you are going to fuck your blood pressure to 
high hell 

please stop 


MISSED CALL (1) FROM ADAM 
LEEWARD 23:10 


23:08 | Adam Leeward 

Please be ignoring me and not actually away 
from your pager 

| wont be mad | promise | just want you to be 
safe 

Please answer the calls. 

Please tell me something 


MISSED CALL (1) FROM ADAM 
LEEWARD 23:14 


23:15 | Adam Leeward 
Fuck. 


Rance sits down at his old desk and lowers his briefcase onto the 


table. He hasn't been here since at least three months ago, and it's 
already dusty. He's never been quite sure why he left it, come to 
think of it; they wanted him to cut his paperwork hours and increase 
his guard hours, but it's not like they took his computer access in 
here away until the very end. Just the other day, actually, all thanks 
to his 'removal’. But he knew he could still get in. They didn't actually 
do anything. They just told him not to use the computer, and trusted 
he'd obey them. 


He starts by turning off the lights. He only wants the glow of the 
monitor. He doesn't want to see the placard by the door; he doesn't 
want to see the picture of him and his coworkers on the right-side 
wall; he doesn't want to look at himself in the left corner's mirror. He 
doesn't want to be aware. 


He boots up the computer, the Windows startup screen casting a 
cold blue glow on his reddened face. He sighs and opens his bag. 
His laptop. His change of clothes. Four unused hypodermic needles. 
A spray-can of Class-As, which he had anyway. Four bottles of Type 
Ill Class-C, which he took from the cell block's medical wing. That 
was what they used on the D-classes. That was the type that was 
capable of wiping away a month of memories. A month, back to 
early September. September, a few days before it all started. Before 
D-9241 got in a fight with him. Before Safety Officer Laurel Gailey 
watched them on the feeds. Before 9241 lied. Before Gailey 
pretended it was sex. Before Gailey went snooping in his home life 
and using everything she could find against him. Before any of it. 


But first, he wants to look again. He doesn’t want to look again, but 
it's there. It's been there for weeks. He wants to know. He has to 
know if he got anything wrong. And as he readies the bottles and 
syringes, he opens a folder on the hard drive. 


And he looks at the paperwork. 


And he looks at the pager records. 


ARCHIVED RECORDS OF PERSONAL 
COMMUNICATION, SEPTEMBER 2016 


She just... bit it off. All of it, and then she spit it out and showed it to 
him, just so that he could see it happening... [Agent 1] just... he 
couldn't believe it at first, then he was trying to scream but she'd torn 
his throat out with her teeth, then she made her hand like this and 
stabbed it into his belly. [Agent 1] was gurgling and trying to push 
her off, he was bleeding all over the place, but she just pushed him 
to the ground and started working her fingers in his belly, reached in 
deep and pulled something... it must have been his liver, it was the 
right shape and color... just pulled it out like she was gutting a fish 
and swallowed it whole. 


Swallowed it whole? 


Like a snake, she just... one gulp, like that. Then she started peeling 
his skin off, like... an orange or something, | didn't stop to watch, | 
ran back to the room, shook [Agent 2] awake, told him we needed to 
get going, grab your gun. He didn't... | went for our weapons, 
grabbed my .45 and then [Agent 1] walked in asking what was 
wrong, so | shot him. 


You shot him? 
| saw him die, he was dead, she killed him, it had to be her. 
Are you sure? Perhaps you were mistaken. 


She tore his guts out and ate them, he was DEAD! And "his" eyes 
were glowing yellow! What the hell kind of human being has glowing 
yellow eyes? 


I see, please proceed. 


[Agent 2] grabbed his gun then and pointed it at me, started yelling 
at me to put the gun down now, | was yelling at him to look at her, 
but he was screaming that he was going to shoot me in the head 
because | was a dirty he always knew | was one, and now I'd 
just proved it. [DATA EXPUNGED] and that's when the bitch 
grabbed him from behind and the gun went off. 


This is when you were injured? 


Yeah, he shot me in the arm, fleshy part, upper shoulder, | fell down 


| 21:20 
Hey dude. You got a minute? 


21:20 | Rance Roberts 


Yeah sure 
what is it? 
| 21:20 
| need to talk to you about something kinda 
awkward. 
21:20 | Rance Roberts 
uh oh 
| 21:20 


Don't sweat it, don't sweat it. Can | ask? 


21:21 | Rance Roberts 
i mean i guess i gotta say yes 


| 21:21 

Okay, so 

D-9241, from the female block where you 
used to work. 

What was your relationship with her? 


21:21 | Rance Roberts 
oh jesus 
who put you up to this 


| 21:21 

Whoa there, it's a little early for that 

| just need to know. You and | are friends, 
you can tell me anything. 


21:21 | Rance Roberts 

yeah right. 

what kind of "anything" 

I'm a fucking cell block guard, you'd better 
hope | don't get personal with anyone in an 
orange jumpsuit 


no matter the setting 


| 21:22 

better hope eh 

Listen, if you and here did anything with 
each other, I'll keep it secret. 

“her 


21:22 | Rance Roberts 

Don't do this to me dude. 

Is this about that thing 

from several days or weeks ago or however 
long it was. 


| 21:22 

Where you bent her over an exam table with 
your ~pelvic area~ pressed up against her 
ass and freaked out when Gailey saw it? 
maybe 

| mean that was pretty black-and-white to 
me. | saw the security feed. 


21:23 | Rance Roberts 
WE BOTH HAD CLOTHES ON. 


| 21:23 
i mean 
dry sex is a thing 


21:23 | Rance Roberts 
What the actual hell is wrong with you 
Christ alive 


| 21:23 

Look, D-9241 said she was uncomfortable 
with it and complained 

and since it's on security feeds it's well 
like i said 

kinda black and white :| 


21:24 | Rance Roberts 


so you're taking the word of a D-CLASS over 
me 

even when you literally have seen the 
security feeds 

and it's really fucking obvious that that was a 
quick move 

jesus, you saw what she was doing, right? 
she was literally known around that block to 
be a total cunt at all times possible. 

like, she resists literally everything 


21:25 | Rance Roberts 

she tried to sock me in the jaw that night 

the fucking biology department needed a 
redhead between 20 and 30 or whatever the 
hell their reason was 

for whatever fucking anomaly they needed 
to test on someone 

| don't fucking know it since it's not my damn 
job 

and she didn't want to go 

and she resisted me trying to get her out of 
her cell 

and you can- you can literally see her swing 
at me 


21:26 | Rance Roberts 

you can literally see it on the security feeds. 
she swings at me, | dodge it, | put her hands 
behind her back, we scuffle, it ends up with 
me pinning her against the table 

and literally all of this is on video. 

if any of y'all interpreted that as sexual in the 
slightest, y'all're the perverts, not me. 


| 21:26 
Alright, slow down. Lordy. 


21:27 | Rance Roberts 
Don't you "lordy" me 
this is an uncalled-for personal attack. 


| 21:27 

issue Is in the words. 

she says you muttered something in her ear 
that's what gave it the context that people 
were concerned about 


21:27 | Rance Roberts 
Oh God above. 
Humor me then. 


| 21:28 
Huh? 


21:28 | Rance Roberts 
Humor me then! What did | supposedly say? 


| 21:28 
Well, what DID you say? 


21:28 | Rance Roberts 

You expect me to remember? God, it's the 
same thing we all say to all of them, ffs 

"if you cooperate, this will be easier" 

or something 


| 21:29 
yyyyeah that's not what she heard. Close, 
though. 
21:29 | Rance Roberts 
Well that's fucking nice. 
What am | accused of saying? 
| 21:29 
"If you don't cooperate, I'll be coming back 
later" 


21:29 | Rance Roberts 

ha wow 

interesting. 

the funny thing is that even if | HAD said that 


which | DIDN'T 

and you're going by the word of a D-CLASS 
on this 

it like 

that still isn't necessarily sexual. 

like, that'd've been massively inappropriate, 
sure, but that's because we have rules on 
issuing unprofessional threats. 


