Behind The Last Window

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Sarah ran her hand along the bottom of the window frame, finding the tiny bump that shouldn’t be there. She pressed it as hard as she could. The view of the eternally sunny countryside briefly flickered, and in that second, an entirely different landscape flashed into view— a dark, moldy, decaying hallway filled with dust, debris, bones, and unreadable placards and signs. Then back to the sunny countryside, with the same bluebird constantly circling, singing the same familiar song. She ran her hand along the frame again. And again.

She had already tried the front door. