He knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but he had long forgotten why.

The room was the same day in and day out. The light never changed, the shadows never shifted. The world seemed to rotate around the single room, the epicenter of a world of change. A point that never moved, never strayed. 

Consistent. Dependable. Deadly.

He had forgotten what anything different really felt like. The color red had fascinated him so much the first time he saw it, a dribble down his wrist where the straightjacket had cut too tight. Could there really exist a color like red in the world,a swirling mixture of deep black and inky hues that were as vibrant and dark as the sun? If he even remembered what the sun looked like, of course. All he had to go off of it were the fluorescent bulbs that whined down at him from behind six inches of Plexiglass. Not quite a supernova.

He remembered anger, frustration, the days when he would beat at the walls and his fists would bounce back unharmed. Now those feelings had subsided to subtle normalcy, accepting that he wasn't going anywhere. He never would go anywhere, not in the world where nothing changes, where days bleed into one another. You sleep when you're tired and you stay up when you're not. You eat when you're hungry. Who knows where the food comes from - you stop caring, stop knowing.

In the blank room lined with rubber, your arms cuffed to your sides and your brain cuffed to the glaring white until you can't remember anymore, everything fades to black.

And then, of course, to white.

-0-

The file said he was a rebel, but Gil couldn't imagine how.

He had watched the man for hours, slumped against the wall. Nothing in the room moved, the very image of it burned into Gil's eyelids. Even the rise and fall of the prisoner's chest was so subtle he could barely notice it. Sometimes he couldn't tell if the man was alive at all. In fact, if the prisoner had died right there Gil probably wouldn't have noticed.

The doctor came in next, holding up a syringe with an unkind glint in his eyes. Gil stood and watched as the doctor stepped up to the window, gathering his tools beside him.

"We don't get a lot of reporters around here." He intoned, and Gil smirked.

"That's because I found my way in. Top-secret research lab buying up the dissolute and dangerous from the cops... Makes for a good story."

The doctor shrugged, a fluid and slow motion. "This man here used to be one of the sharpest in the Republic. Now look at him. Haven't seen him move since he last ate. Maybe two days ago? You can lose time so easily in here."

Gil looked around the room, but he knew what the doctor meant. Inside of the stark white room, where time blends into nothingness.

"What are you giving him?" Gil walked beside the doctor, peering through the glass at the man. The rebel.

"Sedative." The doctor intoned, fixing the syringe into a small pump. The liquid drained from the needle and a puff of smoke burst into the room before Gil's eyes, dissipating in seconds. The prisoner didn't move - which wasn't saying much, of course.

"You really think he needs more of that stuff?" Gil narrowed his eyes and the doctor shrugged again.

"I'm testing this solution over a long period of time."

"Yes, it seems to have worked very well." Gil snapped, gaze flickering back to the prisoner.

The doctor smiled lazily, his eyes as cold and blunt as steel. "I can tell you're not a man of science. You can't appreciate the data we get from these tests. This solution is my life's work! It doesn't just render the subjects useless, it makes them more malleable. They're able to be adjusted to your wishes. It's like magic."

Gil could hardly believe what he was hearing. The recorder in his pocket had better be picking up on all of this. "Sounds like slavery to me. He's a vegetable, you machine!"

The doctor didn't react, simply set the syringe back into his bag. Gil's mind was whirling a thousand miles an hour. When he was invited to the lab he had expected to uncover a dirty secret or two, but nothing like this.

A thought clicked into Gil's head and he snatched the doctor's sleeve, tugging him back. "What did you say earlier? You said 'subjects.' It renders the 'subjects' useless. That's what you said, isn't it?"

"Oh, my." The doctor feigned a gasp, all sarcasm and dry drawls. "I must have misspoken."

"I don't think you did." Gil started to pace. "Malleable, adjust to your wishes. This could have a whole host of uses, and a whole host of illegal ones at that. Using convicts as your lab rats, you perfect the formula. Who are your buyers, doctor? Governments? Terrorists? Please, every major newspaper in the Republic would love to know."

"You want your story, son? I'll tell you." The doctor's eyes flashed with cocky confidence. "You've been breathing in this stuff for years. Elections, taxes, business crashes, stock prices. We're on a trajectory for domination we've never seen before. Unemployment at an all-time low. Soon it will be nonexistant. We've made advances in medicine, science, all because of a nudge here, a push there. People are happy."

"What you call nuding I call brainwashing." Gil snapped, and the doctor rolled his eyes.

"You don't think the government's been swaying its population for decades now? For a reporter you're pretty blind."

Gil had had enough of the doctor at this point and started for the door. "Thank you for your time, doctor. You'll see your name in every paper in the country tomorrow. I've made you a celebrity. Really, you should be thanking me."

"I don't think so." The doctor replied simply, then slammed his fist into Gil's jaw. The reporter crumpled to the ground and the doctor stood over him, unable to keep a smirk from his face.

"You were admiring those cells earlier? Get used to a straightjacket."

-0-

Gil knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but he had long forgotten why...