Jade woke up in a dimly lit room. Slowly, after long disorienting minutes of blinking into the darkness, her eyes began to adjust. The bright red eye in an upper corner of the room resolved into a point of light, an LED attached to a device of some sort. A cylinder with a shiny base. Like a bottle. Or a lens.

  Sitting up stiffly, she squinted at the shadow that was barely visible in the darkness, but the sudden light that filled the room as soon as she moved blinded her and she groaned, covering her face with her arms as her eyes again attempted to adjust.

  Finally, she recovered enough to make sense of her surroundings, a colorless white room with a cot against one wall with a small shelf beside it. There was a chair in the other corner, a cold plastic molded that served the purpose of providing a place to sit without concerning itself with such trivial things as comfort. She scrambled to her feet and realized that she was dressed entirely in white as well. A jumpsuit of some sort with a black label sewn into the left breast, a design that combined a radioactive symbol with a crescent moon. She had simple white slip-on shoes on her feet and her hair was braided and tied up in a pile on the top of her head.

  She had no memory of putting on these clothes or entering this room, wherever it was. The last thing she could remember… Nothing. She couldn’t even remember what her last memory was. Everything was cloudy. It reminded her of when she’d gotten a concussion as a child when… No, even that half memory dissolved as soon as she tried to grasp at it.

  Sighing in frustration, she looked around the room again, paying careful attention to the closed door and the camera affixed to the ceiling. Giving the camera a nasty look, she studied the door and wondered if it was locked. She almost didn’t want to find out because as soon as she thought of the door being locked she started to feel the choking sensation of claustrophobia claw its way across her skin.

  Then she noticed a folded sheet of paper on the shelf by the bed. She hadn’t noticed it at first because like everything else in the room, it was perfectly white. Reaching for the paper with a sidelong glance at the camera, she picked it up and unfolded it. The words on the surface had been type except for a signature that seemed painfully familiar.

  “I, Jade Jackson, agree to waive my rights to legal action in regards to the drug I am about to take. I understand that when I wake up, I will no longer remember who I am or why I’m here. I make this choice willingly and without duress.”

  She traced the signature below this statement, realizing it was hers.

  “What the hell?”

  ///

  Ethan rolled over lazily in the darkness, reaching for blankets or a companion, neither of which were within reach. Then he realized how cold and hard his bed felt and grunted when a blinding light washed over him. Slowly, sleep relinquished its hold and he sat up, confused by his surroundings. It looked like a cell of some sort, complete with a prison-style bed and a security camera. The lights must have been motion sensitive. How annoying was that? Shift too much in your sleep and suddenly you had harsh fluorescent light in your face. He hated that type of light. He thought he could see it vibrating, and the sensation gave him headaches.

  Shaking the thought away, he wondered why he hated it so much. There was something he spent a lot of time doing, something that made proper lighting critical. But he couldn’t remember what it was. Something visual. Was he an artist? And why couldn’t he remember? His head felt foggy. The bed creaked when he sat down on it and he noticed that he appeared to be wearing white pajamas and slippers. He hated white. It always looked horrible on him. So unflattering.

  The paper on the table beside him fluttered when he sighed deeply and he picked it up, stunned by the legal statement inside.

  “I, Ethan Rodriguez, agree to waive my rights…”

  ///

  Olivia woke up with a headache, grateful for the dark. Prone to migraines, she knew the danger of too much light when she was in such a state. Although, she wasn’t sure if this really was a migraine since it was already starting to fade. She heard a muffled thud from somewhere nearby and a squeaking sound like bed springs.

  The sound sent a jolt of adrenaline pumping through her, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She lived alone—or at least she thought she did. The details were difficult to grasp. But somehow she knew that if she was in her bedroom at home she would not expect to hear sounds like that unless her cat had jumped on her bed. She had a cat. But what was his name? She suddenly couldn’t remember.

  Another thud made her jump in surprise and she shrieked when light flooded the room, leaping up and scrambling across the floor until she felt the solid protection of a wall at her back. Squinting into the light, she regarded the white room with growing panic. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She knew it. Had she been abducted? Was it human traffickers? Or a serial killer? Or aliens? Was it aliens?

