A guard tossed me into a room. Inside were people marked 15, 11, 42 and others with marks on their bodies. It looked like one had just finished a speech. The door closed behind me with a loud screech. The lights were starting to hurt my eyes. I shut of a series of lights and sat in a corner. One of the people stated "I'm 1-"
"I know, 15. No, I'm not reading your mind."
Someone else with dots on her eyelids mumbled "we're planning. Come over here."
I shook my head and in a thick Russian accent asked "why do you care?" I looked around the room and found where the pain was coming from. Someone was prying into my mind. I jumped into their head and made then fall backwards. He got back up, a bit furious. I yelled "try that again! Go on, try it!"
15 whispered "so, you're 52."
The camera stared at 52 intently. A new chief pycologist was in, staring at the screen. He gave me a thumbs up. Apparently, we're on the right track to re-programmeing him. As long as he doesn't see the number, we're fine. If he does, though... results could be interesting. Maybe he'll go on a killing spree again. Don't really want to call in Savanna again. It was embarrasing enough last time.