Watching the analog clock tick as the seconds roll by as the secondhand slams on 7:59:52 quickly, the hand jumps to 7:59:53, and with slow hesitation, the needle moves from fifty-three to fifty-four. Sucking in the air into the lungs and feeling the chest expand with the air filling, the hand slowly creeps up and gently sets on fifty-six. Handling the ram of the piston and the existence constricting with the continuation of the pulling belt's tension on the crankshaft, sensing the rotation, hitting top dead, and feeling the essence of life blasting into existence. Pulling the driver back into the seat as the piston rod begins to pull down. Completing the cycle while the calendar on the wall dates May the Twenty-second, Twenty-six forty. The hand jumps to fifty-nine and shifts quickly to eight o'clock while stiffing up straight in the chair and locking eyes with the figure on the other side of the glass.
"Do you get pleasure from being a part of the system?"
"Being a part of this system has given me no pleasure."
Though a slim figure, the patient looks down at her feet as though she is twiddling her toes or making movements distracting herself from the questions and trying to pay no attention to them, proceed with the questions.
"Do you know why these things are happening?"
"Yes, I believe these things happen because I am who I am, and your system doesn't approve of people like me."
She seems uncomfortable, looking under the empty desk like she is, tucking her chin in her chest, fidgeting with her hands, and looking into her lap, but what's with the slight grin?
"When was the first time you gave a flower to a girl? What'd she look like?"
"I've never given anyone a flower but bequeathed one. How do you know that? And why do you want to know what she looked like?"
"Continue"
"She was white, almost pale as these walls but a bit more toned skin. And as you'd looked up into the void, her hair was nothing but an abyss."
The trickling of forming words as the excuses for a response comes out. The burning swells as the vessels in the eyes pulse, looking up to the glazing, reflective eyes. Looking through the mirror and reflecting upon the infinite mirrored eyes looming over, grasping over all the possibilities of the misplaced outcomes. Once given to an unknown surrender, some bloom for the opportunity for life.
"When was the last time you saw a starlit sky?"
"That's a stupid question, yet you may not know the situation we live in anyway. So it's a questionable question. But no, no, we have never seen a 'starlit sky.' We see them in our dreams as they fill the black sky. Will we ever see them?"
A long and anxious quietness comes from what seems to be the two-way mirror—looking at herself in an endless void and facing the whispers of the library of secrets. Not for the one in the reflective surface, but that was not the body whom they did indeed inhabit. But the one in the chair they did undoubtedly.
"What separates someone from somebody else?"
"That's a multi-layered problem. But quickly and straightforwardly, it would be the life a single individual holds and presents as their experiences."
She leaned back into the chair and took a breath, listening to the room's muffled silence accompanied by the intensifying ring and the faint heartbeat, beating away like a hair running from a predator, and her eyes began to pool fast as flowing water splashing on rocks. As bevers would slowly build a dam constricting the flow, the bearing of the head pound with each slowing strike on the war drum played against the dreadfully distinct nothingness ricocheting off the walls, the eyes dry.
"Do they keep you in a cell?"
"That feels like a rhetorical question."
"Continue"
"At this point, I'm here, by myself and in a single cell grasping for no apparent reason as a single cell would be oblivious to the bigger picture. So yes. I'm kept in a single cell."
"Who keeps you in a single cell?"
"The protectors of your system"
"Define protectors"
"The ones who deemed me unfit for your bittersweet system"
Witnessing a faint vision of a well-dressed dresser drawer.
"What does it feel like to be part of the system?"
quickly peering inside the drawer's deep dark space, grasping at something to fix her eyes on as it slowly shuts before her eyes.
"It's suffocating."
"Define suffocating."
As two thumbs caress both corners of the drawer, bending to push forward slowly.
"asphyxiating."
"Define asphyxiating."
The anticipation of building anxiety before the drawer closes, jolting slightly in her seat as it shuts.
"gagging."
"Define gagging."
As the betrothed drawer becomes a four-tier dresser, shrinking before her. She gets up and runs towards it, growing with each step, running upon the tall dresser trying to climb up and grasp at the first handle slipping and falling, hitting the ground. The top of the dresser seems to puncture the roof, letting Godly rays of light shine on the vast empty space around her.
"Strangling."
"Define strangling."
A giant glistening silver, golden, and bronze triple helix interlocked key flies overhead and inserts itself into the lock. Locking her breath, a hand with chains inked on the wrist comes from the abyss to grasp the key and slowly turns and locks the well-dressed drawer. And as unknown extraterrestrial forces pull her breath violently into her lungs. She utters the words.
"To kill."
