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Locked.
For God knows how long.
My whole life I've been in here, wherever the hell here is. I can't remember anything. Well, some things. Random things, like what a billboard is, or how to turn on a garden hose, or even what a garden is, or what pizza tastes like. I guess I've tasted pizza before, the word seems familiar in my mouth, alerting my brain, synapses firing, remembering the salty warmth on my tongue. The saliva builds up in my mouth, hunger encases my body.
Reality takes hold of my being again. Sometimes I loose myself in these random thoughts, thoughts about an alternate dimension it seems. In reality, my gut tells me these are memories, things I've experienced. Though, I can't place where it is, who is with me, or if the memory is even mine. It's such a strange sensation of the mind, and body really, it's like I'm actually there.
I close my eyes and breath in the smell of the memory, grasping my spirit and yanking it from the picture. At the end of my breath in, a fowl stench hits my nostrils, bringing me back.
"How long have I been out?" I'm speaking to the only other person I know, she's been with me as long as I can remember, which isn't very far back. We've been in this cell for the same amount of time together, both sharing the same grim reality that's willingly gripped and held us both. My voice is soft and hollow, it seems to echo before it hits the drippy walls.
"The second cycle hasn't come yet, I'd say and hour or so." she replies.
It's strange how we can remember lengths of time, but we can no longer feel them. We don't know how many days, weeks, months or years have passed since we first found ourselves in here. We keep a tally on the wall, grinding a new line in the hard stone with our forks each time the food comes. It seems to be consistent, the food seems to come at the same times every, what, day? Night?
A bright light breaks my thoughts. Living down here in the dark for so long, my eyes have grown accustom to the dimness. Each time the Cibbi comes down with the food, it's light blinds us momentarily.
"Cibbi's here." I say. Maple's got her back turned, her face to the wall again. I expect she's folding, she says it calms her and brings back a warm feeling, she thinks by nurturing the feeling she can get the memory back.
I see her head bob slightly, indicating she heard me. I step up to the cold metal bars and reach through to take the trays. Illuminated by a lit candle set on the tray, I see our meal of beans, rice, and water, along with two more unlit candles and a box of matches, a stack of blank white paper for Maple, and for me... a book. I set the trays down on our little wooden table and tap Maple's shoulder. She get's up from folding and sits down at the table, setting the paper crane she was folding on top of the new stack of paper. I set the book aside while we eat. Scooping beans and rice ravenously and gulping down the water. We barely look up at one another, and no words are exchanged. We've long ago ran out of things to talk about, especially when we ate.
When my last bit of rice is licked from the bowl, I hand Maple my fork and set our empty dishes on the trays giving them back to the Cibbi. I watch the little machine roll away, it's glowing orange letters 'CBI' flashing as it leaves. I still don't know what they stand for, though we've both pondered it for ages. I quickly give up on the idea about thinking about it again and collapse lazily on the bed. I grab the book left for me. It was unusual for them to leave books, I had only gotten one book before, and the only thing it contained were useless quotes.
I flipped open the first page. Holding the candle up close, I was astonished to find etchings on the inside of the cover.
Read and pass it on. Proof lies here. Clearly, the tongs of a fork had carved into the soft paper, and a grimy finger had been wiped over it numerous times to make it stand out. My heart beating, I flipped another page. There in front of me was the head of a person, or at least and image. I flipped randomly through the book. Each page was filled with photographs of everything. Each thing had a name, and some came to me more easily than others. Pictures of trees, and light in the background. Light... did it truly exist? In that much quantity? My heart beat even more. Who had given me this book? Why? Whoever it was didn't have access to a writing tool, just like us. What if... suddenly my thoughts were broken loose by an unnerving grinding sound. I settled down, realizing that it was just Maple marking another line on the wall with the fork. My heartbeat had started to calm down, but still the mystery of the book remained.
...pass it on... it had said. How? To who? My headache returned, a splitting sharp pain like a bullet through my skull. I set the book down and set my head on the pillow. An unintended groan escaped my lips and Maple noticed my behavior.
"What's wrong?" she spoke. Her voice just added more pain to my head.
"I, I got this book. Here." I handed it to her, Maple's face showing great confusion. She took it, read the first page, then started to flip through it. Her sullen empty expression began to change to puzzled and curious. "What is it?" she whispered.
"I don't know. It says it's proof of something." I added through my pain. She continued to flip through the book, until she reached the last page.
"Look..." she breathed. The very last picture was of a man standing in front of a building. The sign on the building read -
"Civilization Backup Institute. CBI."
