nother day marked off in this dark and lonely place, and another day with no contact from the Hims. There had been one change to my routine, however. Three days ago, a dog, a golden retriever, showed up in my space. I wasn’t sure where he had come from as there were no obvious exits or entrances. Of course, there must be some way to come and go as evidenced by the attendants that sometimes worked the counter. At first, I wasn’t sure what to think of the dog’s arrival. Something about its presence felt wrong and contrived. It was a friendly enough dog, and was always nearby; the epitome of a faithful companion. Over time, I accepted its presence as another of the quirks of this enigma I lived in.
A distant fluttering noise caught my
attention. The dog lifted its head and
perked its ears to listen, but I knew immediately what it was. With uncertain regularity a helicopter would
fly in low as though the occupants were checking in on me. I always watched it from the one window in
the room. It is strange to really even
call it a window since there was no view to be seen from it except when the
helicopter flew past. The rest of the
time, the space on the wall covered by the dark curtain was equally as
dark.
I moved to the window, the dog close on my heels
and pushed the curtain slightly to the side to see out. The darkness was pierced by the helicopter’s
spot light. As it came closer, the light
grew brighter and hurt my eyes. The spot
light raked the darkness, but no formations were lit up. My eyes searched for some sign of another
building or person, or even a tree in the dark landscape, but as always there
was nothing to be seen but the helicopter and its light.
The helicopter’s tail swung around as it came
close to the window, and then I saw something I had never seen before. It could have been a light anomaly, but I
instantly knew that could not be the explanation. All the times I had watched the helicopter fly
past, there had never been a new detail to notice, and the darkness around the
helicopter seemed to swallow up any stray light beams. What I saw was what I can only explain as a
crack, but not a physical crack. It was
more like a digital crack in the tail
of the helicopter, the edges shaped like little squares – pixels. Before I could determine anymore, the
helicopter had flown away, leaving the window in darkness once again.
I let the curtain fall back into place and
turned to find the dog staring at me with something like a quizzical look, head
cocked to the side. Its appearance
unnerved me, as though it were analyzing my reaction to the helicopter. In its eyes, I could almost see a reflection
of light, although the light sources in the room were dim and hidden, and I had
never seen another reflection anywhere in the room. It padded over to me and nuzzled my hand,
looking for a pat, then walked past and headed toward the black hole room. It stopped on the threshold of the room and
looked back at me, tail wagging. I had
no desire to go near the room, not wanting to experience the strangling feeling
I always got from it, but just as I determined to turn and walk back toward the
counter, something in the blackness of the room made me stop and stare. It was a pinprick of light.
I was momentarily stunned by the tiny
illumination. One anomaly I could
dismiss, but two – one right on the heels of the other – this was something
unusual. I stepped hesitantly toward the
room. The palpable humming coming from
it tuned in to the beat of my heart.
Fear rose up in my chest and sat heavy in my stomach but I continued to
move forward, determined to find out once and for all the mystery of this
room. Slowly, I crossed into the room
and the stranglehold on my throat began.
My head swam, my breathing became labored, my limbs felt heavy. Still I moved forward against the push. The pinprick of light had grown and was now
pulsing to the beat of my heart along with the incessant hum. I continued pushing against whatever force in
the room wanted me to back away. My
breathing was so cut off by the strangling feeling that I was choking for air,
but I would not back down. The light
grew in size and I felt I could almost reach out and touch it. I knew if I could just get a few steps closer
I would have it. My legs resisted, heavy
as they were, but with all my effort I pushed my whole body forward as far as I
could. I could no longer breathe, and I
felt my head swim and pricks of pain behind my eyes. My
body leaned forward as I tried in vain to reach for the light, my arm feeling
as though it was held down by weights.
And then just as though someone had flipped a switch, the entire room
was filled with blinding light and I fell forward, no longer tethered by the
invisible force. I felt myself falling
into the light and there was nothing to catch my fall.
In that moment, memories came flashing back too
quickly for me assimilate. They were
little beams of light illuminating the darkened corners of my mind. I could see a house, a family, a farm, horses
and an old tractor. Then I saw another
bright light in a darkened sky and felt myself immobile, heard myself crying. After that there were strange eyes looking at
me; two pairs. Hands moved over my body
but I couldn’t move. I cried but no
noise came from my mouth. One pair of
eyes gazed at me with…sympathy? The
other eyes only seemed knowing. How I
could gather such emotions from only eyes confused me. Finally, there was only darkness and quiet. I opened my eyes to find myself sitting just
outside the doorway of the black hole room.
The dog lay nearby, head resting on his feet.
I looked around me at the only room I thought I
had ever known. It had an appearance of
normalcy and rhythm, but contrived and wooden, as though such things were
foreign to the creators of the mirage. I
searched my mind for memories, and found that they had been returned to me. The light in the room had given them
back. As my mind brushed tentative
fingers over still new memories of the past, realization struck. In this artificial environment I was nothing
more than a test subject, a lab rat.
My chest constricted, a sob escaped my lips and
I whispered “I know who he is.” No one
was there to hear me. I said a little
louder “I know who he is!” becoming frantic now as I realized my situation and
how desperate it was.
I scrambled to my feet, my eyes searching the
darkened room for anyone to listen. I
ran around the room, searching the walls for an exit, feeling more trapped by
the minute. The words forced themselves
even louder from my throat “I KNOW WHO HE IS!!”
Then I turned and saw the dog still sitting
quietly by the black hole room and his eyes were lights that grew brighter by
the moment, illuminated I knew by the truth that had finally been shown to
me. His eyes grew brighter just as the
light in the room had, and I was swallowed up in them, screaming. I had finally found my escape.
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