Professor Leglum held one hand over the shock/reward toggles, the other over a microphone. Framed within chat windows on his control screen, the experiment's two volunteers fidgeted in their seats. They were locked inside the last room down the hall in the psychology annex, separated from each other by a white partition wall.

Leglum pressed RECORD on his control panel, removed his hand from the mic, and spoke. "Relax."

The volunteers tracked the letters as voice-to-text transcribed what he said onto their computer screens. To them, that was all he was, black letters on a white background. While volunteers knew whose experiment it was - who didn't? - they were not to know who conducted it.

Most of the time, Leglum's interns manned the controls, but he relieved them every now and again when he felt drawn back to the lab. Theoretically, the anonymity ensured he avoided influencing the subjects' choices.

"You will have a minute between each image in the set," Leglum said. "During that minute, use the stylus and tablet provided to draw the design you think your next image will be. You may draw as many guesses as you'd like. Bank each guess by clicking the end of the stylus. Banked guesses only count for the upcoming image. There will be 10 images to the first set."

The volunteers nodded. Subject X - Margaret - was an attractive young woman wearing a collared blouse with an embroidered alligator on the breast. Subject Y - Shawn - was a scowly young man in a rumpled metal band t-shirt. Both were undergrads.

Leglum couldn't predict when outliers might emerge. Only the experiment showed him who they were. It was what intrigued him about it, frightened him. X and Y were as promising as anyone else at this stage.

"If you have reviewed the waiver form," Leglum said, "sign your tablet to finalise your consent."

Margaret signed with sharp, crimped letters. She had a direct way about her. Leglum could see it; she was ambitious, angling to get into his packed classes, to be close to him as though he had something she needed. Shawn eyed the webcam crowning his computer screen, the microphone stalk at his elbow, and the electrode armband ringing his bicep. He signed with large, looping letters. He was in it for the money.

It was no secret: the student body considered the experiment fast cash - sign up and strap in for a quick fifty before heading to the bars. Hangovers were often called Leglums. Leglum didn't mind.

"You will be compensated on a sliding scale," Leglum said. "You will receive at least $20. An image is either correctly identified by the guesses banked for it or incorrectly identified. For every correctly identified image, you will receive an additional $3. For every image incorrectly identified you will receive an electric shock. The strength of the shock will increase the more images in a set you incorrectly identify."

When costs overran Leglum's grants he dipped into the stock market for cash. The money ensured a larger sample size than he'd otherwise attract. To him, it was worth it. When the ethics board grew disapproving he calmed them. He was good at seeing ways of convincing people.

"We will start by showing you the designs from which your individual images will be randomly selected. You will have a minute to review them."

Leglum waited until their eyes stopped tracking his words, then keyed his control panel. On the volunteers' computer screens, the 50 possible designs appeared: a square; an equilateral triangle; two dots side by side; a horizontal line...

Margaret thinned her lips, her eyes dilating as though taking in the whole set like a wallpaper gestalt. Shawn drummed his fingers on his tablet and faced the white partition wall dividing him from her. "What are you going to draw first?" he asked.

Margaret's face scrunched with frustration, her eyes trained on her computer screen. "Shhhh. We're supposed to act in isolation."

"Whatever."

"The minute before your first image starts now." Leglum tapped two keys. The volunteers' computer screens blanked. A pair of images appeared on Leglum's control screen. The design for Margaret was a single black dot centered on a white background. The one for Shawn, two vertical, wavy lines centered on a white background. Neither volunteer would ever see them.

Margaret took a deep breath and closed her eyes while Shawn feverishly scribbled designs on his tablet and banked them, going through the motions as if he had learned by rote. He would earn the entire $50, or near to it. Like so many others, he had gotten the cheat sheet and trained with the 50 possible designs, a selection too large to draw them all in a minute. The trick was to get as many banked as possible and minimise shock risk. Tomorrow, Shawn would have a Leglum. Margaret, Leglum couldn't quite tell yet.

Margaret opened her eyes and drew a dot on the center of her tablet. Shawn drew 34 of the 50 designs, though not his two vertical, wavy lines. The minute expired. Leglum toggled Shawn for a reward, adding to his final sum, then toggled Margaret for a shock. It was a shame. He admired her for correctly identifying her image. But it was part of his experiment. She yelped.

Shawn glared at the partition. "You got shocked?"

Margaret's eyes darted toward Shawn's voice, then back to her computer screen. Leglum could see what was coming, had seen it before. She knew the score, yet she was dedicated to the experiment. She was trying. She would become increasingly frustrated as Shawn received more and more money.

"The minute before your next image starts now," Leglum said.

Over the next minute, Shawn drew 30 of the 50 designs, starting with the same dot he had started with before and progressing through the designs he had learned in the same order. He didn't reproduce his assigned image, a large swirl. Margaret drew an isosceles triangle. Her image was an equilateral triangle. Close enough. She grunted from a jolt, stronger than the last.

"Did you practice with the cheat sheet?" Shawn asked.

"That would defeat the purpose," she said.

"Not if your purpose is to make 50 bucks and not get shocked."

"Professor Leglum is a brilliant man."

Leglum stifled a swelling of pride and reminded himself not to become attached to any of his subjects. It might complicate things, and he liked to keep things simple.

"Your minute starts now," Leglum said.

Margaret drew two ovals forming a bulbous plus sign. Her image was a playing card spade. Shawn drew 32 designs, including his upside down heart. He yelped from a jolt.

"Looks like cheaters don't always win," Margaret said.

"Not always, but most of the time," he said. "It's better than being lucky."

