An alarm clock with possibly the most annoy alarm I've ever heard, wakes me up at ridiculously early time for a Saturday morning. Lazily, I slap my hand down on my bedside table in random spots, trying to turn it off. But as consciousness fills more of my mind, I'm able to think clearly enough that I can work out the noise isn't coming beside me, it's coming behind me.

I groan and flop my head back down onto my pillow. Not a great start to the day. Somehow, I manage to drag myself out from under my warm cocoon of blankets to turn off this sleep-ruiner for good.

The pair of pants I wore yesterday lie crumpled in a messy pile near the door. I snatch them up quickly. The sound's coming from the pocket. It takes me a second before my foggy brain finally clicks out of it's stupor. Moving Monolith's object, the one he gave me, is guilty of making this racket.

I stumble backwards until I'm half sitting on my bed, object in hand. It looks the same as it did yesterday. Except, I'm sure there wasn't a tiny flashing neon yellow light next to the vine things engraved on it.

I gently run the tip of my thumb over it, only to whip it back up to my chest at phenomenal speeds, "ow!" Seems it's gotten hotter too. I stick my thumb in my mouth, considering what my next course of action should be. Leave it or stick it in a bucket of icy water? With a bit of luck, it might help to drown out that consistent beeping.

A part of me wishes I had asked Moving Monolith for his phone number. Don't get me wrong, he's the last guy I want to see again. But if I had a way to contact him, I'd at least be able to ask him what the heck was going on.

"Scan complete. Please stay still."

               I stop filling up the bowl I'd gotten with cold water and turn around in the direction of my bedroom. That was definitely a voice. A suspiciously robotic voice.

"What the–?" I mutter under my breath. That little yellow light flashing on the object before, has managed to encase the whole thing in some sort of yellow bubble. My jaw unhinges itself as I watch small rivets of electricity dance and pop inside the yellow bubble layer. Okay, that can't be good.

"Repeat; please stay still." The object has replaced it's irritating beeping with an even more irritating voice. I take a step backwards, "repeat; please stay still." I step back again. "Wormhole will open in one-point-three seconds. Please stay still to minimise chance of entering incorrectly." I freeze. What?!

True to it's word, a second passes before the yellow bubble expands and pops in one mighty crack. Next thing I know, the ground my feet were once comfortably planted on disappears into a void of nothingness. I'm falling. Again. Just like when I went to Arth, the wind has no trouble glueing my eyes closed. I half wonder whether that's where I'm going again. To Arth. It makes sense. The object came from there and it's now opened up some mystical portal of its own. But if I'm going by that logic, then it also stands to reason that I'll soon be reunited with Moving Monolith himself. Great.

Once again, like last time, the moment my feet make contact with the ground I'm lurching about the place like some circus performer who's got their act wrong. Although I am proud to say I don't crash into any tables this time.

"Hello Phillip." A cold voice says to my right. I finish doing a final wobble without falling over completely, then look up. A lady stands in an immaculate white suit. She's tall but with the high silver heels she's got on, she makes herself a lot more intimidating. She's got a long thin nose and light blonde hair streaked with thick patches of greying silver. Overall she looks very . . . clean. Like, unnaturally clean.

"Uh, hi?" I once read a article published by the Facto Wannabes on how you can appear to be a person deserving respect when you keep your facial features blank and never slouch. There was more but I don't remember them. I'm not sure how reliable that information is, considering the authors name. Still I make sure to stand proud in my stripy blue and white pyjamas.

"Follow me." The lady turns in a perfect one-eighty-degree turn to stand perfectly in the centre of a creamy coloured hallway. The place reeks of bleach. Is this a hospital?

"So, what–what exactly am I doing here?" I ask, jogging to keep up with her massive strides.

"I am not here to answer your inquiries. I suggest you keep your mouth closed until we arrive at our destination."

I pause for a moment. If one of my captives have already traveled over that invisible border into the lands of irritation, then my chances traveling to home sweet home have already decreased.

There's a lot I want to ask her. But just like when Moving Monolith choosing between ending my life or letting me go, it's probably best to say nothing at all. We walk through a lot of different halls. If I ever manage to run away, I'm guaranteed to get lost pretty quick. The place is a labyrinth! Still, walking through half the building shows me that the place isn't quite a hospital, more a high-tech laboratory. I just hope they aren't looking for their next lab rat.

Eventually, the lady turns in front of a pastel orange door. The letters P.J engraved on to it. The woman doesn't bother to knock. She smoothly swings the door open in one fluent motion before advancing onwards all without breaking her stride once. "He is here. Request when I am needed." She doesn't spare me glance before turning and leaving.

I wait for her to shut the door, then I look around for who she was talking to. I'm in one of the labs. Difference between here and everywhere else is that there's a lot of mess here. Wires, cables and other important looking chunks of hardware fill large open crates. Some spill out in metallic puddles across the carpet-less floor. Layers upon layers of blueprints stack against each other on the benches and in the corner of the room closest to me. The back half of the room is filled with strange technical looking machines. They almost look a bit like pofflers. Almost.

"You'll get used to her." I watch as a man covered in grease pulls himself out from underneath one of the machines. He's got dark shaggy hair and doesn't look like he's taken a bath in weeks. He nods his head to where the woman just left.

"I-I will?" I mentally cringe. I had to stutter, didn't I? I'm sure the guy meant his comment to be nice. Reassuring. Hate to say it, but I'm not even slightly reassured. Getting used to her means staying here in the foreseeable future. The man gives me a sympathetic smile. I change the topic quickly. "So is everyone here like her?"

"Dawn? Some. Most aren't. She's an android in case you were wondering. That's why she's a little . . . insensitive."

"Ooh–wait what?!" I stare at him in shock. "An android?"

"Yeah. We make advanced technology here. Dawn and her siblings are just that. They help us out a lot. We gave them all the emotions, just didn't give the full force of some of them such as anger, fear—" I think he's about to list some more emotions. Unfortunately I don't get to hear it because I've just crashed into a pile of cables heaped up into a pile of sorts on the floor.

"Sorry about the mess, by the way." The man apologises while he helps me re-stack it again.

"It's not too bad. I don't mind it." I've said it before, I don't normally happen to be in situations like this one. That means I'm no expert on this kinda stuff. But complimenting my kidnapper seems like the way to go.

"I hope not. This is, after all, your lab." It takes a moment for me to understand what he's saying. But when it hits, it hits hard. P.J, those are my initials: Phillip Johnson. This is my parallel twin's work space.