The next time I see Vanessa, her chest is bandaged, and her eyes are vacant. We’re seated in a small room with a clear glass wall separating us. A man in a white coat stands to my right. He explains that it’s his lab assistant I see sitting with Vanessa. I watch the two of them until Vanessa’s eyes meet mine. I don’t know what I was expecting—a smile maybe, the finger, I don’t know. But definitely something more along the lines of our first encounter. What I got was indifference. So not even close.

“Is she all right?”

He assures me Vanessa is fine.

The first lesson in The Good Book—that is literally what it is called—is: Seek mastery in all areas. The man in the lab coat opens to it, and points. “That’s our ethos,” he says. “Mastery.”

I watch as his assistant places wires on Vanessa’s arms.

“That’s the lesson we are focusing on today.”

“What’s the difference between The Good Book and the agreement?”

He cocks his head. “You don’t know?”

I could lie. But I’m hungry, and it feels like too much effort. “I want to make sure.”

“The agreement is a part of The Good Book. It’s an admission saying you adhere to it.”

“Right.”

“Any other questions before we get started?”

“Can she hear you in there?”

“Same as you can.” He reaches out to shake my hand. “I’m Dr. Mueller.”

I don’t introduce myself. I take it he knows who I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Instead, I stare at the switchboard in front of me. I count thirty buttons.

“Shock therapy,” he tells me.

“Seriously?” I could be in a movie. I could be in a book. I could be anywhere. All my life, I wanted it to be interesting, and now it is.

“That there,” he motions, “is a shock generator. Each switch,” he points to them one by one, “renders anywhere from 10 to 50 milliamps.”

I lean forward and touch one of the switches lightly. “Does it hurt?”

“On the low end, not so much. On the high end…well, it’s no picnic.”

I glance at Vanessa. She doesn’t look at me.

“We’re going to work on mastering our emotions this morning.”

I decide right now might not be the best time to tell him I don’t have emotions.

“I understand Mrs. Bolton stole from you.”

I shrug.

“Well,” he says. “Did she or did she not?” Dr. Mueller gives me the once-over, as though he’s accessing my intelligence. “It’s a very simple question, Mrs. Anderson. We only make things complicated with our answers.”

“She did.”

“And you lied.”

I press my lips together. Guilty people hate it when accusations are thrown around. We're wrong often enough to know when we aren't, and often enough to know how little it matters. You screw up enough and everyone just assumes you've screwed up again because that’s who you are.

Of course, his accusation is correct. What bothers me is it wasn’t that I lied to save my roommate. That’s what he’s thinking. I just never cared for smoothies. I’ve never understood why anyone wants to drink their calories? Of course, this was before I understood what true hunger felt like. Now, I know better. Now, I know what leads to such nonsense. Starvation. It’s a gnawing, awful feeling. It’s like something invisible trying to tear its way out of you. And until you feed that something, the clawing never stops.

Whatever. They can starve me all they want. But I will not let them break me. I will play their games for as long as it takes. I will play them until I learn how to win. There is simply no alternative. This is who I am.

The man in the white coat repeats his statement. “You lied, Mrs. Anderson. The question is…why?”

“I take it that’s not considered mastery?”

He huffs. “You might think you’re being cute, but that won’t help you now, not in here. And especially not with me.”

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say you understand why you’re here, and why we’re doing this.”

I glance down at the book and scan the code of honor written into the agreement.

---

---

“It’s all written,” I tell him. “That’s why I’m here.” I don’t say it’s because I was only looking for a meal ticket and failed to read the fine print. Sometimes less is more.

“Ready?”

When I nod, he rattles off instructions. “Okay,” he says. “We're going to ask Mrs. Bolton a series of questions in regard to the agreement. How this works is…if she answers correctly nothing happens, and we move on to the next question. However, if she answers incorrectly, I will signal to you, and you will press the appropriate switch that will deliver a shock. Once I signal that the shock is complete, you will then offer her the correct answer and move on to the next question.”

I study his face. He thinks I am going to argue, so I give him what he wants. “This is crazy. I'm not shocking her.”

“Would you prefer to switch places, Mrs. Anderson?”

I give his question some thought briefly. Very briefly, to be honest. I haven't studied the agreement enough. I haven’t really read the book. So to offer to switch places, even if I were an altruistic person, which I am not, would be a dumb move on my part.

On the flip side, I saw Vanessa reading, so she should be okay to answer a few questions.

Also, she really should not have taken my smoothie, whether I wanted it or not.

She has to learn. You don't get in a boat with holes.

Tears stream down Vanessa’s face. I’ve administered three shocks. It’s one of the most interesting things I’ve ever seen, watching electricity course through a person like that. I’ve asked her seven questions. There are three to go. She has missed nearly half. I think she is doing this on purpose. Why, I don’t know.

“In our code of honor, Mrs. Anderson,” Dr. Mueller says. “What is law number four?”

I repeat the question into the mic for Vanessa. Her head hangs. She mumbles something. It’s inaudible. But that doesn’t make it wrong.

I finger the switch. I’m ready to get this over with. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I feel like I could be next. “Give her a moment longer,” Dr. Mueller insists.

After several moments, he instructs me to repeat the question.

“Law number four,” I say. “What is it?”

Vanessa meets my eye. She seems to find her voice again. “I said. I. Don’t. Know.”

I wait for Dr. Mueller. When he gives the nod, I flip the switch. Vanessa shakes violently.

After several seconds that feel like forever, Dr. Mueller tells me to kill the switch. When I look up again, Vanessa is slumped over.

“Law number four,” I say, reading straight from the handbook as Dr. Mueller has instructed me to do. “Remain obedient to furthering the mission.”

The room is silent and still after that. There’s a calmness about it I’ve never felt before.

Minutes pass. It’s no time at all. I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.

“Law number seven,” I repeat after Dr. Mueller. “Please explain it.”

I wait. And wait. Vanessa appears to have lost consciousness. “She can’t answer,” I tell him. “I think she’s had enough.”

“Please continue,” Dr. Mueller insists.

“She’s just had surgery.”

“The process requires you to continue.”

“Look at her,” I say.

His eyes watch me closely. They never leave me. “It is absolutely essential that you continue.”

I administer the shock. I hate his face. I hate his brown eyes with the hazel specks. I want to make him go away.

There are screams. I’m floating above my body. Vanessa has wet herself. That I can see.

“The answer,” Dr. Mueller says. “Read her the correct answer, please.” His voice is monotone. Succinct and clear.

I sigh and read the words that are blurred on the page. Maybe I am crying, I don’t know. I hear myself speak but is it even me? “Always remain obedient to furthering the mission.”

“Final question,” Dr. Mueller announces, pulling the mic in his direction. He nods to me.

I take a deep breath in and hold it. When I can manage, I exhale slowly. Dr. Mueller motions me forward. I lean in and speak into the mic. “State law fourteen please.”

I see Vanessa’s lips move, but nothing comes out. I will the words into her mind. I plead silently with her to say them. I feel numb. I feel on the edge of something I can’t stop.

“Go ahead with the shock please,” Dr. Mueller instructs.

“She’s too tired,” I tell him, pointing. “Look, she’s mumbling.”

“Please continue with the treatment.”

I shake my head. “She has a baby.”

“You are required to continue.”

“I don’t want to.” It’s not fun anymore.

“You have no other choice but to continue.”

“You do it,” I say.

Crossing my arms, I wait him out.

When he speaks, his voice is stern. “We are not leaving this room until you complete the task.”

I look up at Vanessa. She’s passed out. I’m hungry and I’m tired. I want out of here. “Fine,” I seethe. I flick the switch. Vanessa comes to life. I’ve never seen that much agony on a person’s face.

“Enough,” Dr. Mueller says, finally. “Now, law fourteen. Give her the answer.”

I can’t look at Vanessa. Maybe I’ve killed her. I don’t want to know. I bring the mic to my mouth, and I speak slowly, so she hears it. I speak so slowly that neither of us will ever forget it again. I make sure it is drilled into my very core. “Never fear harming another with just cause.”