He takes me to a large room full of weights, running machines and other exercise equipment, along with some strange, suspicious-looking monitors with wires - with suction pads on the ends - hanging off them. The man strides over to the running machine and I follow meekly, the servant following her master. He attaches pads to my temples, upper arms, thighs, and everywhere else that is not swathed in bandage.
"On." He commands. I climb on to the running machine and he starts it up. It is going slow, a pace I can easily walk at. But then he turns it up, and up, and up until I am running full tilt just to stay on the machine. But strangely, I am not out of breath, and my heartbeat feels totally normal, even though my limbs are pumping and my hair whipping.
"Phenomenal." He says to himself. "90 mph, and not even a bead of sweat." He turns it up again, and again and again, until my limbs are moving so fast they are almost a blur. This feels good! It feels natural, and amazing. I am almost hovering on the spot. Any faster and I might blur completely.
How am I doing this? I think, mystified. I am pretty sure most teenage girls can't even run fifteen hundred metres at a jog without walking, and yet here I am, running at speeds of over 90 mph.. Then I look over at the man and he has a malicious expression of triumph on his face, and immediately I know this is his doing. Somehow, he has given me super speed..