Just for a second,” she said and turned from the bathroom and walked back in her room. She waited until he stepped out. “Look.” Cal held her hand out toward the bed.

  “Whoa.” Jake rested his hand on top of his head. “What a mess.”

  “Jake.” Cal turned her head to him. “Did you do this?” she asked softly.

  “Um . . .” He shook his head. “No, Cal. I didn’t. Are you mad about it?”

  “Not at all. Why would I be mad? I would probably say it’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.” Cal said stepping to him. “If you didn’t do this, who do you think did?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Jake mustered up a clueless look. “Don’t know.”

  “It wasn’t you?”

  “Nope. It’s a kind of mushy thing to do.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “Not my style. I’m uh . . . going to take a shower now.”

  “All right,” Cal said and smiled at him, not believing him for a second, knowing he was copping out. “Jake?” She looked at the bed. “If Rickie gave Jennifer a bouquet just to get laid, whoever did this must be trying to secure a bed spot for the entire experiment, don’t you think?”

  “Nah.” Jake opened the bathroom door again and walked in. He slowed down before closing it, turned around and looked back out into Cal’s room. He gripped the side of the door as he peered at her. “Cal . . . perhaps whoever did this . . .” he head motioned to the bed, “perhaps they did it, because, just because . . . they like you.” After a soft tap with his palm on the edge of the door, Jake closed it quietly.

  The Holding Event - Caldwell Research Institute, Atlanta, GA

  August 9 - 2:00 P.M.

  In a single file line, stopping only briefly at the door to show the guard their identification, the investors walked in one by one. Different shapes, sizes, ages. Not all of them gave the appearance of having the money needed in order to be in attendance at the event.

  He called himself Aldo, no last names were ever made known early in the experiment. Maybe it was a matter of trust, but within a month all of the investors would know each other very well.

  Aldo entered first. He wore a flashy work-out suit with its zipper jacket half open to reveal several heavy gold chains almost buried by the thick, curly black hair covering his chest. He was a big man, not so much in height, but in build, and he jingled as he walked over to shake hands with an uptight Dr. Jefferson. “Here we are again. How do you think it will fare this time?” Aldo asked.

  Dr. Jefferson looked into Aldo’s dark brown eyes and at the wrinkles that became predominant when he smiled. “I’m hoping it will be very good. We’ve got five new faces this year.”

  Aldo watched the other seven men walk in. He ran his fingers down his thick black mustache. “The new ones are always hopeful. But what is it that they say, third time’s the charm? This is my third time.” He held up his small sealed blue envelope no larger than a business card and held it briefly to his lips. “I made sure I picked first this year.”

  “Does it ever make a difference?” Dr. Jefferson smiled.

  “Never does.” Aldo looked at the monitor wall where the screens were hidden. His eager anticipation of their opening was apparent. Leaning close to Dr. Jefferson and lowering his voice in secrecy, he asked, “So . . . how’s the uh . . . inside betting poll with the observers? You know I loved participating in that last time. Started yet?”

  “Yes, first day. You need to speak with Barb; she has the cork board put away. They have a few different categories started, some very weird ones.” Dr. Jefferson nodded.

  “I’ll do that. I want to go speak to the investors I remember from the last two and claim my spot at the table. Are we going to start soon?”

  Dr. Jefferson glanced at his watch. “We will, very shortly. If you want to look at your information, we’ve included notes from the first week. But . . . not much has happened.”

  “It’s early.” With a pat to Dr. Jefferson’s back, Aldo stepped back and moved toward the other two investors.

  Ivan recognized Aldo right away as he approached him and Douglass. How could he not? Ivan very vividly recalled his first impression of Aldo years before. He smelled of cigarettes and looked like a two-bit thug off the street. Ivan referred to him as ‘the wop’ for the first three months until he realized that Aldo was the richest of the investors his money made in casino action and undisclosed businesses. Aldo did throw business Ivan’s way which Ivan didn’t mind. His three plastic surgery offices were state of the art, compliments of gifts from Aldo. So Ivan smiled broadly, showing the proper courtesy when Aldo approached.