21:30 | Rance Roberts 

like | can think of things anyone could've 
said there that would've crossed the sexual 
line 

which | won't example here because a) you'll 
just screenshot this and send it around and 
b) there's no point but like 

there are things | could have said there that 
were that type of inappropriate, and they're 
still not the thing she's claiming | said. 
*make example of 


21:31 | Rance Roberts 

now can | know what I'm like 

actually accused of? 

i'm sorry but | find this all super sudden and 
uncalled for and honestly abhorrent 


| 21:31 

Sexual misconduct 

It's based on a lot of other stuff that's known 
about you, too. 

Actually I'm not supposed to be telling you 
this (no one sent me to ask you this shit, 
btw, this is just me talking so | might get in 
trouble idk) but Gailey knows about you and 
your girlfriend 


21:32 | Rance Roberts 

...Are you for real right now? 

Are you literally like 

am | literally under scrutiny for "sexual 


misconduct" because the fucking security 
director doesn't like BDSM 

(and for some reason is snooping in my 
private life in order to gain this info?) 

so because of that and because 

|... put Someone in a restraint position 
because she was trying to punch me in the 
jaw. 

is that like 

is that what's going on here. 

Is that literally all the context here. 


| 21:32 
Well that and the erection 
why did you have a boner if this wasn't 


sexual? 
obvs not in the feeds but 9241 said you did 
and well 
see previous comments about additional 
context 
21:32 | Rance Roberts 
dude | 
what. 
, | DONT HAVE A DICK. 
what the fuck 
Christ alive. 
| 21:32 


You... wait, shit, what? 
9241 said you 
yeah. 


21:32 | Rance Roberts 

| shouldn't have to tell you what's between 
my legs to get you to lay off me, firstly. like 
who is the sexual harasser here, cause it 
ain't me. 

And secondly, we all wear fucking tactical 
pants. For all | know she was feeling my belt 
buckle, or truncheon, or anything else on 


that goddamn 50-pound equipment belt. 


| 21:32 
I'm confused too now - | thought you were 
trans? 


21:33 | Rance Roberts 

I'm trans the other way around you fucking 
dipshit. 

Why do you think | moved FROM the female 
department TO the male 

| don't have a dick and 9241 is a liar 
grasping at straws because she can't deal 
with the fact that she's an ex-con having a 
shitty life. 


| 21:33 
God, fine 


21:34 | Rance Roberts 

k yeah wow 

you can just stop there. 

Keep calling yourself my friend if you want 
but friends don't interrogate friends about 
fake rape allegations so 

have a nice night and fuck off. 


RANCE ROBERTS HAS DISCONNECTED 
21:34 


And he looks at the emails. 


And he looks at himself in the mirror. 


He has an alright facial shape, he thinks. It's better in the 
low lighting. Is that stubble? It might be stubble. He can't 
tell. 


The office is hot. He takes his armored security vest off 
and drops it to the wooden floor with a muffled clack. 
Underneath it, he's just wearing his typical gray work 

shirt. Foundation logo on the sleeve. He doesn't like 
looking at it, for some reason, but he can't place why. He 
untucks his shirt from his pants and winces. He's too 
thin. He was always too thin. He takes his binder off with 
a heavy breath and lets his too-large breasts hang down 
and breathe. He takes his pants off. He tries to avoid 
looking between his legs. He turns around. He's still got 
an alright ass, he thinks, even though the rest of him is 
abhorrent. 


