The 'Yes' Man

I’m writing this from the hallway bathroom right now. I can hear them through the door. Leo is laughing, that loud, barking drunk laugh of his, and Marcus keeps egging him on. Underneath it all is Arthur—the guy they dragged home from the bar—answering them in that flat, deadpan voice.

"Yes, Leo."

"Yes, Marcus."

It started out as a joke. Leo came bursting through the front door at midnight, absolutely wasted, dragging this guy by the arm. Marcus was trailing right behind them, holding a fresh twelve-pack and filming the whole thing on his phone.

The stranger looked totally normal. Khakis, a faded blue button-down, thin wire glasses. He looked like an accountant who had gotten lost on his way to a spreadsheet.

"Dude, you gotta see this," Leo yelled, tripping over his own sneakers. "Met this guy at The Rusty Anchor. Tell him the rule, Artie. Tell him!"

Arthur just smiled. It was a polite, customer-service smile, but his eyes were completely bloodshot. "I signed a non-disclosure and compliance waiver with the Vanguard Research Group," Arthur said, his voice entirely level. "For the next twenty-four hours, I am legally and psychologically prohibited from refusing any direct request or using any form of the word 'no'. It’s a compliance endurance study."

I rolled my eyes. I thought it was a bit. A TikTok prank. Some viral marketing stunt.

"Bro, it’s legit," Marcus whispered to me, shoving his phone screen in my face. He showed me a video from twenty minutes ago at the bar. In the video, Leo told Arthur to dump a pint of beer over his own head. The video cut to Arthur doing it, completely expressionless, while the whole bar cheered. "We found a golden goose, man. He can't say no."

I sat on the arm of the couch, watching them. "Come on, guys. Let the guy go home. It’s late."

"He doesn't want to go home, do you, Artie?" Leo grinned, slapping Arthur on the back.

"No—I mean, yes, I am happy to remain here," Arthur corrected himself quickly, his posture stiffening. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

Marcus set his phone up on the coffee table, propping it against the tissue box to record the room. "Alright, let's test the limits. Arthur, give Leo your wallet."

Without a second of hesitation, Arthur reached into his back pocket, pulled out a worn leather wallet, and handed it over. Leo opened it, laughing, pulling out two twenties and a random library card.

"See?" Marcus hyped him up. "I told you! Okay, my turn. Arthur, do twenty pushups. Right now."

Arthur immediately dropped to the hardwood floor. He didn't take off his wire glasses. He just started pumping them out. But he wasn't built for it. By pushup number twelve, his arms were shaking violently, his face turning a deep, dangerous shade of purple.

"Look at him go!" Leo cheered, cracking open another beer.

"Guys, stop," I said, finally standing up. The air in the room felt heavy, sour. "He’s going to collapse. Arthur, stop. Get up."

Arthur’s arms locked up. He stayed hovering two inches above the floor, trembling, staring straight at the wood. He didn't stand up.

"Hey, don't ruin the fun," Marcus snapped at me. "Arthur, ignore him. Do five more."

Arthur groaned, a low, pathetic sound, and forced his chest back down to the floor.

That’s when I noticed his hands. He was pressing down so hard on the floorboards that his fingernails were starting to split against the wood, leaving faint, dark smudges. He wasn't stopping because he couldn't. The psychological conditioning, or whatever the hell that company did to him, was overriding his own body's survival instincts.

And Leo and Marcus were starting to realize exactly how much power they had.

"Alright, Artie," Leo said, his voice dropping into a lower, nastier register. The fun party vibe was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, toxic curiosity. "Let's see how deep this compliance goes. Marcus, give me your lighter."

"Leo, don't," I stepped between them, my heart hammering against my ribs. "This isn't a joke anymore. He's bleeding. Look at his hands."

"Back off, man, it's a scientific study! He signed up for it!" Marcus yelled, pushing me back while keeping the phone pointed right at Arthur's face. "Arthur, tell him. You want to do this, right?"

Arthur looked up from the floor. His glasses were crooked. Tears were actively streaming down his face, pooling in the wrinkles of his cheeks, but his mouth forced itself into that terrifyingly polite customer-service smile.

"Yes," Arthur whispered. "I want to do this."

"See?" Leo sneered. He flicked the Bic lighter, the small yellow flame dancing in the dimly lit apartment. He held it out. "Arthur. Put your palm over the flame. Keep it there until I tell you to stop."

Arthur didn't blink. He didn't hesitate. He raised his right hand, the fingers raw and bloody from the floorboards, and began lowering it directly over the fire.

"Arthur, no! Stand up and walk out of this apartment right now!" I screamed, desperate to break the spell.

"Arthur, sit down on the floor and lock the front door from the inside!" Leo countered instantly, his eyes wide with a terrifying, drunken god-complex.

Arthur froze.

His hand stayed hovering an inch above the open flame. His eyes darted violently between me and Leo. A low, guttural click came from the back of his throat. He was caught in a logical paradox—two conflicting, absolute commands given by two different people, with no mechanism to say "no" to either.

The polite smile on his face began to twitch, stretching so wide I thought his skin would tear. The wire glasses slid off his nose and clattered to the floor.

"Arthur?" Marcus asked, his voice suddenly losing its cockiness. He lowered the phone a fraction of an inch.

Arthur didn't answer. The trembling shifted from his arms to his entire torso. He wasn't a submissive subject anymore; he looked like a pressurized steam pipe right before it bursts. The absolute, suffocating silence of the room shattered when Arthur suddenly grabbed his own head, his bloody fingers digging into his hair, and let out a sound that didn't even sound human.

That’s when I panicked. I backed away, bolted down the hall, and locked myself in the bathroom.

Which brings me to now.

I’m sitting on the edge of the tub. The laughter from the living room stopped a minute ago. I can't hear Leo anymore. I can't hear Marcus. All I can hear through the thin wood of the bathroom door is the heavy, dragging sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by a frantic, rhythmic tapping.

It sounds like someone frantically clicking a ballpoint pen. Or a lighter.

And then, a soft, polite knock rattles the bathroom door.

"Are you in there?" Arthur's flat voice asks from the darkness of the hallway. "Please open the door. Leo told me to make sure everyone stays in the room."

I'm holding my breath. My phone battery is at 4%.

I can hear Marcus’s phone buzzing on the floor out there, vibrating against the hardwood, ringing over and over again. Nobody is picking it up.

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