“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Abdarco Institute.” A smiling, gray-haired man in a white lab coat addressed the small knot of reporters gathered in a large, ultra-modern lobby. “Our mission is to take At-Risk girls, get them off their self-destructive path and mold them into new, productive contributors to society. I’m Michael Lloyd, founder of the Abdarco institute. I hope through this exclusive tour of our experimental facility we will be able to put to rest many unfortunate rumors and falsehoods that have begun to be spread by malicious actors and those who simply do not understand what we are trying to achieve here. Now, if you would follow me, we shall begin the tour…”
He turned and led the group to a bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. There was no call button, but at a wave of Michael’s ID card one was summoned. As they waited for it, he took a few questions.
“Where do you source patients for your radical new treatment plan?” A man in a tweed jacket whose visitor badge identified him as one Greg Saunders, asked.
Michael smiled back at him. “We work closely with the courts, both juvenile and regular, the foster system and schools to locate girls who are at-risk of falling into socially destructive patterns: drugs, gangs, juvenile delinquency, runaways… Our revolutionary processes are able to cure our patients of these negative life patterns and help them become well adjusted contributors to society. In a few cases, families have reached out to us who want the best for their daughters but don’t know how to solve the problems on their own.”
“And what about allegations that you pay to have girls diverted to your program instead of other youth programs? Or that judges and administrators in the foster system who do so have received certain perks from Abdarco?” Michael’s smile faded as the question was brusquely put forth by a young woman, the only female in the small group. Her name tag gave the young woman’s name as Valerie Roberts. She was a good looking thing; tall, slender, in a nicely tailored blue pantsuit that set off her red hair, tied back in a ponytail, but Michael didn’t much like the intelligent look in her expressive blue eyes which peered at him through large round glasses; one that said she knew the answers already but wanted to see how he answered it.
“Completely untrue, I assure you Miss Roberts.” Michael said, his smile returning as he slipped back into the comfortable cadence of carefully prepared statements. “As I said, we want to dispel such harmful rumors. While we do offer reimbursements to some of the organizations we work with, it is only to offset the additional administrative costs. And as for these ‘perks’ as you put them,” He laughed, “They are only to educate our vital collaborating partners in the important work Abdarco is doing…no different from a seminar or conference held by a pharmaceutical company, to educate doctors prescribing their drugs.”
He continued. “And to be frank, they are quite happy to work with us in this, no incentives or coercion necessary. We are taking at-risk girls that they don’t want to handle, in some cases can’t handle, allowing them to better focus on the rest of their charges.”
Just then, the elevator doors opened. Michael hustled the reporters inside and, once the doors closed, spoke aloud: “Michael Lloyd, Level 3.” There was a chime and the elevator ascended. “As you can see, access to different areas of the facility are restricted, both to protect our patients and their privacy and, in cases where a given patient may be unstable, to prevent them from interfering with other patient’s treatments. Where we are going now is one of the residence levels, where the patients are kept between treatment sessions.”
A short while later, the doors slid open. The level the group stepped out into was starkly clinical, white walls and ceiling, brightly lit by fluorescent lights. It had little in the way of decoration, save for signage and warning markings. From the elevators, a long corridor extended directly ahead, branding off on either side into sections even 10 yards or so.
Michael led the reports to the first of these side corridors. As they came around the corner, they saw windows and doors, spaced in pairs at regular intervals. Coming to the first window, the group saw it looked into a cell, roughly 10 feet by 10 feet. The walls, floor and ceiling were all a dull off-white. Where the ceiling and walls met were strips of small, compact lights which covered the cell in all directions. It was spartanly furnished, with only a low, padded cot and a small toilet in opposite corners.
The cell held a girl in her late teens. She had olive skin, with numerous tattoos and dark brown hair, shaved on one side and sharply spiked on the other, the tips dyed a bright purple. The girl wore a simple, white cotton dress of mid-thigh length which looked incongruous with the rest of her appearance. Padded cuffs were locked around her wrists and ankles, joined by short canvas straps. Another strap held a rubber gag between her clenched teeth. She paced the cell, as quickly as the hobble straps allowed, occasionally grunting something through her gag or directing an ugly glare in the direction of the window.
“The glass is one-way.” Michael told the group. “It can be made opaque for privacy, but it is often necessary to keep our patients under close observation, both to ensure the treatments are working effectively and to prevent patients from causing self-harm.” He directed their attention to a hanging file folder on the door to the cell which held several sheets. “This is one of our newest patients, she arrived only yesterday. There is always a period of ‘adjustment’ as patients learn to adapt to the rhythms and structure of the Abdarco Institute, especially if their previous situations were deeply unhealthy like hers were.”