  Douglass, on the other hand, standing side by side with Ivan, didn’t care much for Aldo. He merely tolerated his dry sense of humor, but Douglass did enjoy Aldo’s enthusiasm Aldo during the experiments. It made the dry times seem a lot less dull.

  Aldo held up his blue envelope. “Are you ready gentleman?”

  Ivan held his up and like Aldo’s, his remained unopened. “Very much so. I see our newest additions look puzzled at what’s in these little blue things.”

  “They should wait,” Aldo said. “But did we?”

  Douglass’ envelope was semi-folded in his pocket, perhaps out of nervousness from holding it in his sweaty hand. Though this was the fourth experiment the Texas oilman had invested in, he was always nervous at the beginning. “Heck, I’m even afraid to open it when it’s time.”

  As the three men, acting more like old high school chums instead of the business enemies they were, made their way toward Barb, Dr. Jefferson called for attention. The event they awaited with much anticipation, the experiment, was about to begin.

  I-S.E. Twelve - Seal River Complex, Manitoba, Canada

  August 9 - 2:35 P.M.

  “Whoever designed these shelves . . .” Cal grunted as she spoke, climbing up on to the counter top, “didn’t take into account short people.”

  “Easy.” Carlos held up his hand to safe guard as he stood behind her. “You want me to look for you?”

  “No, I got it.” Cal caught her balance. “I want to have everything ready for later.” She tilted her head back looking down at him, “Just make sure I don’t fall.” She looked back into the cupboard “Here, this will work.” She dropped two boxes of pasta down and turned around.

  “Let me help you down.” Carlos reached up and put his hands around her waist, lifted her up and brought her down to the floor. “Cal? Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Cal visually checked out the items she had selected.

  “Why doesn’t Jake want you to be around me? He seems to want to corner the market on your attention.”

  “He does?” Cal shrugged. “He didn’t say anything about not wanting me to be around you.”

  “It’s easy to see. I mean, I’m not doing anything but trying to be nice, you know. But, every time I make a suggestion that you and I to do something, he’s there. He’s always there.”

  Cal slowly turned around to face Carlos. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t really noticed he did that.

  “I’m just . . .” Carlos tossed his hands up, “…I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  “We have seven months.” She smiled at him.

  “But wouldn’t it be better to start to get to know you now? I mean, really wouldn’t it be odd, five months from now, after all that time in isolation, to find out you harbor a secret passion for fuchsia?”

  “Oh, my God!” Cal chuckled.

  “What?”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t.” Carlos started to laugh and then paused a moment. “Really?” he asked with a tilted head and innocent look.

  Cal caught herself staring at him and quickly shook her head. “God, you look so much like David. I’m sorry to stare.”

  “Anything that works to my advantage is fine. What about tonight? We can sit, talk . . .” Carlos turned his head to the loud sound of some
one clearing his throat and saw Jake walking in. “See what I mean?”

  Jake said nothing. He walked up beside them, reached up in the cabinet, got a small bag of cereal and walked over to a table. Loudly, he pulled out the chair and sat down. “Your cigarette is burning away, Cal.” He reached over to the ashtray on the table.

  “Sorry.” Stepping over to the table, Cal reached out for the burning butt at the same time as Jake. “Thank you.” She put it out.

  Carlos, realizing a moment with Cal was impossible, decided it best to leave. “I’m heading out. If you want to do something . . .” he looked toward Jake, “. . . different tonight, let me know, Cal.”

  Cal’s eyes shifted between Carlos who awaited an answer and Jake who raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “I can’t Carlos. Thank you anyway.” She saw that Jake smiled. “We’re working on something.”

  “If you change your mind,” Carlos stepped back, “I’ll see you at dinner.” He nodded to Jake and walked out.

  Jake’s stare followed him out the door, and he sensed that Carlos knew it. After the room was just his and Cal’s, Jake stood spooning the cereal into his mouth. “You’re supposed to be humoring me about Carlos.”

  “I am. But what am I supposed to do? Tell the man he’s banned from hanging around me because you don’t trust him?”

  “I’ll tell him if you want.”

  “No, don’t. Why don’t we just get a hold of his book and we can clear this all up?”

  “I get a bad feeling, Cal,” Jake finished off his cereal before continuing. “I really do. Besides, we’re going to have to wait on Carlos. I’ve slated John for the first book.”

  “I don’t understand. If you’re that suspicious of Carlos, why don’t we get his first? Then we can clear this up and you won’t have to worry about my hanging . . .” her words slowed down in sudden realization. “We’ll do John first.”

  “Thank you. Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Well, I know they have the prepared meals, but I thought I’d cook. So I’m just getting things out and ready.” She turned around and leaned against the counter. “I wanted to make something I would eat.”

  “Good. I’m getting tired of seeing you pick at your food. So . . . you cook?”

  “Of course I cook. I cooked all the time for me and Jessie. Actually, I cook rather well.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that tonight.”

  “No, please don’t. I’m limited here. Wait until we get back home and then I’ll make you a dinner . . . wait, I forgot. You live in North Carolina, I live in Pennsylvania.”

  Jake fluttered his lips. “Twelve hour drive is no problem for me.”

  “You’d actually come up?” Cal asked.

  “Are you inviting me?”

  “Yes, I am.” She nodded.

  “Then I’m there.” He began to arrange all the things she had pulled out and set on the counter by size. “You ready to head back to the room?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed his hand away from her stuff and they started to leave. “Did you get the things for our building project?”

  “Yeah, and I wanted to ask you if I can I put them in your room? My room is neat. Yours has all those flowers everywhere.”

  “Not anymore. I threw them out.” She noticed he stopped walking. “Jake? Is something wrong?”

  “You threw them out?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t know who put them there. What if it was some sort of sick . . .”

  “Cal, you shouldn’t . . .”

  “I’m joking, Jake. And you can put the supplies in my room.” They started to walk again.

  “Speaking of supplies, I saw the oddest thing while I was out.”

  “What’s that?” Cal asked as they headed to the hall toward the bedrooms.

  “Loose dirt, different color, spread all around this one area.”

  Cal shrugged as she stopped at her door. “So, you found loose dirt. So what?”

  “Cal, this is serious. It wasn’t there when I was getting those, I mean, it wasn’t there earlier. It’s like someone was digging, but I couldn’t find the hole.”

  “Digging?” She snickered as they walked into the room. “Like our graves? How eerily Flowers in the Attic.”

  “Go on, make jokes.” Jake shut the door. “Obviously, you aren’t remembering paragraph fifteen ‘B’ in the agreement we signed.”

  “Obviously, I’m not. What’s paragraph fifteen?’

  “Basically, you die here, you are theirs. Your body is Caldwell property forever.”

  Cal laughed and then the smile dropped. “You’re not kidding.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows.

  Hurriedly, Cal opened the second drawer of her desk. “I have it . . . here” She pulled out a stapled document. “Paragraph fifteen?”

  “‘B’” Jake nodded and stepped up beside her.

  Cal flipped through the pages, let her finger skim down, and then raised her eyes to Jake. “Shit.”

  “See.” he nodded arrogantly.

  “God, Jake.” She closed the document. “It really makes you wonder. What the hell have we got ourselves into?”

  The Holding Event - Caldwell Research Institute, Atlanta, GA

  August 9 - 3:00 P.M.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to the Iso-Stasis Experiment.” Dr. Jefferson tapped the index cards he intended to use as notes against the end of the long table and stepped closer to the monitor wall. “First, I need to thank you eight gentlemen. Without you, and your investments, the experiment would not be possible. Some of you have returned from previously investing. We welcome you back . . .” Dr. Jefferson nodded to Aldo, Ivan, and Douglass. “And the rest of you, welcome aboard.”

