---
pubDate: 2021-08-20
title: Reminders
tags:
  - short-story
abstract: A short story.
table_of_contents: false
---

This morning I awoke from a restless sleep into chilling circumstances which I
am still coming to understand. I had never been to this strange room in this
barren apartment. When I first awoke, I thought that perhaps I had been brought
to a friend’s place after a night of heavy drinking, but that hope was
short-lived. I began to truly panic when I found a eerie sticky note pasted to
the wall next to my bed. It was red and scribbled with yellow ink that read:

"They seem to have mind-controlling capabilities. You've been brought here by
force. Only trust notes written with yellow on red like this one. Do not trust
anyone or anything else.”

I am still not sure where that note came from. Was this notice meant for someone
else? Who else would be expected in the apartment? Was I not meant to be there.
I tried to calm myself into thinking it must be some sort of joke, but it turns
out that theory is certainly incorrect.

In the room there was a dresser, a closet, and a desk covered in papers. The
dresser contained two pairs of black pants, one pair of jeans, two white
undershirts, eight pairs of multicolored briefs, and seven pairs of white socks.
The closet contained one black suit, two brown jackets, and two long white lab
coats. I dressed and quickly checked the apartment, as it turned out to be. I
was being kept here alone, and the front door was only locked from inside. So I
sat down to scour the papers.

Most of the papers were prints of academic research about clinical trials being
conducted on some new “arthritis pharmaceutical treatments.” I have not
uncovered the true purpose of these experiments yet. I have found that I have
some implicit expertise in understanding the jargon, although I have no
recollection other than vague memories of attending physiology classes in
undergraduate, which couldn’t possible account entirely. I am something like
40-45 years old now.

One stapled bundle of hand-written pages stood out. It had a red sticky note
attached to its top right corned, and a yellow message on it said “trust me.”
The pages described a day in the life of someone who wrote both in a style and
about a situation eerily similar to mine — someone who called themselves
“Bruce.” Many parts of it are clearly manipulative, so either Bruce is one of
'them,' or he is really trying to help me but his writing was modified.

Bruce described how he awoke in an apartment very similar to this one, except
that there were many more articles of clothing in the dresser and several pieces
of furniture that I had not found in my apartment. He had found a note on the
desk describing a strange memory loss, encounters with remnants of Neil (what
the previous occupant of the apartment called themselves) a brief synopsis of
Neil’s activities that day, and finally instructions for how Neil thought he
should properly conduct himself at work from then on. Bruce found this note
strange since it was written in a handwriting and phrasing similar to his, but
certainly not written by him because Neil’s mindset and behaviors were so
foreign. Bruce mused that he did not recognize the name "Neil," but maybe these
were notes from a coworker that he had accidentally taken home with him.

The next pages described how Bruce dressed in work attire, found a key in a
backpack, and then drove a car from out front that the key fit to the workplace
described in the notes in order to see if he could gather more information
there. Most of the employees there recognized Bruce, but they all called him by
a different name — Aaron — and couldn’t give any specific details about his
personal life or recent past. Bruce presented this observation with high
suspicion.

Eventually he found a group of scientists that claimed to be his coworkers, and
from whom he learned where to find his apparent boss. His boss called him
Jeremy, and explained that he had just been hired the previous week as an
experienced pharmaceutical chemist mainly to oversee the production of some new
drugs being tested in the arthritis treatment trials. Bruce reflected on how he
played it cool but wasn’t sure if he had aroused significant suspicion. However,
he further retrospected, that worry would be in vain.

The next few pages summarized how Bruce went to work, following his coworkers,
doing what he deduced his duties were based on the records of what was said to
be his previous duties. Everyone seemed happy his performance, but he caught
some personel giving him weird looks while talking behind his back. Bruce noted
their names and appearances but was unable to recall anything in particular they
said. Later in the day, Bruce discovered that he had a desk in a shared office.
The desk superficially had nothing of interest other than a few scattered
academic prints, which he stashed in his backpack.

The last page was a description of an ominous item that Bruce had found in the
desk drawer, way in the back behind an assortment innocent office supplies. It
was an small, old lunchbox tin. Inside was a thick plastic bag with a label
printed on the side that read in anonymous Helvetica

“Palnbuethesole. Trial only. Take one dose every 36 hours.”

The final paragraph detailed how inside the bag were exactly twenty-three small
individually-sealed plastic pouches, each with a single small white tablet with
no markings. And on the outer bag opposite the label was a green sticky-note
with red ink which hastily spelled

“Do not take. Keep safe. Find source.”

Halfway through that last paragraph, the page had clearly been torn away.
Several following pages appeared to be torn out as well, which I deduced from a
few remnant corners left in the staple. I then put the notes