A X-OVER EXPERIMENT
(A CROSS-OVER EXPERIMENT)
A Habitual Spinoff Short Story
J. M. Tompkins
Copyright ©2020 by Creativity Untamed, LLC
Cover Illustration by Rebecacovers
Typography & formatting by Typographer Creativity Untamed, LLC
Editing services provided by Darcy Werkman (AKA The Bearded Book Editor)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
A X-Over Experiment
THE HABITUAL HUMANITY SERIES HAS BEGUN
HABITUAL HUMANITY RESOURCES
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
A X-Over Experiment
(A CROSS-OVER EXPERIMENT)
It had only been three months since Stephanie started the latest phase of her project at X-Over, but already she couldn't wait to see Kane, her coworker. She felt a tingle of nerves as she climbed up the stone steps and rushed through the large glass doors. There wasn't a security guard or receptionist, but multiple tiny cameras scanned and identified each person as they entered the building. There were rumors that one entire floor of the building was dedicated to monitoring every inch of the place and had a rather brute security team. Basically, she'd been told, you don't ever want to cross the line. Stephanie wasn't sure what that line was, but she couldn't imagine a good girl from Iowa would find it anyway.
The foyer of the one-hundred-story building in New York City included multiple brown-leather sofas all facing one another, conversation style—a reminder that teamwork was encouraged by X-Over from the moment anyone entered. She didn't even bother glancing down at The Starry Night replica painted on the floor as she hurried toward the elevators. When she'd been interviewed a year earlier, she couldn't believe she could potentially work at a company that had enough money to walk on art.
As usual, the elevator was crowded. The contradicting colognes were enough to wake anyone up on a Monday morning. Thankfully, there was one familiar face on the elevator: Emily from Human Resources. She had processed Stephanie's new-hire paperwork on her first day. Stephanie nodded her head to each person as she attempted to gracefully slide by to the back of the group.
"How was your weekend?" Emily asked.
Stephanie hated that question. "Same as always." And it had been. She had streamed a romantic movie to try to lift her spirits and had managed to make it to the deli to get a salad big enough to last two dinners. That'd been an accomplishment. Of course, she'd also checked in on Kane, but she wouldn’t mention that any more than she’d mention emptying a bottle of wine by herself each night. "How about you?"
"The kids had us running everywhere—soccer, ballet. I wonder what I ever did with my time before!" Emily laughed. Stephanie pondered how anyone could forget a chunk of their life, like they'd never been single or had always had a kid hanging around. Her own mother had often said similar statements, and she’d hated her for it too. It was like her mother never dreamed, never thought of anything more than being a mom.
There was a ding as the elevator opened at the tenth floor, and Stephanie excused herself to the front, squeezing between people to get there. Someone, who she didn't get to see, had to hold the door open since she didn't make it to the front fast enough.
"Thank you! Sorry!" she said as she exited, grateful to escape the crowd. She waved to Emily before heading into the corridor.
Her floor had a massive row of glass revealing a multitude of white labs. This made it easy to see the designated intelligence wall within each lab, a wall that acted as a giant computer screen within each room. Basically, as the executives strolled by, they could see the status of the on-going experiments without pausing.
Also inside the labs were tables, microscopes, cabinets, and a small desk for the scientist in charge. Each lab had a specific purpose, and given that, they also contained varying equipment to suit specific needs. Stephanie's lab included the smallest bedroom she'd ever seen. It was only big enough for a twin bed, a bedside table, and a small writing desk.
And, of course, within that tiny room would be Kane.
She'd almost made it to her lab, which was at the far end of the building, when she heard a voice calling her name.
"Good morning, Stephanie." The English accent was undeniable; it was her boss.
"Hello, Todd! How was your weekend?" It took all she had to suppress an eyeroll at her own question. It was robotic, wretched—the unavoidable obligatory conversation pattern of a Monday morning. It was a forced reveal of how awesome her personal life either was or wasn't, as if she wasn't already competing with her coworkers in every other way.
"It was good. Come in here for a sec, after you grabbed your coffee," Todd replied.
This can't be good. She didn't even get a chance to sneak a peek at Kane before she retreated in the opposite direction, past the elevators and toward the break area, which had no windows and was actually a tiny hallway that passed between the two main corridors of the floor. Every floor had the same layout, except for the fifteenth where there was a lunchroom.
Upon seeing the coffee maker, she realized she hadn’t grabbed her coffee mug, so she would have to use a Styrofoam cup. At X-Over, that was like marking oneself as a loser. It was the high-school equivalent to toilet paper being stuck to the bottom of a shoe or the college equivalent to showing up to class in the same clothes as the day before. But she couldn't keep Todd waiting, so she had no choice. When she reached for a cup, she noticed that dust had been on it for so long it'd congealed into a sticky substance. She grabbed it by the sides with two fingers, lifting it up, and retrieved the next one in line.
"Are we anti-Mother Earth today?" said a familiar voice.
Stephanie repressed an agitated breath under a fake smile as she turned toward Bill, the company's main kiss-ass. "I didn't get a chance to grab my cup," she explained. As soon as she said it, she hated herself; she didn’t want to reveal anything to Bill, ever. Asking about his weekend was certainly not going to happen. His weekend was sure to have included a dinner at the CEO's house and probably some other highly influential people she wished she hobnobbed with.
"Why not?" Bill asked, reaching across her, within her personal space, to grab the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup and didn’t even offer to pour some into hers.
Asshole. Not able to think of a lie fast enough to deliver naturally, she had to blurt out the truth. "Todd asked to see me."
"Oh!" Bill bunched up his face. "That's never good on a Monday morning."
She shrugged. "I'm sure it's nothing. We just need to catch up on things."
"How's the project going?"
Not good. Horrible, in fact. She swallowed hard. The last topic she wanted to discuss, especially with Bill, was how time was running out and was quite possibly out already. "We'll make a breakthrough any day now."
"Listen, some projects succeed and some fail. The difference, what makes a person successful here, is how you handle it." He reached across her again and returned the carafe to the burner.
"Gotcha," Stephanie replied, leaning back a little and automatically resenting any advice from Bill.
Bill raised his eyebrows as he sipped his coffee. "Remember I said that." He turned a
nd strutted away.
He'd left her the bottom of the pot. Asshole. She poured the nasty thick coffee into her cup and watched the grinds group together into a thick mass at the very end before they plopped into her cup. Sighing, she dumped the contents of her cup down the sink and tossed her earth-abominating Styrofoam into the trash. She prepared the next brew and returned to Todd's office.
Todd was staring intently at his computer when she returned. He looked up as she approached.
"Come in and take a seat." Ugh. “Take a seat” from Todd always meant "this won't be short."
"Door open or shut?" she asked.
"Shut, please."
Dammit. Shutting the door wasn't a good sign; it meant bad news was coming. Was he closing down her project? Would he fire her for not achieving the results they wanted?
Todd's office was white—whiter than white. He'd never even hung a single picture or degree. He did have an oak desk, but there was only one personal item on it: a framed picture of his family. She noticed he'd updated it with the family photo they'd used on their holiday card, which he'd handed out to his team unsigned. He and his office gave the appearance that he was ready to leave at any moment. With a single word or a simple nod, he could slip the photograph into his briefcase and be gone, as easy as that.
She sat in the chair across from him, her knees and ankles touching and her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Todd looked her up and down, stopping to focus on her hands. She folded them then, making a conscious effort to keep still and relaxed. Cool as a cucumber. He laced his own fingers and placed them on the desk, Todd's queue for "this isn't going to be easy."
"This isn't going to be easy," Todd said.
Win. You're not the only one who can psychoanalyze people.
"We're ending the project. It’s just not panning out, but I’m sure you can use the data you have to try again. We're going to need the notes, charts, and a summary of your findings wrapped up today. Tomorrow, we’ll begin interviewing for Kane’s replacement."
Her chest tightened; she wasn’t ready to give up. This would mean a failure for her, the first in her history. "I need more time. I know I can figure it out."
"Yes, I believe you can. You’re one of the best, which is why we’ve hired you. But it is time to start a new trial." He leaned forward over his desk, like a father guiding his child into the real world. "The first few projects are always the hardest. It will get easier. You are making a difference."
"But, Kane . . ." She stopped short. Was she emotional because of Kane or the work?
"We've done the best we can for him, and there are other willing participants. You’ll find a vaccine soon, I’m sure," Todd said in a soft tone.
How many employees had he gone through? Did he truly like her as a team member or simply hate the turnover and having to train someone new? The answer was clear by the unsigned holiday card; he hated training someone new. Keeping her would be so much easier than having this exact conversation again in three to four months.
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"Thank you," Todd replied in a serious tone, unraveling his fingers and returning his gaze to his computer screen. "Please send me the files by three o’clock. Then clean up the lab."
She realized that she was being dismissed, so she stood up and left his office.
Outside of her lab door, she paused. This could be the last time she would see Kane. She wasn't sure what she'd say or how he'd take it. She stood up straight, donned her surgical mask, and turned the knob.
Kane was asleep, as usual. He'd kept his bedroom door open as he always did, perhaps because a room that tiny to him would be the worst possible place to be. There was a rancid smell, and Stephanie knew that Kane had vomited in the night. She'd always thought cleaning up his vomit or feces was one of the worst parts of her job, but today the worst had a new definition: failure.
She walked to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hands had always been rough, but now his skin fell slightly from his bones because of all the weight he had lost. He didn't stir when she touched him, which was becoming more common as his condition worsened, so Stephanie went straight into her daily routine of cleaning up the vomit, taking his vitals, replenishing his IV liquids, and checking his heart. She took a deep breath; his vitals were worse.
