Star arrived at the facility to little fanfare. The building was nestled in the heart of the city, which brought him a measure of relief—at least it wasn’t some remote compound hidden away from civilization. There were no barbed wire fences or heavy security. Just ordinary walls and doors separating him from the world outside. It was oddly underwhelming.

He stepped through the main entrance into a drab lobby. The space was lined with worn-out chairs, their fabric stained and threadbare, more suited for a landfill than a place meant to welcome people. There was no receptionist in sight, no one to greet him or explain what came next. Unsure of what else to do, Star sank into one of the chairs. A puff of dust erupted beneath him, floating lazily in the stale air.

A fit of coughing startled him. From the corner of the room, an elderly woman wheezed violently, her frail body hunched beside a rusted oxygen tank that hissed intermittently. Star doubted it was doing her much good. She looked like someone who had run out of options—someone who needed this opportunity as badly as he did. That thought unsettled him. If these were the kinds of people being recruited, it meant they were all expendable. No one would come looking for them.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cracked voice calling his name. An employee—thin, tired-looking, and dressed in a uniform that did little to hide how exhausted she was—had appeared behind the front desk. She looked as worn down as the furniture. Without much ceremony, she gestured for him to follow.

Star was led through a hallway that stretched deeper into the facility. The further they walked, the more the environment changed. The grimy, peeling walls gave way to smooth, sterile white surfaces. The air, once thick with the smell of mildew, now carried a clinical chill.

“You’ll be provided with a change of clothes and a bag for all personal belongings,” the woman said flatly, her voice mechanical. It was obvious she had recited this speech dozens, maybe hundreds, of times. Star kept pace behind her, his steps echoing in the sterile corridor. Then, without warning, she turned sharply down another hallway, nearly losing him. He had to jog to catch up.

She waited outside a door, looking equal parts impatient and disinterested. When Star caught up, she wordlessly opened it and stepped aside.

The room beyond was stark and cold, much like the rest of the facility. Two bunk beds were positioned against opposing walls, and a solitary single bed stood to the side. The mattresses were spotless, the bedding crisp and white, untouched. The only hint of personality in the room was a small painting of a sailboat near the door—an oddly serene image in such a sterile space.

Before he had time to process anything, Star was hurried off again—this time into a larger room pulsing with low murmurs and a sharp, uneasy energy. It was filled wall to wall with other participants. As he scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, a chill crept up his spine. Every person in that room wore the same hollow expression—exhausted, wary, clinging to the fraying hope that whatever this place was, it might offer something better than the lives they were trying to escape.

That alone set off alarms in Star’s mind. Something about this didn’t sit right. It was like walking into a trap you saw coming but felt powerless to avoid. Red flags weren’t just waving—they were slapping him across the face. For a brief moment, he considered turning around, walking away. He could figure out another way to get money. He had to. Bee needed him, but not like this.

He turned toward the door he’d just entered—only to feel the weight of finality crash down. The door was already closed. A broad, expressionless man stood planted in front of it like a statue, his eyes scanning the room with the detached intensity of someone use to control. Worse still, a keypad glowed silently next to the doorframe. Even if Star tried to make a break for it, there was no guarantee he could get past the man—or crack the code.

With a resigned breath, he turned back around. Hoping for the best—or at least not the worst—he forced himself to focus on whatever came next.

The worker leading him had stopped at a more polished-looking reception desk this time. She’d stopped talking to him a while ago, now locked in hushed conversation with a coworker. Star stood awkwardly nearby, unsure if he was supposed to wait or speak. After a moment, he was handed a plastic bag containing a pair of sweatpants and a basic t-shirt. Then he was directed to a small bathroom to change. He made sure to tuck the paper forget-me-not into the band of his sweatpants.

He hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but he was genuinely relieved it wasn’t a hospital gown. The thought of parading around with his flat ass out in the open sparked a quick chuckle, despite himself. Humor was still in him—that had to count for something.

After changing, Star was led down yet another sterile, white hallway. It felt endless, just like the rest. He was already beginning to lose his sense of direction. Had the building looked this massive from the outside? He hadn’t gone down any stairs, so he doubted he was underground… but then again, the longer he walked, the less certain he felt.

Star shook his head sharply, trying to clear the spiral of thoughts. It’s just a drug trial, he told himself. Nothing more. His anxiety was getting the better of him. In the age of the internet, you could find a conspiracy theory for just about anything if you looked hard enough. He had to stay grounded. Positive thinking—something Bee always encouraged.

So that’s what he’d try to do. For Bee. For both of them.

Star was led back to the first room he’d seen when he arrived. Only now, it wasn’t empty.

“This is your group,” the woman said curtly. Her voice caught Star off guard—he’d almost forgotten she was still there, lost as he was in his own thoughts. “Stay in this part of the building. If a door’s locked, it’s locked for a reason.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. Just moved to one of the bunk beds, pulled a folded blanket from the cart she’d brought in, and spread it neatly across the top bunk without a word. Then she turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Star’s stomach tightened.