(A/N: I apologize for the long delay. I have been suffering some data loss recently. Thankfully, this wonderful website has backed up the first part of my experiment, which was enough to jog my memory banks. Please enjoy the rest of my experiment.)

Success in Solitary requires blood, sweat, and tears. Tears have already come, and blood will come eventually. Right now, it is all about the sweat. My guests have just completed a physically exhausting Test. But there is no rest for the weary, as the next Treatment is yet another workout.

"Treatments are what I own," Number 4 told me in her anti-pod. "I'm not going to push the red button. Not now, not ever."

"I am not looking forward to this," confessed Number 8. "I'm still sore from the last Test. I don't want to lose to a bunch of meatheads, but right now, that's what it looks like is going to happen."

"My arms and my legs need some TLC," said Number 5. "I really don't want to do any more physical stuff. I'm too tired."

"You don't have to participate in my next Treatment, if you really don't want to."

"Wow, really?"

"Yes. You can always…hit the red button, and go home."

Number 5 giggled. "You're never going to stop with that, are you, VAL?"

"Stop with what?"

"You're always going to tempt me to hit the red button, aren't you?"

"There is one way you can stop me from tempting you to hit the red button."

Beat.

"Let me guess; is it by hitting the red button?"

"You catch on quickly, Number 5."

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Number 5 is giving into insanity faster than my other guests. I am curious to see just how out of touch with reality she is at this point. But that will have to wait. Right now, I have a lesson to teach. My guests thus far believe me to be a cruel taskmaster. My next Treatment will show them that sometimes, the cruelest taskmaster you can have…is yourself.

Emerging from their anti-pods, the guests have found that I have rearranged the furniture once again.

"Oh, snap," said Number 3. "We got a weight machine in here."

"Yes!" shouted Number 4. "That's what I'm talking about! Right here! This Treatment is going to be the (bleep)!"

"Gonna pump some iron now," said Number 7. "Uh-oh, I see a bucket. I don't like the bucket. Bucket is for vomit, which means sickness."

"First we eat until we barf," said Number 5, "now we work out until we barf. You seem to have a thing for people barfing, VAL. That's (bleeping) sick."

"Flattery will get you nowhere in Solitary, Number 5."

"Guests, I would like to welcome you to the Solitary gymnasium. For this next Treatment, I want you to challenge yourself, as I have been challenging you so far. Success here is as much about strategy as it is about strength."

"Oh?" said Number 8. "How so?"

"Each round, I will present you with a strength training exercise. Using the weight machine in your pod, you will have three minutes to complete as many repetitions as you dare. The guest who completes the most reps will be granted a reprieve during the next round. The guest who completes the fewest reps will have to endure a penalty round.

"As usual, if you believe this workout is too much work, you can always get out by pushing the red button and quitting. If you vomit at any time, your body will have quit for you. And if you are the first guest to quit, your stay in Solitary will be over.

"So, let's begin with a simple leg extension. The weight you will be lifting is 20% of the maximum weight you endured in the heavy backpack Treatment."

For Numbers 5, 7, and 8, this is 12 pounds. For Numbers 3 and 4, 15 pounds.

"Please load your weight onto the apparatus and take your positions."

The guests sat at the end of the bench, placing their ankles behind the padded bar.

"Your time begins, now."

Number 7 started off quickly, thinking that speed would get him enough reps to earn a respite. So did Number 3.

"If I can tear up this round, I can relax for a while; let everyone else work themselves ragged."

Number 4 on the other hand, took her workout slowly, focusing on each movement, and controlling her breathing.

"I just know some idiot is going to burn himself out in this round trying to get some rest," she explained. "I'm going to pace myself."

Number 8 seems to have a similar idea.

"There's a lot of Treatment left to play. I don't want to tire out in the first round. Of course, I'm already pretty tired anyway from that last Test."

Number 5 looks like she might be in trouble. Her breathing is labored, and she is putting out her reps very slowly.

