Michael's footsteps echoed through the dark empty halls. He'd never seen the complex in the dark, he felt sure he'd never seen this part of the complex at all. He'd been asked to Hanks private lab. An honor, if you could call it that, only awarded thus far to Lauren. The directions given to him were dizzying. The lab was on the first floor of the complex, not too far from where Michael had entered Clintax so many weeks ago. Between him and there, sat a maze of back hallways and labs. For the first time, Michael felt the size of the complex in its entirety. The empty hallways began to feel massive, the ceilings began to vanish into the realm of shadow. Michael felt uneasy. It was a faint, but quickly overpowering, sense of dread. He couldn't explain it, but he felt watched. This feeling vanished as quickly as it had set in, as though his mind had processed he was safe, or perhaps forgotten he wasn't. He passed a massive array of labs, each one different than the last. The lights had been shut off in almost all of them, except one. Michael paused to watch it, the room felt busy, despite the lack of any workers. Inside a machine gently rocked a set of tubes filled with a black liquid. The floor was paneled with square tiles, which oscillated between on and off, filling the room with a white glow. He watched through the large glass window, the machine was oddly hypnotic. Michael held his own hand, rubbing his thumb into his palm, he couldn't explain his attraction to the machines. Before long, he'd lost ten minutes to it.

"It is interesting, isn't it?" A voice said, Echoing from the corner of the hallway.

Michael quickly whipped his head to the left, it was Hank. He was still wearing his work clothes, though he looked tired. Worn, and aged, Much like the lab coat he clung to. "Uh, yes sir!" Michael nearly shouted, fumbling over his words.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" Hank asked.

"No sir," Michael replied, calming his voice, "Just a little startled."

"Yes, it's an interesting machine." Hank continued, "It's a perpetual motion machine, Keeps the experiments in a steady state."

"Yeah..." Michael began to trail off, "That's cool... What's in those test tubes it's turning?" Michael asked, innocently.

Hank furrowed his brow, and glared into the room. It looked as though he was thinking on unfortunate news, or stewing on a bad taste in his mouth. "Just standard work," he finally said "A lot of calculation and testing. Nothing too interesting."

"Well," Michael replied, "At least it LOOKS interesting."

"Yes, it does." Hank admitted, placing his hand on Michael's shoulder. "We haven't got much time to waste though, I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise for me?" Michael said.

"I hate to spoil it," Hank replied. "But we set up a private video call with your mother."

Michael's face lit up, he hadn't seen his mother eye to eye since his arrival at Clintax, the longest they'd ever spent apart. "Really??" He asked, "Thank you!"

Hank turned to walk down the hall, gesturing for Michael to follow. Michael followed eagerly, before stopping to glance back. He didn't understand it, but there were alarms ringing in his mind, as though he'd heard something. He scanned the area, nothing. He looked back at Hank, who was nearing the elevator. That's when he heard it, a gentle rustling. It was extremely quiet, easily missed. It didn't take him long to find the source of the noise: It was a small, round, bug-like creature. It scampered along the window of the room, stopping at eye level with him. Michael couldn't help but feel a tingling fear in the back of his mind, he felt threatened, he felt as though its eyes had pierced through him.

"Michael?" Hank asked, breaking Michael's focus. "Are you coming?"

Michael turned back toward the window, whatever it was had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He joined Hank in the elevator, keeping what he'd seen to himself, for the time being at least. He wasn't sure what it was, Or if it had even been real. The way it moved, the way it breathed, it looked almost... otherworldly. Michaely shoved those thoughts aside, replacing them with focus on his mother. When the elevator doors opened, Michael was welcomed by a massive room filled with plants, and other greenery. In the corner sat a desk, with a tabletop light and computer. Rain pitter pattered against the glass roof, and the trees danced in the darkness and wind beyond them.

"Have a seat there Michael," Hank said, "I'll get the call going."

Michael sat in the desk chair, it was lowered to adjust for Hank's meager stature. Hank leaned over him and began typing. The small silver bar sitting in front of the desktop computer began to whir, and illuminate. Before long, a small cyllinder popped out of it and began releasing light Much like Hank's holograms from earlier, Yet this one was a flat, static image.

