Pilot finally sat up at what he assumed was a command to get on the treadmill. He slid down off the table, but froze when Goode asked his next question. This one was easy; Pilot knew the answer that would make the man happy. 

"Only to you, sir," He said flatly. A few men in white lab coats hurried over, switching out his monitors and prepping him for his exercise. Pilot knew the process so well that he didn't even need to be told what to do anymore.

Open mouth, drink electrolyte and protein drink.

Hold out arms so that they can attached the monitors.

Stretch out right arm for blood sample draw. 

Preform pre-run stretches. 

He didn't mind the stretches, actually. It worked the kinks out of his muscles, which had been kept too still while he slept. During the whole process, his eyes remained distance and staring ahead. He took interest in nothing; he cared about nothing but his orders. Once he was prepped, he stood straight and waited for the command to begin the exercise.