  He inhaled with dramatics as he paced back and forth before them. “The Iso-Stasis Number Twelve. Right participants carefully selected, tested and processed have been placed together like an intricate puzzle for your benefit and ours. They assumed that they were all chosen for their mental and physical strengths. As our veteran investors know, that is not the case. All of these people are different, ranging from the very strong to the significantly weak. Should they make it the entire seven months without mentally breaking, they receive a sizable compensation. All of them know that, but none of them know the real reason for their being there. That reason being all of you.”

  Dr. Jefferson had their attention and he went with it. “Far from civilization it is a mental endurance experiment. However, if left to human nature, we would not get the results we want. So we step in. There are three simple phases to this experiment—mental stress, nature’s fury, and finally, the experiment itself . . . The Catch. Each step increases the intensity of the experiment and pushes the participant mentally and physically further.”

  Pacing, Dr. Jefferson moved slowly around the table. “We’ve ranked the participants for you, One through Eight. The lower the number, the better the chance is of their emerging. We monitor . . .” he pointed to the huge wall of monitors, “…daily, twenty-four seven. We keep track in a log which you are welcome to view any time. We provide weekly reports. Everything you need to know is in the folders before you. Now . . .” Dr. Jefferson lifted a sample small blue envelope, “…the reason for your being here. All of you picked one of these. Inside is a name. That name is the reason for the gamble you took. They are your horses in this particular race. You may open your selections.”

  Aldo pulled out his small card and peered at the name. His dislike in his selection was apparent as he pounded his fist on the table in anger. “Son of a bitch, I don’t believe it.” He shook his head. “I have a woman. A fuckin’ woman, Christ, I ought to just hang up my hat. I thought this year I’d have a good chance. What is she? Number seven, or eight?”

  “It depends, who do you have?”

  “Caleen Reynolds.” He tossed his card down, and rubbed his head. “Two million dollars, two million, and I get a woman.”

  “That’s the chance you took. You gambled Aldo.”

  “And I lo
st--again.”

  “Not yet.” Dr. Jefferson smiled. “Cal, as she likes to be called, is number two.”

  Aldo lifted his eyes over the hands that covered them. “Two? A woman is number two? A woman has never been number two.”

  “Correct.” Dr. Jefferson placed his hand behind his back. “When you read about her you’ll know why. She is very strong willed and physical. She’s a good one. Besides, there is something special about Cal. I think all of you will find this interesting. Please open to page four.” He heard the flipping of pages. “Though Ms. Reynolds could have made it into the experiment on her own credentials, she was a shoe in when we did a background check on her. Her maiden name is Caleen Lambert. For those who have never read the history of the Iso-Stasis, let me enlighten you. Ms. Reynolds applied without the knowledge not even the slightest inkling that her father was part of the 1970 Iso-Stasis experiment. Sergeant Lambert was headed into the winner’s slot. Never once did he break. He was one of our best. He was killed by a fellow participant three hours before the end of the project. So, knowing her genes, her background and her history, Ms. Reynolds holds the second slot.”

  Aldo clenched his fist. “Yes. I have a chance. Who’s number one?”

  “Of course you can look at the board but . . .” Dr. Jefferson peered around, “…who has Major Graison?”

  Small and meek in appearance, the balding man held up his card. “I do. I’m Stewart Marshall.”

  “You have the favorite.” Dr. Jefferson chuckled silently at the disgruntled moans. “Carlos Valenz is number three. The rest complete the order, again, check the ranking board.

  Before I get into answering anymore participant questions, for the new people,” Dr. Jefferson took a breath, “I need to explain the rules. There are none. We control what happens, but who it happens to is by lot, not by choice. There will be one winner. Never has there been more than one winner, but, if by chance there is, the pot will be split between the names of the investors who hold the names of those who walk away. Unless of course, they choose to exercise the option and in that case we will ensure one winner and one winner only.”