  ///

  Miles read the note with more curiosity than panic. The language was such obviously fake legalize that it couldn’t possibly be real. His first instinct was that this was an elaborate prank being played on him. Probably by his dungeon master or his older brother…

  He put the paper down with a frown spreading over his lips. His brother. What was his name? He had a brother, didn’t he? And a…sister? He couldn’t remember anything about either of them. That was weird. Had he been drugged? That was a bit much for a sibling joke. Maybe it was one of his dungeons and dragons buddies. They would be much more likely to implement such an elaborate prank. Especially his dungeon master… That name floated away as well.

  Wait, what was the character he usually played? An elf? A dwarf? What class? Alignment?

  The paper drifted to the ground as he stood up abruptly and began to pace. This was seriously disturbing. These weren’t the sort of details he tended to forget. He turned to face the door and clenched a fist. Fully expecting it to be locked, he charged toward it with a roar and was shocked to find it opened easily and he tripped over his own feet trying to stop his momentum when he fell into the room beyond.

  ///

  Keyon’s Motiv8 buzzed at him to get moving. He hadn’t hit his step goal yet for the day. Shaking himself awake, he blinked into the sudden light with familiarity. Morning workouts were sort of his thing, and he had a timer on his light to wake him when it was time to get up for his morning jog. Reaching for his tennis shoes, he realized in surprise that he was lying on a squeaky bed— which was wrong since his bed was pure memory foam—and that his sneakers weren’t where he should have left them. He felt a sudden urge to curse someone for moving them, but then he couldn’t remember who that was.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Had he slept over somewhere? And why did that make him feel a hint of panic in his chest? He felt like he hadn’t done this in a long time. Like it would be a betrayal to sleep somewhere other than with his girlfriend. But he couldn’t remember her name or what she looked like. And where the hell were his sneakers?

  He sat up with a sour expression and looked around the room, fully seeing it for the first time. A sinking feeling made him groan. No. What had he done? This was prison, wasn’t it? What had he done?!

  Shooting to his feet, he raced toward the door and pounded on it in rage.

  When the door swung open suddenly, he nearly fell on the slight, rather nerdy man standing on the other side. Looking up at him with arched brows, the man said, “All you had to do was turn the knob, you know.”

  Keyon couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

  ///

  Zoe didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there, but she did know that this supposed contract she’d signed wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. Crushing the paper in her fist, she threw the wad at the camera in the corner of the room, irritated when it just bounced back and rolled to a stop at her feet.

  When she heard shouting outside, she pressed her ear against the door and heard two male voices. It sounded like one of them was laughing. Gently turning the door knob, she was surprised when it gave way and allowed her to inch the door open far enough for her to get a look at the room outside. She couldn’t see much detail, but she could see another door like the one she was leaning against but it was open to reveal another white room. A man stood in the doorway laughing. He was tall and muscular with skin like rich mahogany, a neatly trimmed goatee framing his strong jaw. A pale man stood awkwardly beside him, half a foot shorter and slight with curly blond hair and glasses. His white uniform hung loosely on him while the white shirt was stretched tight over the other man’s chest.

  Easing the door open further, she tried to get a better look at the room and was surprised to find that it wasn’t stark white and empty. Several thick orange leather couches were grouped together on a large circular rug woven into an abstract pattern of black and white circles. There was a large television built into a structure of black shelves on one wall, and the shelves were filled with books and various unknown devices. The symbol she had noticed embroidered on her outfit was also emblazoned on one wall.

  “You scared the hell out of me, man,” the taller man said when he had finally gotten control of his laughter.

  “Sorry.” A wry smile crossed the other man’s lips. “But you should have seen the look on your face.”

  Another door opened somewhere else in the room and a woman shouted, “What the fuck?!” Zoe couldn’t see her from her angle, but both men turned toward her in surprise. “Where am I?” the woman demanded, “and who the hell are you?”

  “No idea,” the smaller man said, rolling from his heels to his toes and back again. “I mean, really. I don’t remember. My name is Miles and that’s about all I remember.”

  “Keyon,” the other man said holding out a hand for a handshake. “And yeah, I don’t remember anything else either.”

  Jade scoffed and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Of course not. You probably signed the stupid contract too.”

  Keyon frowned. “What contract?”

  “The one on the table by the bed,” Miles said with a shrug.

  Turning back to the room, behind him, Keyon went to find the contract and Zoe decided that she’d waited long enough, pushing the door open, she stepped out into the room and saw the wild eyed woman on the other side of the room. Curvy but fit in her white jumpsuit, the dark-skinned amazon had fire in her eyes and looked ready for a fight.

  “What did your contract say?” Zoe asked, hesitant to draw the woman’s attention but too curious to stay silent any longer.

  “And you are?” the woman asked, an artfully plucked brow arching halfway up her brow.

  “Zoe. I don’t think I caught your name.”

  “Jade.”

  “So, what did your contract say?”

  “A bunch of bullshit about how I signed up for this.” She waved a hand around at the room. “Whatever the hell this is.”

  Keyon had returned to the room with his own contract. “This is messed up,” he muttered.

  “Can I take a look at that?” Zoe asked, reading his letter closely and comparing it to her own. Other than the difference in name and signature, it was exactly the same.

  “What are these other doors?” Jade asked, walking over to a closed door and opening it to look inside. She jumped back in surprise when she saw a man standing on the other side. Slightly taller than Jade, he was broad-shouldered and filled out his jumpsuit admirably though not as completely as Keyon. He had short black hair and bright blue eyes that were startling against his coffee-colored complexion.

  “Ethan,” he said, holding up a hand in greeting to the room. He gave Jade a once-over before turning his attention to the others. Before she could him giving her the same regard, Zoe stepped further into the room to investigate the living area.

  “What were you doing just standing in there, Ethan?” Jade asked. “It’s creepy as fuck.”

  “Do you always curse every other word?” Keyon asked.

  “I do when I’m creeped the fuck out!” Jade shouted back. “This doesn’t make any sense. Where are we? And why would we all voluntarily take some drug to wipe our memories? That is not something I would do.”

  “How do you know?” Miles asked airly.

  Jade turned to glare at him.

  “I mean, if you don’t remember anything, why do you think this isn’t something you would do?”

  “I know who I am,” she protested. “I just can’t...remember details about my life.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ethan agreed. “I think I’m an artist—or a designer—or something, but I don’t really remember anything about where I went to school or where I work. Nothing. But I know that logo is ugly as hell.” He pointed at the emblem on the wall.

  Miles turned to look at it. “Really? I kind of liked it.”

  “Then you have bad taste,” Ethan said matter-of-factly.

  “It’s horrid,” Jade agreed, continuing her search of the other doors with a little more caution.

  Zoe ignored them all as she searched through the shelves for a clue about where they were. The books were no help. They were all completely random. They were the kind of books you would choose if you were trying to build a library for the most varied group of people imaginable, with topics ranging from romance to bike repair to civil war history. The only thing they all had in common was that they looked old.

  “Looks like there’s a kitchen through here,” Jade announced from one of the doorways. And after a little more exploration she added, “And a bathroom.”

  “Are we on a reality show?” Miles asked, gaze fixed on the camera attached to the ceiling above him.

  “Oh god, I hope not,” Zoe murmured, turning back to the group.

  She yelped when she saw someone standing directly behind her, a slender woman with long, red hair and a rather vicious sunburn. The girl had an intense expression of focus in her dark brown eyes that made Zoe uncomfortable.

  “What the fuck?” Jade said in concern, spinning around.

  Keyon groaned. “Would you stop saying that?”

  “Sorry to scare you,” the new girl said with a wince. “I came out of there.” She gestured to another all white bedroom. “I heard you all talking and didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Hand still clutched to her chest, Zoe tried to catch her breath. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit on edge with, you know, everything.”

  Nodding, the girl looked at the others and held up a DVD. “Maybe this will help? I found this on the table there. It’s labeled: orientation.”