“And the restraints?” Another male reporter in a burgundy jacket, asked.
“Well, as mentioned, this patient was brought here on an…involuntary basis. In her previous situation she was heavily involved in gangs and street violence. She was arrested following an incident and the trial judge, in consensus with her court appointed attorney, felt Abdarco was a better long term solution than prison. However, she became aggressive during transit and shortly after arriving so for the time being, for the safety of Abdarco faculty and her own protection, we have reluctantly kept her restrained, until our treatments can cure her of these violent tendencies and teach her to behave in a more socially appropriate manner.”
Michael led the group down the hallway, past several cells whose windows were opaque. “I showed that one first because we do want to highlight that what we do may, on the surface, seem a little harsh or perhaps even cruel. Many of our patients are committed on an involuntary basis and do not accept that the treatment is in their best interest…at first. But it is far better that they can come here. Without us, that girl would have been tried as an adult and sent to a correctional facility. There she would have been surrounded by hardened felons which would only have reinforced the negative patterns and ensured a life of future delinquency and incarceration. Instead, she will be steered onto a more useful and healthy path, where she may contribute to society instead of harming it.”
He stopped, coming to another window that was transparent. “Here is more what we want to see in our patients and their time at Abdarco.”
This cell was furnished far better, with three full beds, a small folding table and chairs as well as a small shelf which held books and other materials. Though its walls were of the same off-white, some efforts had been made at decorating it, with photographs and pictures cut from magazines taped to the walls.
It held three girls. Two of them, one a tall, dark-skinned girl with short, frizzy hair, the other a petite brunette, were sitting at the table playing a board game. The third, a cute blonde, lay on one of the beds, ready a book. They were dressed in the same clinical gowns as the first girl had, but in some way seemed far more natural in them then she had.
“These three have been here for about 3 weeks now…” Michael said, “But believe it or not, when they arrived they were in much the same state as the other girl is now. Those two…” He pointed to the girls playing a board game, “Came here from juvenile court for the same sorts of violent, anti-social behavior. The other was a runaway, living on the streets before she was collected and brought here. As you can see, our program has worked wonders in improving their behaviors.”
As he was saying this, a doctor in the same white lab coat that Michael wore, accompanied by a pair of burly technicians in scrubs, approached and entered the room. As soon as the door opened, the three girls in the cell instantly sprang to their feet. They lined up in front of the men, standing demurely, heads bowed, hands folded behind their backs. Those outside the cell couldn’t hear what was being said, but the quiet, submissive tone in which the girls answered the doctor was all too clear.
“They are just going over the most recent treatment sessions.” Michael explained. “Evaluating its effectiveness, seeing if additional follow up sessions are required.”
“Will we be allowed to see a demonstration of your new treatments?” One of the reporters asked.
“Unfortunately, patient confidentiality means we won’t be able to observe that.” Michael apologized. “But I can provide you with some literature outlining the broad strokes.”
“Why are you only treating girls now?” Valerie asked.
Michael, having expected this, answered it smoothly. “In our initial experimental phase, it was found the treatments were far more effective on female subjects.” He smiled. “Given our limited resources, we thought it best to focus on where we could do the most good straightaway. As we expand our operations beyond this experimental facility to nationwide, we do hope to eventually extend the same services to at-risk boys as well.”
In the cell, the doctor made a few notes on his clipboard and left. As soon as the doors hissed shut, the trio of girls turned, relaxing suddenly and returned to their earlier activities. Michael nodded approvingly. “In another week or so, those girls will be ready to re-enter society, changed for the better.”
“How do you help your patients adjust to life post-treatment?” One of the male reporters asked.
“Well, in some cases, we can simply return the girls to their families.” Michael answered. “For those with no home to return to, we offer job placement services thanks to partnerships with a number of corporate partners, finding positions as Administrative professionals, domestic staff…eventually we hope to include more vocational training so our patients can quickly learn to contribute and repay their debts to society.”
Michael grimaced, noting Valeria raising her hand again. “And I assume the ‘rumors’ about Abdarco receiving financial remuneration from the companies the girls are hired by are untrue?”
“Completely untrue.”
“So where do you get the funding for this operation?”
“Our funding comes from a number of generous endowments by private individuals who believe in our vision.” He replies. “Of course, as the donations were made on the condition of anonymity I cannot divulge their identities.” He added, to quickly forestall any further questions from Ms. Roberts.
