"It's a simple test."



Professor Hask sat across the sterile metal table, and for a moment I wondered if I'd be lying on top of it at any point.



"How simple is 'simple', exactly?" I asked timidly.



"Well, I assume you've heard that we've been working with... well, convicted criminals. It's not as bad as the rumors, say, though. Not at all. They are here of their own free will, and our tests have been thoroughly vetted by a team of civil rights lawyers."



"So you don't open their skulls like a can of beans and you're not rooting around for the piece of brain matter that makes them evil?"



The Professor rasped out a dry, elderly chuckle and shook his head.



"No, we most certainly do not. In fact, if you asked any of these men where they'd rather be... why, our facilities are high-class hotels compared to where we found them."



"Alright, I guess I can take a shot at this, then. The test, I mean. I really want to help further the cause."



Of course, I really just needed the money. I had received 'notification' that I would 'no longer be an asset' to my current employer that week. The fucks I didn't give about science could fill the old man's office.



"Excellent!" he reached out to shake my hand, "Welcome to the program, my boy!"



It was only a matter minutes before I found myself seated in the control chamber. I'm not sure if I heard them call it that, or if I only give it that name now because it seems so obvious. The small room... more of a closet, really... was home to a wide variety of knobs, switches, levers, and other assorted do-dads.



I felt like a pilot about to fly the whole stupid College to its fiery doom.



"Each button and device you see before you controls a specific piece of machinery located in your test partner's room. Water, heat, air, and so forth..."



The Professor stopped when he saw the hard look I was giving him.



"You have a question?"



"Yeah, of course I do. Water? Air? You mean I'm controlling his environment?"



"Correct! If he is thirsty, you decide if he receives liquid. If he is cold, you will choose whether or not he is comforted. So, moving on..."



Another hard look. He halted in much the same manner.



"Yes?"



"Well, 'and so forth' covers a lot of things."



"Ah. Of course. You're curious and that's a very good sign for this test. Alright, I can't go over every device or we would be here for quite a while... also, I'm not sure if I remember them all."



He searched the controls with his eyes, pressing the glasses closer to his face with a grimace. Then, he continued.



"Electricity, applied to the fingers... tightness of the restraints... small blades that... well, I'm sure you'll do fine. Just remember that all of the punishments are in order of severity from bottom to top. The lowest row of buttons correlate to the least extreme devices."



My eye wandered to a single large, black dial at the very top.



"Yeeaah," I cleared my throat, "I'm not doing that."



Professor Hask's face dropped, and all at once I was looking at a sad old man instead of a stern intellectual.



"Oh, aren't you? Well that's a shame."



I started to get up from the already uncomfortable folding chair.



"A real shame," he continued, "All of the other applicants showed much less empathy during preliminary testing. If I recall correctly, I think you were the highest ranking applicant when it came to decision making."



I sat back down, but only to contemplate that. At least that's what I told myself at the time.



"That's why I insisted on bringing you into the program, in fact." Hask turned away from me, shrugged, and started out the door, "The last thing I want is for someone treating our equipment like a video game."



"Alright," I croaked, "I'm in control, right? I get to decide what happens? I mean, I don't even have to do anything if I understand correctly?"



"Exactly!" his face brightened, "It's all up to you, and remember that the prisoner you'll be conversing with has been fully informed and will be compensated just as much as you are."



Well, if anyone was capable of handling this in a responsible manner, it was an insurance investigator who hadn't strangled his three teenaged daughters up until that point.



Only after the Professor left did the man's voice issue from a speaker in the ceiling.



"Hey, what's up motherfucker?" was the immediate greeting.



"Wow." I laughed, clearly offended.



"Just fucking with you, man. Hey, this is some shit, right? What's this stuff for? Shocking people and shit?"



"So you DO know about that."



"Yeah, whatever. Shocks and ice and leeches and shit."



"Leeches?!"



"I guess. Black little pieces of shit they got in a thing up there. Trapdoor and whatnot. Gross motherfuckers."



"Don't worry about it, I'm not messing with that stuff." I reassured him, and felt pretty good doing so. I'd never had the upper hand over someone else before. Ever.



"Well when the fuck starting?" the voice probed.



The idea was simple... or at least, it seemed so. Both of us received the same fee for our work, but a bonus had been offered. I would get paid an additional amount if I got the crook to admit what his crime had been. If he didn't give up the information, or fed me a lie, he would get the bonus instead.



We were given complete privacy, and I could leave at any time with what I thought to be his "true" confession.



If I came out of the room believing a lie, well, that was my only shot.



"So why don't you tell me what you did?" I started, "Save us both the time, and we both get paid anyway. Right?"



"Yeah, yeah, brother." the man nodded, or at least it sounded like he did, "They wanna pay me to sit here naked, I ain't gonna argue."



There was a pause, and for a moment my heart seemed to stop.



"So your crime is...?"



"Oh, ah, shoplifting. Stole a big screen TV from this truck parked outside my place. That's it, man! Okay, let's get the fuck out of here."