"Define 'To Ki-"
As the keys come to full rotation, tears pool up once again on the dam of eyelashes. Struck in awe, she opened her mouth in fear and love. In an instant, it came to a standstill with an unearthly Roaring lock shaking her eardrums. Hearing the turning key lock, she slammed her fist on the counter.
"I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE. MAKE IT FUCKING END ALREADY!"
Cried out with a broken, shaken scream of desperation. Slamming her head and digging her face in her hands, and nailing her fingers to her face. Scratching at the skin and pulling, tearing, trying with all her Being to rip and claw out of herself. She begins to repeatedly slam her head into the desk, screaming the most terrifying yet beautiful blood-boiling war cry. Only to fall on Deaf Ears.
"Do you know why you like the taste of blood?"
She looked into the mirror, seeking out the vast dead, lifeless eyes as the clear running tears ran as watercolored and began to bleed, running down and merging with the flaky frail skin. They were soaking and moisturizing the protruding cheekbones. Clutching at words or just syllables, only to run dry with nothing but choking exhausted air coughing out of trembling, chapped lips. The figure in the mirror began to sink into the misty surface. Detaching her hand from her face and reached out her arm to grab the disappearing figure, drawing back, balling her hand into a fist, and punching the glass as the mirror shattered and a piece fell on the table, leaving a black hole across the face of the one on the mirror and the one on the table in the glass and frozen in time. Grasping for the last tiny piece on the table, she shouts with a scratched plea.
"NOT YET, STAY… PLEASE!"
The walled mirror became a pitch-black portal, with the white background showing where the fallen peace had fallen and shutting her in the small room only to seep a small cry clutching the shard in her hand so tight blood seeps from her fist and trickles on her bare white pants.
"I don't want to be alone."
The descending voice dims the lights, with a light mist consuming the room, saying, "bedtime, bedtime."
She is watching the room through the Infinite shades of white, gray, and black, to only a visible silhouette of the room. Dragging herself up as the hollow corpse drags her uncooperative feet, wanting only to stay seated at the desk. Walking up and kneeling to the newly made bed on the floor, shifting it from the wall slightly while undoing the neatly made bed, throwing the sheets to crawl on it, she sits on top of her feet. Hands in her lap, bowing her head, looking into the deep dark slit between the wall and the bed. She hunched over, gazing at where the floor met the wall. Taking time for her eyes to adjust to the dark—sitting tied in knots, watching the wall's vast emptiness and fixing her sight on the smallest hole where the wall and floor collide, sitting patiently in utter silence. The feeling in her stomach, falling into a fast valley of wheat. Dark clouds begin to settle and darken, hearing the thunder and rain rushing from a distance, feeling a raindrop fall on her cheek while the wheat field begins to wither and die. Staring at the vast stocks of dying wheat and the dark pail white of the wall with a far yet close small deep black hole. Watching it as a small flower blooms with countless small black petals that begin to fall and settle on one another, opening up with a bright yellow center. Its abyssal petals start to curl up and fall off as six long red petals grow out of the center; the thin petals fall and curl upwards from the flowers' tall thin stock. Seven small, six blood-red petal flowers with long stamens protrude from them as they begin twisting and dancing with the stillness of the dead wind. Wiping the drop from her face, she slid her feet under the sheets and concealed herself with the blanket, reaching out on the side of the bed and fingering the hole as an inchworm would inch its way a centimeter at a time, trying not to move anything back, clawing down at anything that may be in the course of her fingertip. Smashing something down, she latches onto it and drags it out with the tip of her finger. Dragging it out and snatching it up, she throws the blankets over; though vast and dying, the field only yields a small scroll rolled up as the fabric of thin paper is clutched in her fist and holds it to her chest. With the warmth of the paper in her hand and unrolling the tightly wrapped small paper tube. Within reading inside '1137' in fine red ink. Scanning, memorizing as her eyes beat across the small piece of paper, consuming any other information. Disappointed with the absence of words, she rolls it up into a small ball and eats it. While trying to fall asleep, the numbers danced inside her head restfully. While tapping her foot, she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. An uneasy feeling occurred looking at the mirror on the desk in the center far wall. She watched her body tick with each tap of her foot as she watched the clock on the desk read 05/23/2644-12:11 pm. To a delightful synthetic chime slamming at 12:12, the door slid open. She stood up from the bed and looked at the light on the ceiling, muttering to herself in a light tone.
"Nothing but blue skies ahead."
