We're rats in a maze with electrified walls.

I say with no small amount of glee.

Guinea pigs.

Cowering under a syringe filled with tuberculosis.

Monkeys going under the knife to test brain link,

or whatever the hell that technology is called.

The guy in the two large orange jumpsuit standing next to me

shivers as I talk to him.

We're standing outside the fence surrounding a crumbling Gothic insane asylum from back when those were still a thing.

Fog floats around, reducing the afternoon sunlight to a weak parody of itself.

Thick walls of pine tree stand half obscured by the fog, like Homer's Simpson disappearing

into the hedge from that one meme famous episode.

Behind us, two other suckers wearing orange jumpsuits stand transfixed by the imposing structure. A couple of heavily armed guards stand watch,

making sure we don't flee,

while the scientists take their sweet-ass time getting their shit together

at the vehicles arrayed behind us.

God damn scientists.

The shivering guy to my left must be in his early 20s,

and I briefly wonder what kind of messed up shit he had to do to end up here.

Or maybe he's innocent, I think.

The notion provokes a donkey-like laugh that brushes out of my mouth before I can think to stop it.

That happens to me a lot.

...