The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments) (3 page)

Chuck shrugged at the honesty in that comment as he walked with him. He knew that Jake only spoke like that when he was around him. And knowing that Jake was a quiet guy by choice, Chuck also knew that Jake wouldn’t select the quiet route over their dinner on this night. There were two things that topped Jake’s list of things he couldn’t take. One was being outdone in something he knew he was a master at and the second was having it done by a woman. Jake was the epitome of the feminist movement’s nightmare.

Dr. Chandler Hertz stood beside the eight millimeter projector. Its loud motor still running, the film had finished, but its tail end continued rapping against the reel with a click. He reached his hand down, turned off the motor. “Lights please,” he said. Rubbing his eyes at the sudden brightness, the forty-something doctor stood at the end of the long rectangular table and faced the eight men, all dressed in expensive suits, who sat before him.

 
“The film you just saw was the original documentary from the very first
Iso
-Stasis experiment back in 1941. As you all know, this experiment was begun during wartime to study the psychological effects of isolation on prisoners of war. The first experiment took four men into isolation for one month. They were paid a hundred dollars. The study did not produce the results expected. It was determined that the length of time was too short, so for Project Two, isolation was increased to two months.” Dr. Hertz paced from one end of the room to the other while he talked. “Still, participants weren’t shaken enough. It was a picnic for them and the compensation was an easy earn. For Project Three the experiment took on more men and moved the isolation to four months. They started to see results after the third month . . . please open your folders.”

He waited for the synchronized paper flipping sounds to end before he continued. “Three of those men folded and were removed, but five successfully made it through, with minimal side effects. That was more in the lines of what they wanted or expected to see. Now, Project Four in 1949, the last experiment under the guidance of my predecessor, was the one that clicked on the light, so to speak. It was slated to last for four months also. However, an avalanche occurred somewhere around the fourth month and these men went undiscovered, buried behind a wall of rock, for an additional three months. Only one man survived although they were all alive when the rockslide occurred. That man, Sergeant Brindle, committed suicide three months later. Our scientists and investors looked at Project Four as tragic, yet beneficial because it did provide answers to what the
Iso
-stasis experiment was meant to determine. Can man actually physically and mentally survive when faced with unprecedented odds?”

Dr. Hertz stopped at the head of the table and rested his hands upon it. “That was the question posed to me when I was brought on two years ago to begin the next project and that is why I asked all of you here today. You . . .” his hand motioned toward them, “…as investors in this project have brought a few things to my attention, a few things I have expanded on. These are stated within the sealed black envelopes all of you have before you. I’d like you to open your envelopes now and we will review. I think this is on the lines of what all of you are thinking.” Dr. Hertz picked up his own envelope. “The
Iso
-Stasis experiment has come a long way since its beginning in 1941. Gentleman, with your approval, I’d like to take the experiment even further.”

Joyce’s slow moving footsteps up the uncarpeted stairs to the attic went unnoticed. As she made the bend in the stairway she could feel the chilly air from Cal’s air conditioner. The mid-afternoon weather was pleasant and Cal really didn’t need to have the unit going full blast. But Joyce supposed the heat would eventually get up here and settle. If the heat got unbearable, then so would Cal.

Joyce didn’t want to make the trip to the attic. She wished the reason for it would never have happened. Seeing the messenger at the door on a Saturday, she had known immediately he was bringing the news she had been dreading. A sense of loss hit Joyce, an overwhelming feeling of sadness, as she carried the large manila envelope up the stairs. “Cal?” She called out softly, her voice cracking.

Cal was surprised at the tone and raised her eyes from the dresser that she was polishing with determination. “You sound weird.” She smiled at Joyce.

Joyce cleared her throat. “A . . . a messenger just showed up.” With a frown she handed the envelope to Cal. “It’s from that research institute.”

Cal was shocked as her hand reached for it. “No shit?” Excitedly she took it and sat on the bed ripping it open and dumping out the contents. She found the cover letter and read it quickly. “They want me.”

“And this is a good thing?”

“Yes it is.” Cal lifted the quarter inch bound manuscript flipping through the pages. “This is the information about all those who are going. I’m going to learn this inside and out.”

“You’re really going?” Joyce asked.

With an ‘of course’ look, Cal glanced up at her friend.

Joyce nodded her head and backed up. “Great,” she said, sounding less than enthusiastic, “just great.”

Not really paying attention to Joyce’s demeanor, Cal continued to sift through the contents of the folder.