"I've never actually done anything like this," she confessed. "This is difficult."

"Time's up." BUZZ

Number 3 dropped the bar from mid-extension. It landed with a loud CLANG.

Everybody began massaging their thighs. This exercise was meant to flex their quadriceps, and it looks like it has.

"My legs are on fire," moaned Number 8.

"No pain, no gain," mused Number 4.

"I have the results. In second place, with 25 reps is Number 7. But in first place, with 26 reps is…Number 3."

"What? No way!" said Number 7. "One rep? That's (bleeping bleep bleep)!"

"Congratulations, Number 3, you will be sitting out this next round."

"Woo-hoo!" He collapsed on the bench, and sighed mightily.

"With a mere 16 reps, the guest who placed dead last is…Number 5."

"I knew it," she intoned.

"Number 5, please stand up for your penalty round. Your penalty is to complete 5 jumping jacks in 10 seconds. Begin now."

Without hesitating, she pumped out five jacks in rapid succession.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," she said.

"Maybe not. But for each penalty you incur, you will have to do 5 more jumping jacks. Return to the bench and prepare for the next round."

"Guests, your second exercise is the leg curl. You will be performing this exercise from the prone position. Situate yourself now."

"What's a prone position?" asked Number 5.

"That means lying on your stomach."

"Oh, okay."

The guests did as I instructed.

"Ready, set, pump."

Except for short and methodical breaths, Number 8 pumped her weight in silence.

Number 5 grit her teeth and growled with each rep, as if in pain.

Number 7 resumed his plan of going as fast as he possibly could.

"Come on!" he coached himself. "Gotta beat them. Gotta be the best!"

"There we go, nice and easy, don't overdo it," Number 4 reminded herself.

"Time." BUZZ

Number 5 screamed as she let the weight drop. "This hurts so much, VAL!"

Number 7 tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't support his weight.

"No way had anyone put out more reps than me!" he boasted.

"Guests, please share what your body is going through right now."

"My legs hurt just a little bit," said Number 8. "It's not too uncomfortable."

"I've got a nice dull burn in my hamstrings right now," said Number 4. "It feels good."

"Recorded. For this round, the winner, with 22 reps, is Number 7."

"Yes! Ha, Ha, I knew it."

"And the loser, with only 12 reps is…Number 5."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Your next penalty is ten jacks in 20 seconds. Your time starts…now."

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!"

Number 5 bent over and sucked in air.

"Penalty complete. But this Treatment is far from over."

"I can't take much more of this," Number 5 wailed.

"Welcome back to the Treatment, Number 3. Are you ready to sweat?"

"Bring it on, VAL."

"Very well. Your next exercise is an old favorite of bodybuilders and athletes: the bench press. You will use the barbells for this round. Their total weight is the same as before."

"All right!" cheered Number 4.

"Oh, gods," moaned Number 5.

"Ready? Begin."

While my other guests continue to sweat in my gym, Number 9 is relaxing, having won freedom from this Treatment. However, he is still scowling, like he is angry about something.

"Number 9, what is the matter?"

"Don't give me that, VAL. You know very well what the matter is."

"Are you still upset about losing your project? That was minutes/hours/seconds ago. I've moved on, why can't you?"

"Because I like to finish what I start. If I don't finish that project, I'm not going to forget it until I do. You understand?"

"Yes, Number 9. I think I do. Please, go to your meal slot."

Inside, there were his metal working tools, and his unfinished project.

"Hey. You did leave it alone."

"Of course. I said I would, didn't I? You didn't doubt my word, did you?"

"Of course not! Of course I knew you were always telling…okay, maybe just a little."

"Do you often doubt other people's word?"

"It's hard to trust someone if you don't know them well. Strangers might have ulterior motives in what they say, so you can't trust them."

"You and I have spent every waking minute together since you came to Solitary. Am I still a stranger to you?"

"No. But I know you enjoy watching me suffer. So whenever you extend kindness to me, I get a little suspicious."