I was going to accept his first answer and leave. I really was. Even if I was wrong, I decided I was going to just take whatever he said as God's truth.



However, I didn't.



"That... seemed a lot like you took some time to think."



The convict laughed.



"Nah, nah, man. I'm not that good a liar."



"Mm-hmm. That's what I always say when I'm bullshitting, too."



I rarely curse outside my house, and almost always when I think no one is listening, but this seemed like a safe opportunity to let it fly.



"So what, you gonna shock me or something? My story ain't gonna change. That's what happened."



"No, I'm not going to shock you. I told you I wouldn't do anything, I keep my word. That's..."



I hesitated for a moment, then I went for it...



"That's probably a new concept for you."



"Oooo-eeee, motherfucker!" the voice howled, "The bitch got her nails out!"



"Excuse me? Bitch?"



"I ain't seen you, but I figure you're probably some pencilly-neck little fruity bitch, right? Thinks he's better than everyone and shit."



Silence filled the room for minutes on end. We were both waiting for the other to say or do something.



Then, the sound of an electrical hum followed by a yelp.



Laughter again. His laughter.



"Woo! Now we're fucking talking! That's how you wanna play it, huh? Man, I tell you I can spot a little bitch a mile away."



"Hey, pay attention," I snapped back, "You didn't steal a television, or at least that isn't why you're here, so tell me the truth. Now."



"Fine, I was just messing with you anyway. You're too sensitive, like you always get what you want."



"Don't stall."



"Drugs, man. Just some pot and shit."



I flipped a lever.



There was a scream.



"Motherfucker! Motherfuck!! God damn it, where that even come from?"



"Tell me what you did."



My voice was calm. Even in that moment I was suprirsed by how even it was.



Over the course of two hours, or what I presume to be two hours, I ran through a litany of threats, obscenities, button taps, and switch flicks. Some of the results were obvious. Some I had to guess based on what I was hearing.



My friend on the other end of the line admitted to a wide variety of crimes.



At first, they were simple. Car theft. Unpaid child support. Anonymous sex in a state park.



Then, it got worse.



He was a bank robber.



He was gang banger.



He was a murderer.



He was a rapist.



He was a pedophile.



As time dragged on, I became convinced that I could reach the one true crime this man had committed. I was sure that I would know the truth when I heard it, and I knew I'd forever regret hearing it.



What I didn't expect, however, were the threats.



"I'll kill you!" the voice shrieked, haggard and perhaps choking on blood, "I'll kill your fucking family!"



I listened to him rant for as long as he could. I just sat there, silently raging against the perverted monster I'd been connected to by some random fuck-up of fate.



"Your wife... your kids... I have ways. I can find you. I may be trapped in here, but I can find anybody. You think you're anonymous, you cowardly piece of shit? You got a name. I'll get into that fucker Hask's computer and find all your shit! You're dead! You're all dead!"



I prolonged application of the green, triangular button halted the tirade.



"How..." the voice was weak, now. Breathless. "How can a human being do this. I... I didn't... I never anticipated that people could... I never... this can't be allowed..."



"Ready for the truth?" I leaned forward in my seat and listened carefully. Mostly because the voice was so hard to hear, now.



"Y... yes... please, this is it... this is the information they want..."



I left the humid little room with the final confession written on the folded slip of paper I'd been handed upon entry. However, before I exited, I spun the large black dial with a flick of the wrist. It was as simple as snapping a chicken's neck.



The sound from that speaker no longer sounded like a man. It was an ear-splitting, caterwauling thing.



"Here you go, Professor." I handed over the slip. "Is that what you wanted?"



His eyebrows rose.



"Ah ha! You did it. I have to say, you're the first one to get this out of him. I knew you were a special case when we began."



"I have to admit, my 'empathy', as you put it, was heavily tested."



"Oh, yes, about that." Professor Hask folded his arms and smirked. "I may have mislead you in that regard. To be honest, your results were completely normal."



I was a little ticked off, but it seemed like a minor slight.



"I guess that's fine as long as your money spends. I hope your subject in there will be alright... well, that's not true given what did."



I looked back at the room, then to the Professor. I shook my head solemnly.



"He threatened to kill me and my family, too. You sure picked a winner."



The Professor laughed. That wasn't the response I had expected.



"I'm afraid you must be mistaken. There is no convict. In fact, there was never a second room. What you spoke with was a complex simulation. The voice is near perfect, and the code is very advanced, but needless to say it's not programmed to make personal threats."



I demanded to see the real man. The Professor showed me a computer bank.



I demanded to speak with the real man. The Professor sat me in the control room again, and there the voice was... starting all over as if nothing had happened.



I demanded my money, and that was the one request that could be fulfilled.



I've tried to put the experience behind me, and for the most part this job hunt has kept me too busy to worry about the implications.



However, I've been receiving shocks, lately. From the toaster... the television... the elevator in my building... every time I press a button or flip a switch, I get zapped.



Each time, the intensity grows a little stronger.