The next day it's the treadmill. They drag me off to the observation room and a wire me up with a bunch of sensors that run from my bald head to a panel in the ceiling, then stand back and watch as I run on the spot, occasionally noting stuff down on their handhelds.
It's slow at first, and even though my bones still ache from yesterday's injection, I'm able to keep up the pace. My form is terrible, more staggering than it is running, but it's hard to care about stuff like that. I watch myself in the one-way mirror on the opposite wall: a skinny, pale-looking sixteen year old girl, head shaved and blue eyes rimmed with sleepless red. The pace of the treadmill increases slightly. I grit my teeth and run faster.
At half an hour, the pain in my legs and hips has got to such a point that I can't run anymore. I push myself for as long as I can, but it's no good, and I have to step down. As soon as I do the warden's there. A sharp, burning sensation around my kidneys and I'm lying on the floor, jerking and twitching. He plucks the sensors from my skin, cuffs my hands together with a plastic tie, then drags me to the far wall.
The scientists huddle together and make notes, and I catch some murmurs about "muscle-mass" and "endurance". I don't care. The breath in my lungs is so hot it burns and I feel shuddery and sick. Sweat prickles on my back and legs beneath my overalls. The warden's watching me with a look of disgust on his face.
They let me rest for half an hour, and then I'm back on the treadmill again. Again I run until I can't anymore, then step down. The warden shocks me, cuffs me, drags me away. This time he pulls the plastic tie so tight that it bites my skin. Half an hour later I'm back on the treadmill again, shuffling along, blood dripping slowly down my wrist. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. The place on my back where the warden shocked me hurts. I feel like a hole's been bored in my throat with a rusty drill.
Finally, I can't run another step. This time, when I come off the treadmill my legs give way and I collapse in a heap on the floor. My knees feel loose. Cramps shoot through my stomach and legs, twisting the muscles into screaming knots. The warden bundles me onto my front and secures my hands behind my back, then yanks me to my feet. But my legs won't work. I feel dizzy. Shooting pains in my feet.
"Oh for fuck's sake," says the warden, and hauls me up from the floor for a second time. "Walk," he bellows into my face. "Walk or I shock you."
Somehow, somehow, I manage to make myself walk.
