By the time a gentle chime fills the pod at dawn to wake us, I've been awake for at least an hour. Adrenaline is already pumping through my veins, in spite of the fact that I've been trying to meditate like Jo taught me.

Once I use the restroom, the panels shift to allow me access to the kitchen area. As I make coffee and toast, I brush my fingers under the lip of the food dispenser. The pen is gone.

Through the glass, I can see Mikao and Ciara getting ready. They both give me nods of acknowledgment, but say little, even when we are all in the living area, scrolling through the daily update Strand has sent to each of our tablets.

"Do we all go to Dr. Rodriguez together?" I ask.

Ciara shrinks into herself, but Mikao meets my gaze. "The schedule varies every day. Today is Ciara's day of rest. I'm going to be working with Dr. Rodriguez after lunch."

"And I'm going this morning."

"I look forward to hearing your findings later," Mikao says. "Together we can take our small successes and build them into something more significant. I believe that."

I try to read between the lines of Mikao's words, wishing that we could have even one conversation without Big Brother listening in on every word. Both today and yesterday, he mentioned how minimal his powers were. I decide to follow his lead and play down my abilities as much as I can.

Mikao's warm eyes meet mine. "No matter what comes today, let it flow over you. Let go of control, and know that everything has an end."

His words are clearly meant to comfort me, but they have the opposite effect. I swallow my rising panic and remind myself of my mission. Everything I endure has a purpose, because it will save lives and show the world what Strand truly is.

The panels shift, and I follow the blue lights in the floor to the far wall of the pod, where a white door slides open. When I step through, I'm hit with a blast of air so cold that it makes me gasp.

Inside, there is a wall of monitors that are all currently dark. Three beds are beneath the monitors, and each one has straps to hold down arms, legs and neck.

Other medical equipment is placed throughout the room, much of which I don't recognize, other than an Incubus that looks like a newer model than the one we had at the Bunker. At least if Dr. Rodriguez goes too far with his experiments, patients can be healed. I shiver. This laboratory has none of the serene vibes of the clinic back at the Chrysalis.

One corner of the room is sealed off with glass. Inside it is an oak desk that looks out of place in the sterile space. It's bare other than two more monitors that face away from me, and a tablet. Hopefully Marie's sifting through the information on that tablet right now.

A tall man with a receding hairline wearing a white lab coat enters through a door behind the desk, and my body tenses, ready for battle. Dr. Rodriguez looks thinner than I remember, and I hope that the stress of losing his R&D center and having his crimes published in Ida's newsfeed has taken a toll on him.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" I ask him, hoping to throw him off his game. "You never did get the chance to show your appreciation after I saved your miserable life."

He cocks his head to the side, examining me like I'm a specimen under his microscope, and then jots a note on his tablet. "Many of the Genetic Replicants with your variant have higher rates of aggression than your less gifted peers. Though there are exceptions."

If I'd hoped to rile him, I've failed. But I'm no quitter. "Do you miss murdering babies, now that all you get to do is torture adults, asshole?"

"It is unfortunate that sometimes a few rats die in the pursuit of science, but I remind myself of the greater good. And you will address me as 'sir' or 'doctor', Joan. Respect is important."

My body trembles with repressed rage. If Dr. Rodriguez wasn't protected by those glass walls, I'm not sure if I could stop myself from physically attacking him.

"Fuck you. I think I'll stick with calling you an asshole."

He makes another note on his tablet, and I swear that I see a grin flash across his face. He's enjoying our interaction.

"Let's get started."

A panel beside me slides open, and a tall, muscled man wearing blue scrubs steps through. His eyes are very blue, and very cold.

"Strap the specimen to the table, please, Dr. Averys."

I move toward one of the beds. "I'm not going to fight you."

Neither man replies, and I let Dr. Averys strap my arms, legs and neck to the table. My heart gallops in my chest as he attaches sensors to my temples and palms. He then rolls over an IV stand with a bag of yellowish fluid hanging from it and inserts a needle into my arm.

"What are you dosing me with?" I ask.

When he doesn't answer, I send the message again with the added power of the mind manipulator. The man frowns, but he still doesn't answer. Yellow fluid flows down the tube and into my arm. Before I can hit him with the mind manipulator again, the fluid hits my bloodstream, and everything goes dark.

***

My return to consciousness comes slowly. A restless energy thrums through me, pooling in my stomach. My body is cold, and my eyes feel as if they have been glued shut.