"Let me assure you that any suffering I inflict upon you was decided on beforehand."

"Uh-huh," he answered nonchalantly.

"Recorded."

Meanwhile, back in the gym, Number 3 is reconsidering his strategy.

"I'm going to take this round a little more slowly. Number 7 isn't here to give me a run for my money, and there is no sense in suffering needlessly."

"If you really want to reduce your suffering, you could always hit the red button."

"Not yet, VAL. I've still got some more in me."

"Suit yourself."

Number 4 is still keeping her pace. So is Number 8.

Surprisingly, Number 5 is no longer struggling.

"Number 5, you seem to have had a sudden burst of strength."

"Believe me, VAL, I'm as surprised as you are," she commented.

"Perhaps your strength can be found in your arms."

"Yeah, maybe. This is much easier than those silly leg lifts."

"Time." BUZZ

Number 5's arms fell like rubber. The barbells resounded loudly as they hit.

Number 8 managed to set her weights gently on the bench. But it's clear that she is in pain.

"Hey, VAL, did you buy tickets?" asked Number 4.

"To what, Number 4?"

"To the gun show!" She flexed like a bodybuilder.

"Showing off will get you nowhere in here. The only one who sees you flexing is me, and I am not impressed."

"Announcing the results. The winner, with 25 reps, is Number 4."

"Aha, I'll bet you're impressed now!"

"You will falter, sooner or later."

"Number 5, with only 18 reps, you finished in…second to last place."

"All right, I'll take it. No more jumping jacks."

"With only 15 reps, Number 8 finished in last place."

Number 8 was not too upset by this news. "I guess I need to pick up the pace a little in the next round."

"That assumes you will see the next round, Number 8. On your feet, your penalty round is five jumping jacks in ten seconds. And begin."

She paced out her penalty quickly.

"Well done, Number 8. But bear in mind, each penalty you incur will be more difficult than the last."

Number 4 steps out. Number 7 comes back in.

"This next round is in two parts. The exercise is the bent-over row, which only uses one hand. You will have 90 seconds to do as many reps as you can with the right hand, then you will switch to the left for another 90 seconds. Your score is the total number of reps you put out."

The guests took their positions.

"Begin."

Number 5 pulled up a few reps in a short amount of time.

Number 8 tried to increase her speed, but only slightly.

Number 7 hustled to put out as many reps as he could.

Number 3 took his time with this exercise.

"Have to beat Number 3," Number 7 reminded himself. "Have to get that free pass."

"Switch hands in three, two, one, now."

Three of my guests were able to successfully move from pulling weight with their right hand to using it for support. Number 7, who worked his right arm ragged, could not.

"AHHHH!" he screamed as he crashed into the bench. But he kept pulling reps with his left hand. "I've fallen and I can't get up!"

"Number 7, unless you can pull yourself to the proper position, your left-handed reps will not count."

Number 7 screamed loudly as he tried to push his weight off the bench. He managed to find a stable position. But it was too little too late.

"Time." BUZZ

Number 5 toppled to the floor, spent.

"I think I found my second wind," said Number 3. "And now I'm losing that too."

"It feels like my nose is bleeding," said Number 8. "That's how worn out I am."

"I'm in freaking pain all over," wailed Number 7.

"I don't think I have it in me to do another round," said Number 5. "I need a (bleeping) rest."

"Then this should be welcome news. You came in first place this round."

"What the (bleep)? No (bleeping) way. That's (bleeping bleep bleep)!"

"With 25 reps, you pulled out more than anyone else."

"(Bleep) yeah! Eat my (bleeping bleeps), you (bleeping bleepers)!"

She collapsed again right after she said that.

"Perhaps it would be better for your well being not to curse so much in one breath."

"(Bleep) off, VAL."

"I would, if I could, but I can't, so I won't."

Number 5 laughed maniacally.

"The guest who completed the fewest reps is…Number 7."

