Ben’s leg bounced nervously as he waited for the bad news. He knew he didn’t belong here, and now they surely knew it too.

Finally the facilitator entered with her artificial smile. But she sat across from him and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Holban! You’ve tested in the highest aptitude.”

“I did?” Ben gaped, all his anxiety evaporating. “Really?”

“Yes!” the facilitator replied, her smile suddenly seeming much more genuine. “And in order to make sure your intellect is utilized to the fullest potential, we are offering you a position with our organization.”

“A position,” Ben repeated, so giddy he might hyperventilate. “What—how . . . What kind of position?”

“Our most generous contact,” she said magnanimously. “All your needs will be met, so long as you are able to continue making contributions.”

“When can I start?” Ben asked, still grinning.

The facilitator smiled back. “Immediately.”

And it was true. There was a flurry of paperwork; then they took him to medical for a couple injections. And then it was too late. Ben’s world went hazy. There were tubes and wires and a tank. The corporation provided everything he needed to live. The only thing he had to give them was his life.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox