I Was Hired To Oversee A Human Experiment In A Fake Town.

“Would you rather kill someone with a spoon or a butter knife?”

That was only one in the series of weird questions. It felt as though Doctor McDonough was assessing not my answers, but my reaction to the questions.

I didn’t like his smile. It was too wide, too… rehearsed. Like he’d done this so many times it had become a reflex. But behind the membrane of that pearly grin was something entirely different. Something unidentifiable. A personality that, in my experience, was hidden for a reason.

I didn’t really care. I was there because of the job offer and nothing else.

“Exactly how are these questions relevant to my position in the experiment?” I asked.

“They’re just here to help us get to know each other.” The doc beamed again. He must have noticed my bemuse, because he added, “Right. So, I assume you want to know more about the job itself.”

I nodded.

“The company has built a small test town in an undisclosed location in Oregon. They named it Ashfield.”

“Sounds welcoming.”

“With your expertise, you’d be head of security. Your job would be to police the town, to make sure everything goes according to plan. That means patrolling, doing head count, detaining people if they prove troublesome, stopping them from leaving without proper dismissal documents, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t have the required expertise for that. I’m not a cop.”

“You don’t have to be. Think of it as a prestigious security gig.”

Ah, of course. Companies sure loved to rename their job positions into something they thought sounded cool in order to compensate for a lack of pay and an overabundance of responsibilities.

Except, this company didn’t regurgitate the typical “we’re all family here” bullshit. This was the real deal. Even if I wasn’t drowning in debt and blacklisted by most security companies, I’d consider the offer.

“How long’s the experiment gonna be?” I asked.

“One hundred days from the moment of arrival to Ashfield.”

“What’s the purpose of this whole thing?”

“That information will not be available to you, or the test subjects. Throughout the experiment, you’ll be strictly on a need-to-know basis. When you’re inside Ashfield, there are no questions. When you’re given an order, you execute it without question. I know it sounds harsh, but we can’t risk any information getting leaked.”

“Right.”

I understood clandestine experiments harbored a lack of transparency to safeguard crucial information, but something about this whole thing bothered me. Perhaps it was the way it felt rush. Perhaps it was that fucking smile.

“I need to think it over, if it’s all the same to you.”

“How soon can you let us know?” The doctor’s voice was taut. Like he was on the verge of obtaining something out of reach.

“I don’t know. A few days.”

“Okay. Just one thing. I’m not supposed to say this, but we have candidates lined up to fill your position. Ex-military. Secret service. It’s a fierce competition.”

Someone like you can’t compete. That’s what that sentence said if you stripped it of its coating. But more than that, it betrayed the urgency in his voice. They needed someone for this position bad. My guess was he was bluffing.

“So, why not just go with them?” I asked.

“Because we did some digging into your past, and we believe, from a psychological standpoint, you’d be the perfect fit for this position. You’re assertive, but you also have empathy. When people are cooped up in a small place for a hundred days with no outside contact whatsoever, they don’t need a brute to keep reminding them what they signed up for. They need someone strong but human they can look up to. Chris, they need someone they can trust.”

His usage of my first name felt like a violation. Like a cheap attempt to make the communication less formal.

“But I also know flattery is pointless with you. That’s why the company is willing to throw in a little bonus.” McDonough pulled out a drawer and tossed a paper in front of me.

I glanced at the staggering numbers. Christ. It’s not a matter of whether someone is for sale, but what their price tag says—and mine was well below the five digits indicated in the document.

“Finish the experiment, and you won’t have to work for a long time.” The doctor flashed his PR smile.

 

 

*****

 

 

My transport was arranged by the company. Three separate flights, a bus and a van ride later, I was in Ashfield.

Doctor McDonough had said the company had built the town just recently, so I had expected dirt roads, prop houses, and mannequins on porches mimicking the population. It seemed that I vastly underestimated the company’s resources, because this place felt as real as any other town in America.

 The only thing that gave away its artificial existence was the tall walls surrounding the town, but even that was easy to overlook thanks to the tree-riddled hills stretching in every direction.

I could see people bringing boxes into homes, or writing something down on notepads, or explaining things to who I assume were test subjects. The van driver took me to the security station and told me to talk to whoever was inside. Whatever camaraderie we might have shared during the four-hour-long drive here was gone the moment I stepped outside and the tires peeled off the road.

Inside the building, I was greeted by a guy in a security uniform. He looked up from the paperwork he was handling. “Chris Chambers?”

“Yeah.”

“Travis Baker. Welcome to your new home, sir.” He had the no-bullshit face of a rottweiler. Those kinds of guys were the best to work with in security during high stakes. During the boring hours, not so much.

Then again, I was one of those guys. No life outside the job.

“Looks like we’re gonna have our hands full for a while. Any idea what we’re supposed to do?” I asked.

“There’s some paperwork to read in the security office. It’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Baker’s radio crackled with a voice that told him he was needed somewhere, so he excused himself right after saying he looked forward to working with me.