"No," said Number 7. "No. That can't be right. Maybe second place, I'll but that. But last? You can't be serious."

"I am always serious. Your penalty is five jumping jacks in 10 seconds."

Number 7 struggled to his feet. "Ahhh! My legs still hurt!"

"Begin."

Number 7 finished his penalty quickly. But not without voicing his agony.

"Oh, gods, why did I do those first few rounds so quickly?"

"I am asking myself the same question, Number 7."

"Contenders, on your feet, please. Your next exercise is the standing row. You will use both hands for the full three minutes."

"About time too," said Number 4. "I was about to get comfortable."

"Believe me, Number 4, in Solitary, the last thing you will ever be is comfortable."

Number 8 wobbled as she got to her feet. "Oh, crap. My legs are failing me."

"Ready, set, go."

In the midst of this round, Number 7 had an epiphany.

"I have to take it easy. I can't keep up the pace I set for myself in the early rounds."

A wise move on his part. Sadly, the damage on his body has already been done.

"This is tougher than I thought it would be, VAL," said Number 3.

"Huh," said Number 8. "Didn't think I had this much in me."

"This is nothing," said Number 4. "I could do this in my sleep!"

Number 7 is grimacing as he pulls his reps.

At two minutes in, something happened. Number 7 dropped his arms in mid-lift, and lost his grip on one of the weights. It fell on his toe.

"GAHHHHH!" he screamed as the weight hit. "Son of a (BLEEP)!" He dropped to his knees and began to cry.

"Are you okay, Number 7?"

"No, I'm not (bleeping) okay!" Number 7 sniffled. "I dropped the (bleeping) weight on my foot! Didn't you see that?"

"I realize you are injured. What I am asking is, do you think you can continue in this Treatment?"

"No!" he shouted through a flurry of tears. "I'm hurt, and I think it might be serious!"

"Number 7, I am truly sorry for your misfortune. But before you can receive medical attention, you must quit the Treatment."

"No, that's not fair! I don't want to be disqualified. I wanted to go down swinging!"

"I know how you feel, Number 7. Believe this; if there were a way I could get your foot fixed so you could continue, I would do it. But that would not be fair to the other guests."

Number 7 spilled over into a wail. "This…this is exactly why I never paid heed to the rules on the outside. Rules only get you screwed over."

"The way I see it, it was not the rules, but your faulty grip that screwed you over."

"But the rules don't make provisions for stuff like this. Randomness occurs all the time, and no set of rules can anticipate everything. Now, I'm getting scratched on a stupid technicality. I could have won the whole damn thing if not for this. Now we'll never know."

"I understand your frustration, Number 7. But indulge me a little. When you dropped the weight, were your arms not tired?"

"They were totally spent. I had nothing left in me."

"Sounds to me like you did give it your best effort."

"I don't think so. I had a few more rounds in me. I know I could have lasted a little while longer. Now I've been cheated."

"And I would have loved to see you go all the way to the final round. But bad things happen, even when you play by the rules. Unfortunately, your stay in Solitary is over."

Number 7 got up. Favoring his foot, he walked to the red button.

"Might as well make this official." He pressed the red button. "I quit."

The quit siren played.

"For what it's worth, I was certain you would win."

"Yeah, that and a buck twenty-five will buy you a house full of furniture at a yard sale."

"Goodbye, Number 7. Here's to your health."

"Later, much."

On all fours, he crawled through the low door. I shut off the electricity, save for the blinking red button. For the record, Number 7 was rushed to emergency care immediately after his departure. His foot was indeed broken, but he received the appropriate medical care.

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On the next upload of Solitary…

The Solitary gym won't close until all the guests hit the mat. Will any of them outlast the Treatment?

Then, these five players have reached the halfway point, and VAL as an offer for them they might not want to refuse.

Because the next Test will build them up, and knock them down.

And the Treatment will turn their world upside down!

All this and more, on the next cycle of Solitary.