Mister Carson

It only opened up an hour later to reclaim the tray.

Carson's eyes had adjusted to the dimness, but the solitude quickly became overwhelming. He was even anticipating the scientist's next visit. Playing through his mind were scenarios, possible conversation branches that would serve his thirst for the truth, but not antagonise the only man who could help him. It was obvious Carson was some sort of lab rat, though he had no recollection of it being forced or voluntary. So much he wanted to know: his full name, his personality, interests, loves, family. And the world around him. He had no idea what year it was, or what his home looked like. Simple things that an ordinary person should know.

It had occurred to Carson that he had been drugged and that his memory would return given time. The fatigue was unaccounted for, but he did not dream or suffer hallucinations. He even enjoyed eating and his stomach agreed with him. It had to be something else.

Only one man held the answers. Carson was relieved to hear the door open. The time of day was anyone's guess. He looked no different and Carson had studied him well the first time. He would continue to observe the man in the hope it might become beneficial.

The warm smile was present, but the hands stayed loose at his side. "I am Doctor Harrison, just in case you are curious."

Carson remained silent.

It was hard to see in the perpetual shadow, but he thought the Doctor narrowed his eyes just a little. "Well. I come with the terms of our engagements. On my visits, you will be allowed to ask me one question, and one question only. There are boundaries, so you would do well to spend your time thinking. I will leave the boundaries to your common sense. Am I clear?"

"You are."

Doctor Harrison's hands came together, and his mood lightened. "Okay. I'm glad you understand me. I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere, Mister Carson. Think carefully."

Carson almost shook his head. He sought for complete control. He could play along to a point. They might let him go once they found what they were after.

* * *

The meetings came in quick succession. The first was only the following day.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Harrison asked.

"As well as can be expected. Something to do would be nice."

The Doctor's expression barely flickered in response. "Still vague?"

Carson shrugged, attempting to act only mildly concerned. "There are many things I would like to know that should be second nature."

Whether talking or listening, Doctor Harrison was watching him like a hawk. They were silently sounding each other out, and no doubt each knew it of the other. "A good time for your first question then, wouldn't you say?"

He did not reply with a submissive, "Yes." Carson was unwilling to play into his keeper's hands by giving him control of the conversation. With control came power, of which the balance was seriously lacking on his side. He felt like inquiring about why he was here, but the man's voice filled his head like a nauseatingly good conscience, firm but chirpy. Boundaries, Mister Carson, boundaries. "Is there war, or are the nations at peace?" he asked instead.

He would start generally, working his way into specific questions.

"An interesting query. The Trade War ended five years ago. Oceania and its northern neighbours signed a coalition agreement, the subcommittee of which signed the peace treaty with Europa and the western superpowers. Afrikaana, with their unwavering multitude of problems, and the powerful Russia have stayed out of it. They sit back, waiting for a sign of which hemisphere is in their best interests to align with. East or West.