I feel a light tap on my forehead, followed by a cold trickle of liquid sliding down my cheek. I manage to wrench my eyes open, but all I can make out is a bright light shining on my face. There's another tap on my forehead.

Something is dripping on the center of my forehead.

"Hello?" I croak. "I think something is leaking."

I try to turn my head to see if Dr. Rodriguez or his evil partner are lurking somewhere, but they've wedged my head between two stiff pillows in such a way that I can't move. This time I see the drops following, one right after the next.

Drip. Drip.

The drops hit my forehead and then flow down into my eye, but the liquid doesn't sting.

"Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

After a longer interval this time, another trip plummets through the air. Drip.

I swallow down a rising dread. Even though the logical part of me knows that it's pointless, some primitive, animal part of my brain struggles against my restraints.

"Let me out! I'm done."

Drip.

"Stop it!"

Drip.

Free me. Now! I repeat the thought over and over through the mind manipulator, but I don't know if there is anyone in the room to receive the command. I don't hear so much as a whisper of sound, other than when the droplet of water hits my head.

I try to yank my head to one side or the other, but only manage to choke myself on the neck restraint. What the hell is happening? Where am I? Is this some kind of weird torture, or are those two sadists on lunch break?

A particularly fat drop hurtles down and splashes on my forehead.

To pass the time, I try counting the seconds between each drop. Sometimes they come one right after the other, and other times it takes almost a full minute.

In between each drop, my dread grows in anticipation of the next cold splash on my forehead. My breaths come shallow and fast. I try to remember the meditation techniques Jo taught me, but my mind refuses to focus, waiting for the next drop to hit.

I finally set my pride aside. "If this is some sort of technique to bring out my abilities, it's not working! Try something else!"

Drip.

"Let me out of these restraints, and I'll try to summon a vision. That's what you want, right?"

No one answers, and I yank on my restraints as hard as I can. They cut into my wrists and ankles so hard that I can feel the wet slide of my blood against the straps. Over and over again, I send commands through the mind manipulator, but it's either malfunctioning or there's no one here to be influenced.

I scream until my voice starts giving out, but there is no reply. All I can hear is the beating of my own heart, and the tiny ping of water hitting my skin.

My vision winks out, and I see Harriet sitting in her office. I try to focus on her face, and the words she's speaking, but I can't help wincing as each new drop makes contact with my forehead.

This is Chinese water torture. It's an ancient technique used to cause a psychic break in the victim. They want to destroy your mind, Joan, but you're too strong to break. Especially not with us behind you. You're going to spend the day with me. I won't leave you until this is over. And it has to end sometime.

A whimper leaves my throat, and warm tears seep out of my eyes and trickle into my hair. I'm not alone. Harriet's words remind me of what Mikao said this morning. Everything has an end.

Blocking out the water as best as I can, I watch as Harriet takes me on a silent tour of the Chrysalis. She takes me to Marie's lab, where she's working with a team to download as much data as possible from Dr. Rodriguez's server.

Next, we go to the Chrysalis gym, where Mav, Jin and Blu are practicing their self-defense moves. Mason and Kat make an appearance, demonstrating basic blocks that even kids can use if they are under attack. No one appears to be suffering from severe symptoms of H2IV yet, which means they have access to enough antidote to keep them healthy for now.

Floor by floor, Harriet shows me all the activity going on outside this room I'm in now, out in the real world. I try to focus on what she shows me, but my body can't ignore those cold drops of water hitting my skin. It feels as if they're getting heavier each time, though I know that has to be a trick of my mind.

As the hours pass, my body grows more and more tired, but there is no way that sleep will claim me as each drop hits my forehead with the force of a nail being driven into my skin.

At one point, I vomit. I have to spit it from my mouth, unable to even turn my head to get it all out. My vision goes in and out, and I struggle to focus on the vid. Instead, I imagine my brain with deep cracks spiderwebbing all over it. With each drop of water, the cracks grow a little deeper. What will happen when they finally break apart?

That's when Harriet takes me to the Chrysalis clinic. Justus and Flo are doing some kind of chemistry lesson. I can tell from how tense Justus's body is that this isn't what he wants to be doing. He's playing a part to keep my mind occupied.

His steady fingers carefully pour liquids into different beakers. Every now and then he looks straight into the camera, and his face reminds me of home. Just like she has been all day, Harriet is also in my line of sight. Her warm brown eyes remind me that all of this is for a purpose.

With their help, I hang on to my sense of self as each minute passes. But how much longer will I last until my mind caves into the pressure of each new drop of water?