Per 
"Two more sets, Michael. You can do it!"
He sighed as she shuffled the papers.
"What two numbers make thirty-six?"
The Foundation's efforts to teach Michael what he needed to know to once again become a functioning member of society were seldom fruitful. The sixteen years that had passed since Michael was left infantile by a failed experiment to restore his memories after waking from an SCP-XXXX induced coma were difficult and uneventful. Despite having the brain development of an adult male there was an undeniable factor barring Michael from regaining the important social skills he needed.
It undoubtedly made everyone uncomfortable. Teaching a thirty-one year old man his multiplication tables didn't have the same charm it would when dealing with a traditional fourth grader. But despite their orders, they couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"thirty-six.." he paused, "four times nine?"
"Correct! I think that's enough for today. You did a great job, Michael."
"thanks, i guess."
Michael was escorted by two guards back to his quarters, running his fingers across the brightly painted walls of Site-17. He'd gotten used to them over the past decade, but that's not saying much as that's all he's ever known.
The clanking of boots across cold metal seized and the electronic door was opened. Michael stepped inside and the door shut behind him.
"Goodnight." He said to no one in particular.
He stood in silence for a few minutes before approaching his nightstand. The digital clock next to his bed read 7:23. Was that true? It didn't matter.
Michael picked up the book and ran his fingers across the pages. 'The Odyssey', the book's blocky text was scrawled across the cover. He'd been reading it every night.
He opened the book to page 68. The bookmark fell out.
His eyes traversed the many words filling the page. He was caught in the intricacy of the text. The abundance of meaning and metaphor, the interwoven messages proved bountiful and exciting. Michael's eyes widened, slowly ingesting the familiarities of the story. It was coming back to him.
The memories erased by the Foundation's failed amnestic testing were flooding back at an extraordinary rate. The horrors and anguish experienced during Michael's time as Odysseus began haunting him once again. He screamed.
Dr. Ty and two other scientists Michael had never seen rushed into the room.
"Michael!" he shouted, "Michael are you okay?"
He didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed the lamp adjacent to him and swung it at the doctor on his left, glass shattering across his face, the wood splintering his throat. By the time two facility guards entered the room Michael was gone. Not physically- but mentally. Odysseus had returned.
"Freeze! Do not take another step or we will open fire!" The facility guard strengthened his grip on his weapon.
Michael shouted and lunged towards the doctors, shouting in Greek. While attempting to reach safety in the corner of the room Dr. Ty made out the words "i must return home."
The room flashed for a moment. At their feet was the body of Michael Lee, deceased. The walls painted with his blood.
Dr. Ty stood up.
"Figure out what triggered this relapse in behavior. We have two others we can still help."
This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated return
of the Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs
most warmly. Make up your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses
is not the only man who never came back from Troy, but
many another went down as well as he.
