Rokus and Terrence stood in the observation room, behind the one-way glass. They had just sent the bat-headed nurse to deliver a grilled cheese sandwich to Dennis, who was gripped tight by an episode of Tales of the Unexpected on the television.
“What year is it?” asked the nurse, kindly.
“Hmm?” said Dennis, not moving his eyes from the television.
“The year, what is it?” said the nurse, her snout twitching compassionately.
“Ummm… 2025,” Dennis replied around mouthfuls of hot cheese.
Behind the glass, Terrence winced. Rokus threw his clipboard down in anger. “Shit!” exclaimed Rokus, pacing the observation room with his head in his hands.
“Calm down, my good man,” Terrence soothed. “A mere bump in the road, we’ll get him a can of lager, see if he’ll ping the ringpull, take it from there.”
“And if he doesn’t, or he does, and it just sparks echoes?”
“Then we’ll reset and go again. Bring the nurse back.”
Rokus punched a button and the nurse left the room.
Dennis continued to fixate on the television, cheese grease dripping on his vest. Out of sight, he sneaked a small amount of toast to the robotic spider under his chair.