^^^^

With ease Jake hurled himself over the ten foot wall of the obstacle course. There was no hesitation as he landed and sped forward to the end of the course. Chuck clicked his stop watch as Jake passed.

Clad in a sleeveless sweatshirt and shorts, both drenched with his sweat, Jake made his way back to Chuck and checked out his time.

“Damn it!” he made a pivot and an irritated stomp. “Sergeant Owens still has me by a second and a half.”

“The nerve of him,” Chuck said sarcastically. “But remember, Jake, Owens also has you by a good ten years. I believe he’s only twenty-six.”

“Fuck that. I don’t care.” Ready to try it again, Jake stopped when he saw a corporal approaching, actually running their way.

They hid their amusement as the corporal tried to look official, attempt to catch his breath, and salute the two officers all at the same time. He received the signature ‘at ease’ nod from Jake, and then after a quick wheeze and a hand to his chest spoke. “Major Graison, sir. Colonel Roberts needs to see you in his office ASAP.”

Jake looked down to his watch. “Let me change and I’ll meet the Colonel in his office in fifteen.”

“Sir, Colonel Roberts needs you there stat. He said he expects you as you are.”

Jake shrugged. “All right, let me grab my gear and I’ll head over.”

“Thank you, sir.” The Corporal stepped back, gave a firm salute and trudged quickly away.

Not really knowing what Colonel Roberts wanted, and not really caring, Jake knew he still had to go. He retrieved his things and headed to base.

The Corporal opened the Colonel’s office door for Major Graison. “Colonel Roberts. Major Graison, as you requested, sir.”

Colonel Roberts peered up from his desk. “Thank you, Corporal. That’ll be all.”

Jake stepped into the room, snapping to attention as he did. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

“At ease,” Colonel Roberts said and motioned with his hand. “Shut the door, Major.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake leaned back pushing it closed.

“This is between you and me, Jake, man to man. Have a seat.” Colonel Roberts pointed to the chair across from him.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked as he sat down.

“Son, I pull up to my house this morning after a great round of golf, shot an eighty-four, pretty good game. I’m not even at my front door when a messenger arrives with this.” Colonel Roberts pulled out the envelope. “It was addressed to me as your CO; it’s your orders, son. You have been selected to participate in that research project.” He handed the envelope to Jake.
 
“All of your arrangements are in there. But that is not why I wanted you to close that door. I want to talk to you about this. I would like you to consider changing your mind.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Jake said and tapped the folder against his leg.

“Jake, I remember when you joined this man’s army. You were a skinny kid, acne all over your face. Remember that?”

Jake cleared his throat. “My enlistment has always been fresh in my mind. Thank you very much for reminding me of my acne problem.”

Colonel Roberts chuckled. “Getting back to what I was saying. You’ve made us proud a hundred times over. Something smells foul about this. Now, against my superior’s wishes I’ve tried diligently to see what I could find out about this project. The Pentagon has sealed its copies and everything is classified. I don’t trust it, Jake. Not for one minute.”

“It’s an experiment, sir, like every other one I’ve participated in.”

“Yes, I understand that. But goddamn it, I can walk in and find out any of those results. I can’t find squat out about this one. That bothers me. Sending my finest into a situation that I’m not clear on, that bothers me.”

“I can’t back out, sir. I’ve agreed to go if selected.”

Colonel Roberts leaned back in his chair. “I can’t change your mind?”

“Short of ordering me not to go . . . no you can’t, sir.”

“I can’t do that.” Shaking his head Colonel Roberts leaned forward. “Just make me a promise. If there is trouble, you will do everything in your power to get in touch with us here. Got that?”

“I got that.” Jake gave the Colonel an odd look. “I understand and appreciate your concern. But it’s a mental endurance experiment, that’s all. The only thing that could happen to me is that I could break. And I guarantee you, sir, I will not break.”

^^^^

“Can you give that back to me?” Cal reached out her hand, fingers wiggling toward Joyce’s boyfriend, Pete. He sat legs crossed on the couch. In his hand he peered at the manuscript that contained the information about the participants. “Come on, Pete, you’re bending the cover.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal, Cal. It needs to be bent.” Pete looked up at her through the tops of his bi-focal glasses. “Bent from being read, read thoroughly.” He returned to the pages.

Cal stared at him, arms crossed. Pete looked so much like the attorney that he was, sitting there smug, in his white shirt, open tie, brown pants, his pot belly hanging over a belt that seemed to be pulled in one notch too many.

Pete picked up his glass, took a small sip of his bourbon—his beverage of choice-—and straightened his position on the couch. “Cal, I promised Joyce I would review this . . . this participant information mumbo jumbo shit.”

