"Very good," the scientist smiled. "Now, if you'll follow me..." He indicated the door.
"What, like this?" Baxter protested, staring down at her uncovered breasts. "Don't we at least get some clothes?"
"You get nothing," the scientist replied. "That is the entire point. You have no skills or knowledge applicable to wilderness survival that the rest of the human race does not possess, and no prefabricated tools to make things easier for you. All you will have is what humans developed by relying on: your wits, and your ability to work together."
"So, no clothes," she sighed.
"No clothes."
"And no opposable thumbs, either," she muttered under her breath.
Without any further ado, Baxter and Davison were led out the back of the building and into a large, unmarked van. As much as this made Baxter nervous, the interior was quite comfortable, and the back seats had been replaced with stools around a small table, fixed firmly into the floor. This allowed the two harpies to sit comfortably, with their tailfeathers hanging down, rather than having to sit on a flat surface and lean forward.
After a bit of a drive, the van stopped, and they were let out at a tiny private airfield outside the city. The only plane there was a private jet, which they boarded. The inside of the plane was laid out much like the back of the van, but far nicer. "Please," the scientist said, "make yourselves at home. There's food and drink in the cooler, and various things to occupy you during the flight."
Spinning on her stool, Baxter managed to open the mini-fridge with one talon. "Food and drink" apparently included champagne, hors d'ouvres, and cold cuts. She let out a low whistle. "Really going all-out, aren't you?" she remarked, still surprised by her new voice.
The scientist smiled. "Well," he said, "since we deprive our subjects of the comforts of civilization for a year, we think it only fair to give them a last chance to fully enjoy those comforts." With that, he headed up to the cockpit.
The take-off was nothing remarkable; Baxter had flown enough times before to be used to it, and the other subject seemed comfortable enough as well. As soon as the plane leveled off, the two of them dug into the foodstuffs, eating as neatly as they could without any hands. After they had finished, they turned to the various diversions provided to while away the hours.
It was a long flight, long enough that they had to open up the fridge again and make a light supper out of the leftovers, but neither of them said anything to the other. Occasionally, though, Baxter could feel the other subject's eyes drift down to her bare breasts, but he'd always look away as soon as she looked up at him. She really couldn't blame him, since she'd be doing the exact same thing in his position, but it was rather awkward and uncomfortable for her.
Still, this was something she'd have to get used to, since she was going to be naked for a whole damn year, so she did her best to ignore it. Finally, the plane began its descent, and before long they had landed at another private airfield not far from the preserve. They munched a little something and then went to bed in a little cabin nearby.
Baxter awoke the next morning with sunlight streaming down on her face and hunger gnawing at her stomach. Davison was standing over her. "Good morning," he said. "Baxter, right? Is that a first name or last?"
Baxter groaned. The last thing she needed right now was having to deal with a morning person. Still, it wouldn't be a good idea to get off on the wrong foot with someone she was going to have to live with for a year. "Last," she mumbled. What was there to eat around here?