Her morning tasks out of the way, she sat at her computer and began to take notes. On one hand, she knew her total honesty about Kane’s state was why this phase of the project was ending. On the same token, lack of honesty was a disgrace to science. Her goal was to push the boundaries to new heights and possibilities. She’d dreamed of a job like this, yearned for it. Sabotaging herself now was disrespecting all the hard work she’d done to get here. Deciding she needed a break, she left her lab to finally get that coffee. Getting up from her desk, she grabbed her coffee cup that said, "Mr. Ms. Mrs. Dr." with a check by the Dr., and headed back down the hall. She needed to think, to take a moment to accept what this Monday would bring.
Thankfully the break room was Bill-free, but the pot she’d brewed just an hour before was already empty and no one had bothered to start a fresh one. Once again, she set the coffeemaker up and pushed the brew button.
Returning to her lab, she decided not to take today's notes at all since the decision had been made anyway. She convinced herself it wouldn't make a difference.
She scrutinized her files, all sorted and already complete. Her type-A personality kept everything in order, ready to go. Right now, she'd give anything to have the distraction of something to do. She opened a new e-mail, attached her files, and wrote a brief summary. She clicked save and determined that she could send it at exactly 3 p.m. to give Kane all the time she could.
Kane stirred a little and she stood up automatically, but he didn’t wake. Perhaps that was best. She reached into the top drawer of her desk and pulled out the letter he'd given her three months earlier when they initially started the first human trial.
"For ma lil’ girl. Well, she not so lil’ anymore," he'd said. "That is, if things don' work out." At the time, she'd forced a smile, trying not to flinch when he touched her hand. He'd smelled of body odor and his hair was a matted mess. Meeting Kane was the first time she'd been so close to an outsider before.
She had always thought of outsiders as disgusting people without goals or education. She, on the other hand, had done everything she was supposed to—she worked hard, studied harder, maintained her citizen score, and even worked out and volunteered in communities. She’d been the model citizen, and her high citizen score proved it. Outsiders weren’t. They were the opposite. Their citizens scores were low or worse: non-existent. They stole from the communities without giving back. Most even lived off the grid—a place Stephanie couldn’t imagine venturing into. It was violent and dangerous, especially for women. It had no government or police force to help protect the innocent. When she’d learned she’d have to work with an outsider, she’d been appalled. But Todd had explained that they were perfect for human trials, so she’d agreed.
But still, she’d been terrified to meet Kane. Would he be violent? Would he hate women? What would she do if he hated her?
During the interview, his smell had filled the room, causing Stephanie to cough uncomfortably. His duffel bag with his life's belongings was in the corner of the room because he could never be far from it. It was then that Stephanie had to ask him the questions that would qualify him for the so-called job.
"Do you have a life-threatening disease? Do you want to give back to society? Who is your emergency contact?" These questions actually meant, Are you healthy enough to handle what I'm about to do to you? Are you willing to die? Will anyone report you if you go missing?
What had Kane thought of her that first day, when he'd walked past the front of a shiny, expensive, downtown building and into the dank basement garage level? Like all the outsiders, Kane had been recruited by word of mouth that there was good money there. Outsiders had been used by X-Ov
er for a while, but after the cleansing began, more and more kept showing up each morning to be taken in by the giant corporation. Kane had stood and waited in a group made up of the homeless, addicts, and those lost in the world.
Kristen, the Senior Vice President, had been the one to make the initial speech that day, making sure to hint at, but not obviously state, that there were prominent risks. Seventy percent of the group had started to walk out, but then the army had showed up while completing a cleansing sweep.
The government had recently launched a new initiative, the Cleansing, to remove all outsiders from the New York live-work community. It had been a coincidence that the army had showed up right at that time, as X-Over had not revealed this project to them. But it had worked in X-Over’s favor. That day, every outsider had chosen to stay because agreeing to work with the giant company was the only way for them to stay inside of New York City, further solidifying Stephanie’s fears of what it was like off the grid. Even outsiders didn’t want to be there.
After the outsiders had agreed to stay, the individual interviews began. Each candidate was ushered into a tiny room to be interviewed by team managers. Todd, as Stephanie’s team manager, focused his interviews on finding personalities that would complement the experiments. That meant he was choosing the most passive, therefore the least hostile, of the group. Then came the final interview, the introduction to the project lead. This was when Kane was introduced to Stephanie.
She'd worn a white button-up blouse, a blue pencil skirt, and flats—not without her lab coat, of course, which was her favorite fashion piece. She'd folded her hands in front of her and had her hair in a bun. She couldn't remember the last time her hair wasn't in a bun. She imagined Kane had thought, What a prude, or, She lives even less than I do.
The candidates would receive fifty thousand dollars for their participation. Most of the participants would never cash the check due to unfortunate circumstances—win-win for X-Over. Kane had chosen to leave the money to his daughter. His check was folded within the letter Stephanie held, already endorsed.
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