For God knows how long.
My whole life I've been in here, wherever the hell here is. I can't remember anything. Well, some things. Random things, like what a billboard is, or how to turn on a garden hose, or even what a garden is, or what pizza tastes like. I guess I've tasted pizza before, the word seems familiar in my mouth, alerting my brain, synapses firing, remembering the salty warmth on my tongue. The saliva builds up in my mouth, hunger encases my body.
Reality takes hold of my being again. Sometimes I loose myself in these random thoughts, thoughts about an alternate dimension it seems. In reality, my gut tells me these are memories, things I've experienced. Though, I can't place where it is, who is with me, or if the memory is even mine. It's such a strange sensation of the mind, and body really, it's like I'm actually there.
I close my eyes and breath in the smell of the memory, grasping my spirit and yanking it from the picture. At the end of my breath in, a fowl stench hits my nostrils, bringing me back.
"How long have I been out?" I'm speaking to the only other person I know, she's been with me as long as I can remember, which isn't very far back. We've been in this cell for the same amount of time together, both sharing the same grim reality that's willingly gripped and held us both. My voice is soft and hollow, it seems to echo before it hits the drippy walls.
"The second cycle hasn't come yet, I'd say and hour or so." she replies.
It's strange how we can remember lengths of time, but we can no longer feel them. We don't know how many days, weeks, months or years have passed since we first found ourselves in here. We keep a tally on the wall, grinding a new line in the hard stone with our forks each time the food comes. It seems to be consistent, the food seems to come at the same times every, what, day? Night?
A bright light breaks my thoughts. Living down here in the dark for so long, my eyes have grown accustom to the dimness. Each time the Cibbi comes down with the food, it's light blinds us momentarily.
"Cibbi's here." I say. Maple's got her back turned, her face to the wall again. I expect she's folding, she says it calms her and brings back a warm feeling, she thinks by nurturing the feeling she can get the memory back.
I see her head bob slightly, indicating she heard me. I step up to the cold metal bars and reach through to take the trays. Illuminated by a lit candle set on the tray, I see our meal of beans, rice, and water, along with two more unlit candles and a box of matches, a stack of blank white paper for Maple, and for me... a book. I set the trays down on our little wooden table and tap Maple's shoulder. She get's up from folding and sits down at the table, setting the paper crane she was folding on top of the new stack of paper. I set the book aside while we eat. Scooping beans and rice ravenously and gulping down the water. We barely look up at one another, and no words are exchanged. We've long ago ran out of things to talk about, especially when we ate.
When my last bit of rice is licked from the bowl, I hand Maple my fork and set our empty dishes on the trays giving them back to the Cibbi. I watch the little machine roll away, it's glowing orange letters 'CBI' flashing as it leaves. I still don't know what they stand for, though we've both pondered it for ages. I quickly give up on the idea about thinking about it again and collapse lazily on the bed. I grab the book left for me. It was unusual for them to leave books, I had only gotten one book before, and the only thing it contained were useless quotes.
I flipped open the first page. Holding the candle up close, I was astonished to find etchings on the inside of the cover.
Read and pass it on. Proof lies here. Clearly, the tongs of a fork had carved into the soft paper, and a grimy finger had been wiped over it numerous times to make it stand out. My heart beating, I flipped another page. There in front of me was the head of a person, or at least and image. I flipped randomly through the book. Each page was filled with photographs of everything. Each thing had a name, and some came to me more easily than others. Pictures of trees, and light in the background. Light... did it truly exist? In that much quantity? My heart beat even more. Who had given me this book? Why? Whoever it was didn't have access to a writing tool, just like us. What if... suddenly my thoughts were broken loose by an unnerving grinding sound. I settled down, realizing that it was just Maple marking another line on the wall with the fork. My heartbeat had started to calm down, but still the mystery of the book remained.
...pass it on... it had said. How? To who? My headache returned, a splitting sharp pain like a bullet through my skull. I set the book down and set my head on the pillow. An unintended groan escaped my lips and Maple noticed my behavior.
"What's wrong?" she spoke. Her voice just added more pain to my head.
"I, I got this book. Here." I handed it to her, Maple's face showing great confusion. She took it, read the first page, then started to flip through it. Her sullen empty expression began to change to puzzled and curious. "What is it?" she whispered.
"I don't know. It says it's proof of something." I added through my pain. She continued to flip through the book, until she reached the last page.
"Look..." she breathed. The very last picture was of a man standing in front of a building. The sign on the building read -
"Civilization Backup Institute. CBI."
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