“I am an adult woman capable of making my own choices, Pete.”

“Are you?” Pete stood up from the couch. “I mean, are you actually in the right frame of mind to be deciding on whether or not . . .”

“Don’t!” Cal held up her hand. “Don’t even give me shit about my right frame of mind. I passed all of their psychological tests.”

“Yes, you did, but to
their
specifications.” Pete nodded.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cal’s voice had risen in anger, and then she turned her stare to Joyce. “And you . . . you stand there huddling in the corner, did you tell him to get on me like this?”

Joyce shook her head. “No. I told him to look at the stuff. Whether you like him or not, he’s rational, listen to what he’s saying.”

Cal shook her head. “There’s nothing either of you are going to say that’s going to be a news flash to me. No one will change my mind.”

Holding the manuscript outward, Pete moved to her. “Have you read this? Really read this?”

“Yes, and I intended on reading it more.”

“And you don’t see it?” Ignoring Cal’s huffs of irritation, Peter pointed to the manuscript as he spoke. “You question my judging you. You say you passed their tests. OK, what were the standards set as the determination factor for pass or fail? Did they mention that?”

“My God, Pete!” Cal faced him. “This is not some shoddy operation. It pays well. It’s been done before.”

“Listen to me. I know I’ve joked with you, but I am being very serious right now. Look at these people. A woman who is in so much debt she faces prison charges for bouncing checks. A sniveling twenty-three year old straight from Harvard says he’s a self-proclaimed journalist. You have a Brooklyn musician without a high school diploma, who works menial jobs. A Roman Catholic Priest who was almost excommunicated because three years ago he was caught in a homosexual affair with a waiter . . .”

“Where are you going with this?” Cal interrupted.

“I’m not done.” Pete followed her with the manuscript. “Another is a retired firefighter. Retired? He’s only forty-two years old? An eighteen year old boy who states right here the highest paying job he’s had was a McDonald’s fry boy. What are his mental qualifications? The worst though is the trained killer. They chose a trained killer?”

“Who do you mean, that Major? He’s a Ranger,” Cal said sarcastically.

“He’s a trained killer and he trains people to kill.” Pete closed the book and slapped it on his hand. “Now . . .” He took a deep breath. “They gave all of you these psychiatric tests. Do you really truly think that all of you scored impeccably high? That somehow all of you are on the same level? This woman with all the debt, you think she’s the same as you?”

“No, but do you actually think I believed that they were going to have us all be equals?”

“Yes, I did. How else do they expect you all to make it? This is proof, Cal, proof.” He held it up to her. “They’re up to something. Now you and I don’t see eye to eye. If you want to go, it is fine with me, but it’s not fine with Joyce. She loves you. She’s worried. Can’t you see that they are going to pit all of you against each other up there? That’s how they’re going to get their results.”

Cal gave a sarcastic laugh as she snatched back her manuscript. “Do you think I’m that stupid? It’s a hundred grand. Of course there are going to be weak people. People that break first, people they don’t have to pay. I’m not one of them. I’m strong enough to pull through this. I need this. And if they want to make me work for my hundred grand, so be it. What do I have to lose?” She headed towards the steps.

Joyce reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her. “What about your life?”

Closing her eyes, Cal tilted her head slowly. “I lost my life seven months ago. I’m on borrowed time.” She pulled her hand away and walked up the stairs.

^^^^

Jake took a slow bite out of an apple as he relaxed on his bed, back propped up feet extended. His manuscript was on his lap, a red marker in his hand. “Two women,” Jake said to himself. “I know you are one of them. Are you the indebted sales clerk? The one with no education and refer to yourself as a self-proclaimed fashion addict.” Jake laughed and shook his head. “Nah, Jennifer, you aren’t her. It must be . . .” he flipped the page, “…
Caleen
Reynolds A.K.A.
Caleen
Lambert. Yep . . . it’s you. School teacher…science, expected…Military upbringing…Continuing education in psychology . . . which you stopped.” Jake lifted the page closer to his eyes. “Oh shit.” He saw the reason for her discontinued attempt at furthering her education. He saw her tragedy. “So this is why you dropped off the earth.” With his red marker he circled her name. “So you’re the one who topped me.” He laid down the marker. “Well, since there’s no picture, this background should make you easy to spot. But that’s enough about of you.” Jake flipped to the next page. “Carlos
Valenz
. A musician?” Slowly shaking his head, he took another bite of his apple and continued learning about the others.