"You know they're watching and know you're cheating."

"So? No one's ever been kicked out mid-experiment, and they always get paid. Even townies sign up if they come up short on rent."

"You won't be allowed back, though."

"You want a shock session more than once?" he asked.

"Your minute starts now," Leglum said.

Margaret's image was two ovals forming a bulbous plus sign. Shawn's image, a 'Z'. He failed to reproduce it. She drew a down-curved line spanning the tablet. Leglum rewarded them both.

"Your high horse seems to have come to its senses," Shawn said.

"Shut up," she said. "I'm not cheating."

"You're either tougher than you sound and are suffering in silence or you're a liar," he said. "I'm betting liar."

Her jaw tightened.

Leglum tensed. Margaret was honest, stubborn, focusing despite built-in distractions. The cheat sheet was readily available on the Internet, and she hadn't looked for it, hadn't seen the 50 designs before the start of the experiment.

"Your minute starts now," Leglum said.

Shawn's hand cramped. He only drew 20 designs, not including his assigned image. Margaret drew a square with none of its angles touching - correct. Her jolt made her squeal.

"For fuck's sake," Shawn said, "just cheat."

"We're supposed to act in isolation." She closed her eyes, squeezing out a tear.

"If that were true, there'd be more than a cubicle wall between us."

"Just pretend."

She settled her breathing.

Leglum rose from his control panel and paced the room. Margaret was an outlier. It wasn't her fault. It just happened to some people. Some weathered the experiment better than others. He didn't like it when outliers kept identifying the images and his experiment made him get his hands dirty. Though it was necessary, it made him bitter toward the entire business.

Leglum leaned into his mic. "Your minute starts now."

Leglum stared at his control screen and could all but see Shawn's thoughts. Shawn was disturbed, his hand unsteady. He was unsure if Margaret was a plant, if the experiment was only on him. He glanced at his webcam as if he didn't want to be seen doing it. He crimped and uncrimped his lips, waiting for Margaret to scream in pain.

Neither Margaret nor Shawn reproduced their assigned images. They received rewards.

Shawn remained silent, his eyes darting toward the partition wall.

During the next three cycles, they both failed to reproduce their assigned images. Shawn drew fewer and fewer designs, he was so shaky. They received rewards. Margaret took her success as pressure, as if she had to fulfill the precedent she had set. Anything less would be failure. She correctly identified her final image, a down pointing arrow. She screamed from the strong jolt. Shawn had left his tablet blank. He received a reward. He tore off his Velcro armband.

Margaret hung her head in disappointment and fatigue.

"Would you like to continue with another set of 10 images?" Leglum asked.
Shawn glared at the webcam mounted on his computer screen. "That's enough. This is bullshit."

Margaret slowly raised her head and faced her webcam, her eyes confused, watery, her pupils pinpoints.

Before she could speak, Leglum said, "Please stay in your seats. I will be there shortly to compensate you and let you out."

He transferred the recorded session to his private server for review and erased all traces of it from the experiment's database. He tabulated Margaret's and Shawn's earnings and pulled money from his wallet.

Down the hall in the Psych annex, he unlocked the test room. Shawn stood before his chair, arms sullenly crossed over his chest, a scowl creasing his face. Margaret had remained in the position Leglum last saw her. She pivoted to see who had come, then quickly wiped her eyes.

"Professor Leglum," she said, reverence steadying her voice.

"Here's your money," Leglum said, extending an envelope to Shawn.

"Forty-seven dollars, as agreed."

Shawn ferociously eyed the envelope and took it. He looked at Margaret, the smile on her face, then shouldered past Leglum and out into the hall. "You're sick pricks," he said. He was on his cellphone before he left earshot, cursing to a friend.

Margaret stood, eyes dilating. "I knew it was you," she said.

Leglum looked away as if embarrassed. He extended an envelope to her. She remained fixated on him.

He could see what was coming. She would get into his classes and go through several private shock sessions as an undergrad, progressing into two then three 10-image sets before stopping. He would bar her from being his intern, and she would work to impress him and prove her worth.

Going for her Master's, she would make it through several 10-image sets, enduring the increasingly powerful shocks as if they were learning tools, instead of being dissuaded by them as was intended. Her accuracy would solidify as the designs became more complex. She'd learn to combat distractions with calm and see beyond it all. She'd write unsettling papers on ESP that'd publish to scorn.

As a Doctoral student, she'd see Leglum for the precog he was. She'd refocus her work and become almost as precognitive as him, and far more vocal. She'd want to gather others like herself, like Leglum. She wouldn't listen to him that it was best they stayed quiet and alone.

It wasn't enough that the fewer they were, the easier it'd be for them to remain undetected and profit from their abilities like they were mere talents. She would grow sure of herself, unwilling to remain hidden and denied for what she was.

She'd press him and discover the others like herself, the bodies, and he would have to kill her. It was such a waste, but he could not have her as an adversary. She would complicate things, and he like to keep things simple. He could not allow her ambition and ego to reveal him for what he was, for what he was doing to find and suppress the others before they emerged.

By then, Y would have forgotten all about the experiment. The extra money in his envelope would have shut him up long ago. He had only received a minor shock, once. He would suspect it had all been an experiment on him anyway, testing his honesty, integrity, and empathy, the extra money a part of it. He'd be embarrassed. He had signed a waiver, after all, had thought he knew what he was getting into.

"Don't dwell on it too much," Leglum said, his voice weak, almost pleading. "It's just an experiment."

"I knew it was you," Margaret said again.

"They all say that," Leglum said.

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