Mark was taken to a small room that vaguely resembled a doctor's office. He was sitting on a body length bench as he had been told to do, and looking at the various books and binders lining the shelf on the adjacent wall. One of the suited men entered.
"Lay down."
Mark didn't care for his coldness and pretended not to hear. The man reached into a pocket, and then Mark felt a most extraordinary pain for a brief second.
"Lay down."
Mark hesitantly complied this time. Suddenly, something grabbed his arms, legs, and chest. Restraints had shot out from the bed, and Mark couldn't move at all.
"I will admidinster the henodextonin."
The man brought down something like a gas mask from a pod on the ceiling, as it ominously lowered, Mark began to thrash his head around and resist.
"Don't move."
Mark ignored him and fought to avoid the mask, though his now uncomfortably long hair was getting in a mess, making it difficult to see, he even got some of it in his mouth, which made him feel like he was chocking. The suited man was not at all amused.
"Stay still!"
He landed a solid punch on Mark's face, but to his surprise, it didn't hurt much, if at all. It did get him to stop squirming for a second however, and the man grabbed his face and put the mask on after clearing away Mark's hair. Immediately, some kind of powder came through the mask, and Mark was forced to swallow it. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark could see the man fiddling with a knob on the wall, more and more powder came through the mask until Mark was almost chocking on it. It went on for nearly a minute, then the whole process was abruptly stopped.
"Adminstration successful."
The man left the room after that without taking off the restraints on Mark. He was left to struggle in them for half an hour before a suited man came in.
"I've come to take you to sleep units, don't worry, I won't treat you roughly."
This one spoke in a different voice, meaning that he probably was a different person, but Mark understandably didn't trust him at all. The man undid the restraints, and led Mark into the hall, which seem quite dark, and nearly infinite. As they walked, Marked tried his best to examine the facility, thinking that he could find an escape of some kind, but all there was to see was row after row of endless hallways crossing each other every 25 feet. The lab had to be absolutely immense.
"This way."
Mark followed the man as he entered one of the crossing hallways, and opened the door to a staircase. He led Mark down to a room full of cylinders, some of which were occupied. In particular, Mark recognized the kind girl from before, sleeping in the cylinder labeled #171.
"This is yours."
The man pointed to a cylinder in the corner, in red, a large "194" hung over it.
"Please get in."
Mark was somewhat apprehensive. Hoping for some sign of compassion, he turned to the suited man, but not sense of emotion penetrated the dark black visor of his gas mask. He only spoke with the same regretful voice.
"Please get in."
His hand slowly drifted towards a pocket, the same one the first man had used.
At that, Mark knew he had no choice, he entered the sleep unit.
"Rest well."
A barricade of thin circular tubes surrounded him as he leaned on the unit's back wall. He became tired very quickly, and soon drifted out of consciousness.
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