He walks over to the desk and stands by it. He picks up 
a vial and a syringe and sits down on the musty couch by 
the window. He's wearing only his socks and boots and 
boxers. He must look funny. He always looks funny. He 
doesn't think it'll ever change. 


He wipes his arm with a pad of rubbing alcohol and rubber-bands it. 
He's nervous. He puts the capped syringe and bottle back down on 
the table. He wants to calm down. He needs to calm down. He 
reaches for the spray-can of Class-As. He's never taken amnestics 
before. He doesn't know if it'll smell bad, or how close to his face he 
has to spray for it to work. The can is just a plain steel one with the 
typical compressed substance explosion and fire warning on the 
side. He exhales deeply, shakes it, extends his arm its full length 
away from his face, closes his eyes, and presses the nozzle. He can 
feel a thin mist hit his face. He takes as deep a breath in as he can; 
it's salty, almost. Salty and cold and artificial. It stings on his tongue 
and in his nostrils and down into his lungs where it burns. 


He lies down on the couch, can in hand. How does it work? What is 
he supposed to forget? When will he forget? Of all the times he'd 
done this to other people during interrogations and security work, he 
still had no idea what it would do to him. 


His mind wanders to thoughts of Jane. When he was young, only 
early 20s. When they'd both just been hired and had both just 
moved on-site. Site-42, where he might be now, but he can't quite 
recall. When he was happy and energetic and in love; when he took 


her to cheesy dinner dates in the cafeteria and drank hard cider with 
her every other night, when their sex was lively and using handcuffs 
was fun instead of a reminder of restraining people on the cell block, 
and wearing a strap-on felt like two lesbians enjoying each other 
instead of a man trying to have a penis he didn't have. When he felt 
normal. Before he was unhappy. Before he hated his job. Before he 
got slandered. Before he got fired. 


He extends his arm again, sprays, and inhales. This time he tries to 
focus on how it feels: that subtle sensation of the chemical landing in 
freezing droplets on the interior surface of his lungs, the slight 
blurring of his vision, the heaviness of his head, the tingling of his 
skin. 


When he realizes he doesn't know why he's in his office, he 
stumbles up and prepares the syringe and bottle again. When the 
needle pierces his vein, he doesn't wince. He just smiles. It's the 
only pleasure he's felt in weeks. 


Anywhere from ten to thirty minutes later, he realizes his pager is 
buzzing. It's on the floor, in his pants pocket. He tries to stand, but 
he's met with a fuzzy, absent sensation in his legs. He can move his 
toes, but he can't get up. He can't swing his legs over the edge of 
the couch. He's freezing-cold, and his clothes are off. He knows that 
he's probably the one who took them off, but he doesn't know why 
they're off. He must have fallen asleep in his office. 


12:00 midnight. That's what the wall clock says: 00:00. How long 
has he been asleep? He tries to lean over and grab his pager out of 
his pants, but as he bends his arm, he's met with a dull ache, and 
realizes there's a rubber band around his bicep and a puncture mark 
on his vein. His pulse thumps in his chest. He takes a deep breath 
and reaches for his pants, wincing. His vision is blurry, and he feels 
like he's about to vomit. 


Why is he in his office? 


MISSED CALLS (3) FROM ADAM 
LEEWARD (DOUBLE-TAP TO SEE TIMES) 


23:50 | Adam Leeward 
Hey buddy. Give me a call when you have a 
chance. 


Rance Roberts | 00:02 

| don't think I can. I'm sick or something. My 
voice hurts. I'm a little scared - there's a 
needle mark on me and | don't know where it 
came from. | can't remember the number for 
security. 


00:03 | Adam Leeward 
Oh thank God you're there. How far in this 
chain can you upscroll? 


Rance Roberts | 00:03 
Just to your missed call notifications. Why? 


00:03 | Adam Leeward 
Alright, that'll have to do. I'm going to call 
your site's medical department, okay? 


Rance Roberts | 00:04 
wai t wjy 
why