"Hello?" Michael heard through the static. He recognised that voice without question.

"Mom?" He replied.

The image began to focus, it was his mother. She looked better than he had left her, the color had returned to her skin, and her eyes looked brighter than they had in years.

"Michael! How's my darling boy?" She asked

"It's so good to hear from you!" Michael replied, embarassed he'd been called such a name infront of Hank.

"It's good to hear from you too, Son!" Michaeal's mother said, "I've missed you so much. Tell me everything, How's the work going? How're you sleeping? Are they feeding you enough?"

"It's going well, Good, and Yes they have a chef on demand for us." Michael replied, "Clintax is kind of more like a hotel than a clinic. I was pretty surprised. Anyways, My turn! How's the nurse been treating you? have you been watching our show without me? How're you feeling?"

"The nurse has been great, I wouldn't dream of it, and.. well... Better! I couldn't explain it to you, but I haven't felt this well in a long time." She replied, "Of course, I'm not at one hundred percent yet, but whatever they're doing is working, Michael... Its really working."

Michael tried to hold back and sob, instead he smiled and chuckled, "That's... really fantastic mom, I couldn't be happier."

"When you get home, we're going to the movies like we used to" she said, "I don't care what's playing, I just can't wait to spend some time with you."

"The feeling is mutual." Michael replied, "We can go to that little buffet place you used to like, too."

"Yes! I've been dying for some classic southern cooking."

"Yeah, Me too." He said, "It's been a couple years."

"Yeah it has." She replied, "But, that's coming to an end now. We can get back to how it used to be."

"I can't wait."

"Neither can I," She replied, "But They're telling me it's time to go. I'll see you soon, right?"

"Yes, of course." Michael said, "They're bringing you the facility once you're well enough."

"Yes, they'd mentioned. I can hardly wait."

"Me either," Michael said.

"Alright, I guess it's my bedtime. Sleep tight, Mikey. I love you, son."

"I love you too, Mom."

With a smile, and a wink, His mothers image vanished. The room felt quiet without her, like a photo without color.

"I'm sorry they cut your time short, Michael." Hank said, taking the empty seat next to him, "Such conversations are precious, even if they don't feel like it."

"They always feel like it." Michael replied.

"Yes," Hank said, opening his drawer, "You clearly love your mother a lot."

"Yeah," Michael agreed, "But who doesn't love their mom?"

Hank pulled out a set of mugs and a large glass bottle, "You'd be surprised."

"I don't drink." Michael said.

"It's apple cider." Hank replied, pouring a cup full and sliding it to him.

"Oh." Michael aaid, "Sorry, Thank you."

"I appreciate all the work you've put in." Hank said, sipping the cider.

"Thanks," Michael replied, "It really isn't super hard."

"Well, in any case, It's appreciated." Hank chuckled, "But I was hoping you'd be able to put in just a little more."

"Oh, of course." Michael said.

"Well," Hank continued, reaching back into the drawer, "What I meant to ask was if you'd mind giving me blood now." He pulled out a small silver canister, Michaels mind likened it to a staple gun, with a needle on its end. "It's just for a little after-hours project."

"Sure, if it'll help more people like it's helped my mom." he replied.

"Excellent," Hank exclaimed, "I appreciate your commitment to our cause. We get closer to success every day." Hank took a sanitary wipe and rubbed off Michael's forearm, then pressed the needle in. Michael winced at the jab, despite doing this nearly every day. The container began filling slowly as Hank relieved his grip on it.

"It's no trouble," Michael said, "Honestly, after seeing how quick it's turned my mom around, I'm a firm believer in what you're doing here."

Hank chuckled and nodded, "You mean what we're doing here." The vile filled, and Hank removed the neddle from Michaels arm. "You're a part of this too, none of it's possible without you."

"Still," Michael said, "Thank you."

Hank smiled, "You'd best get back to bed." He said.

"Right, thanks again." Michael replied,

"No Michael," Hank retorted, "Thank you."

Michael climbed into the elevator silently, the dimly lit room gave him time to think. He couldn't forget what he'd seen, if he'd even seen it. He couldn't forget those eyes, those horrible yellow eyes.