I dropped my duffel bag on the floor and headed to the security office. I sat at the desk and looked up at the monitors displaying live cams from all over Ashfield. People milled here and there, settling into their new homes. An occasional car drove down the street.

Although everyone was dressed in civilian outfits, the authoritative body language contrasting the timid, confused nods and shrugs made it easy to tell which ones were the company personnel and which the test subjects.

I began reading the stack of papers in front of me.

Welcome to Ashfield, population 46.

There was a lot of lengthy talk about the company, how they decided to build it, why here, how long it took, that kind of thing. I skipped to the page that said, “SECURITY RULES: TOP PRIORITY.”

1.     Curfew is at 10 p.m. Anyone who is out after that time is to be escorted home. You may fine or detain repeated offenders at your own discretion.

2.     Head count of all test subjects must be conducted every morning at 7 a.m. and evening at 7 p.m.

3.     All test subjects must be present for clinical trials at Ashfield’s medical facility (address on page 23), no exception. Those who do not show up for the trials are in breach of their contract and must be detained immediately.

4.     Report any strange occurrences by calling the number on the landline.

 

Strange occurrences? That was broad. Everything in a town like Ashfield was strange. I figured I’d have to clarify that one later with the ones in charge.

 

5.     Remember their faces.

 

I frowned. Whose faces? The test subjects’? And if so, why? Whatever. I reminded myself I didn’t understand what the purpose of the experiment was, and I was getting paid too much to start asking questions.

 

6.     The test subjects have signed an agreement to stay at Ashfield for 100 days. Since they will be undergoing medication we do not fully understand yet, exposure to the outside world is prohibited. Bear in mind that some test subjects are company moles, and their job is to test the security personnel. They may try to make compelling excuses for you to let them go. You will not know whether the person asking to leave is a test subject or a mole.

 

Please bear in mind that the things happening in Ashfield may often seem like unlawful or a violation of human rights. Rest assured it is all a part of the experiment that the test subjects have agreed to. Should you have any concerns, do not hesitate to call the number on the landline.

 

When I looked up, I noted one such violation immediately. My attention was caught by a woman in the shower. Christ, they had cameras even in bathrooms. A huge breach of privacy, one I wasn’t sure how the company managed to evade, but I told myself many weird things were going to be happening in Ashfield.

When I finished perusing the papers, I was officially ready to start working at the town.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

On the first day, I met the townsfolk of the experiment. For the duration of their stay, all the participants were given fake jobs to maintain a sense of normalcy. Aside from the typical 9 to 5 (which was 12 to 4 over here, or however long the participant was willing to indulge in the fantasy), the test subjects would go grocery shopping, to the restaurant, the doctor, mechanic, etc.

It was as I had said—everything about Ashfield seemed normal on the most superficial level. Remove the towering walls and the gate and you could easily fool passersby who stopped for gas. But the fakeness of the town was just one squint away, constantly looming in your periphery, reminding you Ashfield was just a stage full of actors.

The people sure seemed to enjoy this play-pretend experiment. They easily got into their roles of soccer moms and suburban dads and town recluses and average Joes and friendly neighbors, but just like the town, one good look left you wondering what lay behind that mask.

As for me, I didn’t try to pretend. Unlike them, I had a real job. The overseers of the experiment depended on me to keep the town clean, and I intended to do that.

Unfortunately, the easy money would turn out to be not so easy, because on the fifth morning, the strange things at Ashfield started to happen.

 

 

*****

 

 

Baker and I were doing the morning head count of the townsfolk. This was always conducted in front of the medical facility. The people had been particularly lethargic that day—hardly any chatter among them.

“Chief, something’s wrong,” Baker said when he returned from counting.

“What is it?”

“There’s forty-one people.”

I stared at him. “Then count again.”

“I did. Three times. It’s forty-one.”

When you’re in this line of work, you learn to trust your partner. They give you information, you take it as the truth. The lack of micromanagement was crucial in time-sensitive situations.

I didn’t know Baker, though. He looked like he was serious about his duties, but for all I knew, he was a nephew of a high-ranking doctor in the experiment who pulled some strings.

“Head back to the station. I’ll do the head count,” I said.

When I finished the count, I had 41 people. That couldn’t be right. The population of Ashfield was 40 if you didn’t count the 6 security personnel. It had been 40 twice a day every day since my arrival.

I counted again, scrutinizing every face in the crowd. Remember their faces. Could it be that one of my team members ended up in the flock in confusion?

41 again.

By then, the groans and the hopping from foot to foot and the yawns were becoming more and more apparent. I radioed Baker and told him to call HQ from the landline. A few minutes later, he radioed me back saying the higher-ups said it was okay to let the people start with the clinical trials. I asked him what they had to say to the surplus, and he said they just told him, “Thank you for reporting this.”

Although I was clearly baffled by the situation, orders were orders. I let the people head inside. I went back to the security station and went through the roster of test subjects. 41 people.

On the first page of the rule book, it said: Welcome to Ashfield, population 47.

I wish things stopped there, because I could then chalk them up to my own insanity. But as these things always go, this was just the beginning of a nightmare.