It wasn't every day that you were trapped by a forcefield in someone's bedroom.

Mari still hadn't gotten over the forcefield part. Every now and then she would poke her finger at the invisible barrier, the edges of her mouth breaking out into an uncontrollable grin.

The young man wasn't here to see it, having left the room after saying a few incomprehensible words. Mari was alone in the quiet room, lounging the floor in her pyjamas.

But inside, her mind was racing. The force field, and her situation in general, had implications. The presence of force field made it clear that her kidnappers were very well-resourced.

The question was, why would people powerful enough to own a noiseless, subtly installed forcefield keep their captive trapped on the floor of an elaborately detailed bedroom? For what purpose? Just for shits and giggles?

Surely not.

There had to be a reason why all of this was happening. The moment you threw away causality was the moment you started going insane. Of course, she could be insane, or hallucinating, or having a really, really wild and vivid dream, but she couldn’t continue on the basis of such assumptions. No, she needed to be logical.

So. Back to the issue on hand:

It hadn't been enough to physically confine her in the traditional dingy basement. Her kidnappers went to all this effort because...they wanted something more.

The first thing her mind went to was sex trafficking.

"Shit."

It's actually quite likely, her cold, logical side said. We should explore our options should the possibility occur.

Mari fought to keep her fear and panic down.

Or we could...think about it a little later. Her self-defense mechanisms kicked in. Worse-case hypotheticals will just breed more anxiety. Let's calm down first.

Mari's protective mechanisms won out. She tabled the...daunting prospects...and forged on to other possibilities.

Ahem. Assuming that our current environment is part of a behavioral experiment....

Mari could think of 3 possibilities:

A) She was the test subject because she was a special buttercup.

B) The kid was the test subject because he was the special buttercup.

C) Neither the kid or she herself were special, or buttercups; they just happened to be one of the many people being experimented on.

Mari sat up with a sigh, then shuffled to lean back against the force field, deep in thought.

Option A) seemed unlikely. It might just be her low self-esteem talking, but Mari didn't think she was anything special. She was plain old Mari Su, 24 years old, half Asian half Australian, Christian, single, recently acquired a job as a mathematical programmer at a run-of-the-mill, honest-to-God logistics company. She wasn't a genius by any means, nor did she have any particular talents....well, she was pretty damn good at knitting socks, but somehow she didn't think that was relevant here.

She also didn't know any condifidential or important information. Which ruled out her current predicament from being any sort of real-life spy movie scenario.

Moving on.

Option B) was a strong contender. The kid definitely seemed worthy of being a test subject. Purple eyes, wierd clothes, and speaking in a strange language was usually indicatory that something... abnormal was going on.

Now wait a moment - our indignant reader protests - surely the main character wouldn't be so dumb as to think that anyone who dresses and speaks differently to her is abnormal!

....Our reader need not worry. Being a mix of two cultures herself, our main character was very much aware of cultural differences.

But that was the problem. Mari knew what Central Asians spoke like. (Why she knew is a story for another day). She also was familiar with the Mediterranean languages - a natural benefit from growing up in a multicultural country. And what the kid spoke sounded nothing like either.

Now factor in the obviously unnatural purple eyes plus clothes that looked more like cosplay than cultural garb. Add the strange insistence to speak a different language, and the label 'cosplay wierdo' didn't sound that unreasonable, did it?

Of course, she could be wrong. Mari started to debate the likelihood of a niche middle-eastern language with different linguistic roots, or the poor kid getting kidnapped halfway through a non-English-speaking con-

When suddenly the door opened. Mari looked up from her mental rabbithole with a start.

It was just the kid. She let out a small sigh of relief at the familiar figure. Somehow, Mari didn't feel threatened by him. He was lanky, sleep-deprived and looked like a cosplaying wierdo, but his eyes were calm and intelligent - they held no trace of lustful passion, or cruelty. The way his eyes moved, his body language showed no sign of person who was inclined to...force someone. Mari had met calculating, manipulative people before, and she didn't place this kid as one. He was harmless.

Or a really good actor.

The kid coughed awkwardly.

Yes, somehow Mari had dubbed this person, her only source of information and potential ally in her helpless predicament....'the kid'. He wasn't even that much younger than her.

Breaking off from that train of thought, Mari noticed for the first time that the kid was carrying a tray, topped with a filled plated, utensils and a cup. Her stomach growled obligingly, reminding her that it never did get that promised butterscotch slice...

As the kid lowered the food towards her, Mari noticed a discrepancy in the food's colour scheme. The potato-things were a deep blue hue, what looked like meat was bright orange and the unidentifiable vegetables(?) were a shock of pink and luminescent green. To top it off, the murky liquid in the cup was giving off a sick red glow.

Mari winced.

"Okay. Evil mastermind or not, that's just messed up."