After a few more questions from her colleagues, Michael ushered them back to the elevators. “For the final part of the tour, we have prepared a little reception.” He said, smiling. “You’ll be able to meet and mingle with some of the patients that have recently completed their treatments and see for yourselves the benefits of Abdaco.” He waved his ID by the elevator’s sensor to summon one. “But, if you will excuse me for a moment, there’s a small bit of business I need to take care of…” He stepped away from the group and took out his phone.
“I’m afraid one of our guests does not see the benefits of Abdaco.” He spoke into it in a low voice. “I think she might require a more…hands on, demonstration to fully appreciate it.”
When the elevator arrived, Michael ushered the reporters in and ordered it to the top floor. In contrast to the spartan patient wing, this one was luxuriously appointed with wood paneling, plush carpet and rich decor.
“This is the executive level…” Michael explained. “I know it looks a little fancy, but the sorts of high profile donors expect a certain degree of VIP treatment. Every dollar spent here translates to 10 dollars in endowments going to further our mission. But since we have it, might as well enjoy it, yes?” He laughed, the other men joining in as they left the elevator.
Valerie started to follow, but she was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw another woman, dressed in the same white coat as the other doctors here.
“If I could have just a moment of your time…” The other woman said, beckoning the reporter to follow her into one of the other offices. As soon as she stepped through the door, a beefy arm wrapped around her chest, pulling her into a tight bear hug against the burly orderly. His other hand clamped tight over her mouth. As she struggled, the doctor turned. Valeria’s eyes went wide as she saw the hypodermic needle in the other woman’s hand. She struggled, but her efforts made no impression on the strong arms holding her.
“Relax.” The doctor said, smiling as she jabbed it into Valerie’s arm. “Everything will be fine…” Everything started to darken. The last thing Valerie heard was the doctor’s voice. “We’re here to help yoouuu…”
Meanwhile, the rest of the reporters followed their host into a large, stately boardroom. Set out on the long conference table was a fine spread of snacks and desserts. Nearby, an ornate cabinet held a variety of drinks. Michael encouraged the reporters to help themselves. As they did, he crossed the room to another door.
“I said I was going to give you a chance to see the benefits of Abdaco yourself…” He told the men. “And here it is…” As he said this, a line of a dozen smiling girls tramped into the room, single file. They were all fine specimens: tall, long toned legs, curvy. Each wore a sort of poncho-cape of sleek, colorful cloth, fastened to a thin collar at the neck with a clasp in the shape of the Institute’s logo that hung to just below the waist.
“Each of these girls has received the full Abdaco training regime.” Michael explained. “From wayward, anti-social at risk girls, they’ve become compliant,eager servers.” At a gesture from him, all twelve girls reached up in unison and unfastened the capes. The shimmering cloth fluttered to the ground, revealing the girls wore nothing beneath aside from the collars. “And I do mean eager…” Michael said with a grin. “Oh and if you were worried, the youngest, Jennie here,” he pointed to a beaming blonde girl on the left end of the line. “Had her 18th birthday last week, so feel free to indulge.
Indulge the reporters did. Leaving them to their fun, Michael left the room and went to his office. Seated beside the desk was his private secretary, a trim, young redhead, her skimpy business dress accented by a collar with the same clasp.
“How is it looking?” He asked. In response, she pressed a button on the keyboard. The computer monitor lit up, showing the feed from the hidden cameras as the reporters were busy ‘sampling’ Abdarco’s finest wares. “I think we can count on favorable press from now on…” Michael said, smiling.
“What about our other guest?” His secretary hit another button, changing to a new feed. This showed one of the ‘treatment’ rooms. Valerie stood in the center of the room. The female reporter had been stripped naked and strapped to a frame which held her upright, arms and legs spread-eagled. She’d regained consciousness and was evidently distressed by her situation, though the panel gag strapped over her mouth made it hard for her to express that at the moment.
The door to the cell slid open and a doctor accompanied by several techs entered. Valerie’s eyes went wide and she redoubled her struggling as she saw the machinery used for the initial conditioning, but strapped down as she was she was helpless as the techs came forward and began applying the electrodes to her naked body.
Michael grinned, watching as the rest of the implements were applied. Depending on how her initial conditioning went, they could cover her brief disappearance. Valerie Roberts would be quite useful as a spokeswoman for Abdaco…once her opinion of it had been readjusted. If not…well it wouldn’t be too hard to make her disappearance permanent. And soon enough one of their special clients would be making another generous donation to help fund the institute’s expansion…