Walking towards the opening that hadn't been for eight years and taking a second to look at the duffle bag placed at the foot of the door. She bends over and picks up the bag filled with relics from her past and others. She strapped it over her shoulder and walked through the door, making her way down the hallway, walking by and watching the shadow of the room's occupant next to hers, reading the door's deep harsh etching '#31,920.' Longing to just graze her hand over the numbers embedded in the thick steel door only to feel the warmth of the cold door heated by the soul trapped. She knew they watched her with every step she took. Holding her hand tightly, she couldn't even move her head towards the door, thinking to herself, knowing that when she saw the person who accompanied those numbers, she wouldn't be able to hold her senses back. She felt the hairs stand up on her neck while taking each step to and away from the door. Knowing those numbers, somehow, they would meet again. Closing her eyes and grieving for them, she made her way past, walking down the long narrow hall as she passed the various vast long aisle of doors, watching the shadows creep up under the slits of the doors, walking by, making her way up to the secretary's desk, greeting the desk with stern eyes and a smile with a slight hand wave.
"percent optic, please."
Said the secretary while operating several monitors. As a contraption unloaded from the desk and zipped at her, opening up like a blooming flower with a crystal clear lens in the middle, it started to scan outwards, and as she leaned into the gadget, it came out on a long floating cord, and it sucked to her eyeball as the scanning procedure commenced. As the secretary typed on her keypad, she paused and proceeded. "Ahh, checking out, are we today?" she said with a probing inquiring tone. "Yes, madam," letting the words run out as the optical scanner popped off and receded into the desk, squinting her eye with a gentle rub with her hand. "Well, you know what they say? You can check out anytime, but do you leave, right? Dropping her head down as she raised her shoulders near her head, pleasing herself with her joke with a slow impairment chuckle, somewhat with herself. Watching the desk worm with more or less of an unpleasant but neutral look on her face, the secretary creased the edge of her lips, sinking back into her cheeks with a pissed-off furrowing of the eyebrow "tough crowd" with a slow and painful sorrow in her voice.
"Sorry, madam, I just don't get it?"
While exchanging a long and silent uneasy stair, the secretary glides her hand over the small printer and cashes the slow printing paper, pulling on it slightly as it comes out. Thinking to herself,
"Well, she's an impatient bitch."
As the printer cuts off the paper in her hand, waving the report in front of her face with the speed of a whip.
"Yes, go to the printed location and finish processing, have a nice day."
As the lady took the paper away from her face and held it out, the long-haired and white gown figure snatched it out of the secretary's hand. As quick as she grabbed it, the lady was fast with a response, waving her hand as though she was letting the cold air cool off the burn inflicted by the patient.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to,"- as the lady cut off the patient in a nihilistic tone.
"It's okay, I'll be here all week," While she walked away from the desk, she overheard the lady scold herself, saying, "hEaR aLl wEeK, this is my fucking job."
Walking into the washroom, grasping the knob with quiet might and elegant speed, she opens the door just enough to slither her body in the doorway to slam the door shut, but at the last second, she closes the door with a turn of the knob, so it doesn't click. And with a quiet and gentle push, the outside is sealed as she locks the door behind her. Standing with her back on the door inside the bathroom, darting her eyes, looking in the room's corners or any small crevices where little devices can hide from eyesight, though the room is basic and flat. Listening for any movement occurring inside the dark places she hadn't laid her eyes on. Hearing the eerie silence, she grasps the doorknob and leans into it to make sure it's locked and a release of tired but relieved breath. Moving slowly, sliding her feet across the linoleum floor. Her eyes closed in making her way to the shower curtain. Going to grab the shower and slowly pull it back, she hesitates, leaning in to move. She pulls it back and unveils nothing behind. With a depressed sigh, she drops her bag by her side, covers her mouth with her hand, and lets out a soft, short, muffled laugh. Pleased with being alone, she tears up and cries clear rivers of diamonds as they run down her face. Unable to hold them back with the dam-like hands wiping them away only to be filled again with, even more, rushing to turn on the shower. Turning it on and watching the water gargle and spit out, she finally gives in and lets them run wide open, running her hands through her hair, folding her bottom lip back with her teeth, and grinning ear to ear. She hangs her head behind her shoulders, looking into the sky, and lets her hands freely guide her as she dances spiritlessly around the room. The white gown twirls with her body as she spins and turns around the floor like a sundress in a meadow of blooming dandelions. Dancing to the water droplets as they hit the foundation of the shower. Her hair spun around like DNA molecules forming and breaking around her knees. The dandelions begin to transform into balls as white as cotton; interlocking her legs, she twists one last time as the wind from the playful dancing sundress blows the seeds of the stocks. With her eyesight filled with blinding light, she shuts them tightly. Only to open her eyes to the white light of the tiled bathroom, looking at the open shower as the steam rolls out. She stands straight and reaches around her back to loosen her gown's knot. As it drops to the ground around her feet, she looks at herself in the mirror, feeling the heavy-lined lumps, deep scars, and heavenly fined edges. Holding her ribs crossed armed, embracing herself tightly, walking into the shower. Listening to the rain hit her face as she walked into the shower as they fell to the ground, lost in thought. The once world outside she knew calls for a fresh start as the door Ecos of scratches, sounds of snapping and breaking as the door is on the verge of shaking off the hinges. She was consumed by herself with the past life and the pain of thinking about what may come. And who may judge her for a time and execute her if it comes down to doing it? Letting herself fall back onto the abyss that she'll never return from. Pinning her back against the wall and sliding down. Letting the water hit her eyes without a blink, staring into the fast empty white space of the shower and allowing the white reflective light to consume her vision. Hanging her head as a porcelain doll with no life inside. Screaming and crying out to be loved and cherished only to remain motionless and silent, sitting on a shelf, never to be held again. Clutching her knees, curled up underneath the undertow of escaping water and emotions.
"Do they even want me back? I really can't do it."
Squinting her eyes as the water rushes off her forehead and washes the tears away. Sobbing to the consequences of the guilt for her sins and facing them, forever alone. Reaching to turn the knob and shut the hot water off as the droplets fell on her scalp, she felt the water run and glide down her hair. Standing up and slicking her hair back, she grabbed it into a tail to squeeze any extra water. Shaking her wet hair in a frenzy, stopping to drop her head in a dizzy sickness, laying her hand on the wall to cash herself from falling, she takes a second to gather herself. Sliding her hand towards the button by her hand, she presses it. As the fans start underneath her, blowing her hair up. The hair strands hit the top wall, threading through the small holes and feeling the fan blades catch and sever the ones that are too long. Standing in place as she gets a trim as the fibers are chopped by the edges, she feels the individual pull on her scalp as each hair is plucked out. Looking up in the cyclone of twirling hair, she glides her fingers through the dry, loose floating hair and hits the button. As the fans cool down and the thin follicles fall slowly around her shoulders, she walks out of the shower onto the cold floor. Kneeling at her duffle bag and shuffled through it to find her clothes. She felt the clean libs thread through the freshly made cotton, threw the shirt over her head, and draped the baggy shirt around her thighs. Grabbing the bottom of the shirt and feeling the loose cloth wave, it begins to shrink slowly and hug her as it begins to fit perfectly. In amazement, she smiles and looks at her bag. Almost in a rush on Christmas, she tears into her bag to find the rest of her outfit to see they did the same. The jeans hugged her hips and legs like a second skin. Thinking back to sorting through her belongings and looking at the towel with its logo, she looks in her bag and pulls out the towel with a labeled insignia. A small stitched DNA strand appears to be detaching from itself, with wandering strands leading away from each other. Under it reads 'separately we are nothing, together we are' Rubbing her thumb on the embroidered insignia, feeling the well-made and put-together make of the towel, she puts it in her bag and gathers her things from the shower. Walking over and unlocking it while putting on her firmly fitted coat, she shuts the door and makes her way to the exit. Shifting in the small side pouches, she pulls out a Data Credit Chip and holds it tightly while walking up to the automated ticket dispenser. Scanning the card, the screen reads
'Total balance 3,120,000.'
Looking at the screen with an unhappy, disgusted look, she snatches the card from the reader and walks away towards the edge of the railway. Twiddling the card between her fingers in a fast fidgety motion, she stops to hold it between her thumb and middle finger and taps repeatedly with her index. The light deep in the tunnel is but a tiny ember. Shifting her eyes towards the slight shimmer, it quickly becomes a roaring flame casting the entire station in its light. Thinking to herself.
"Fuck, not even enough to feed me for a mouth."
Throwing her hand in the air and plowing them down by her side in a small burst of rage. Running over to the ticket dispenser and slamming her card in as the automated voice calmly said, "please present FPS," pressing her index on the glowing square on the screen. Putting pressure as the wheels of the train squeal and come to a halt. She begins to impatiently moan with a nasty growl at the dispenser as the voice says, "thank you, the available balance is 3,100,000. Have a nice-" cutting off the annoying voice and slamming her fist down onto the screen, shutting it up prematurely, and shattering the screen. She turns quickly and runs for the train. She tries to catch the doors in a sprint as they begin to shut. Slingshotting the bag off her shoulder and sliding it to catch the door, the bag slides and goes beyond the door falling inside the closing door. In a full-body dive trying to get to the opening, her body is thrown to catch the gap. Slamming down on the ground, fingertips distance away from the closing door, looking up to see a foot kick her bag across the train. Closing her eyes as the train door shuts and feeling the defeat of the door and the lost bag, she clutches her data chip card and curls up on the floor, saying in a soft spiteful way,
"Well, there goes another twenty thousand."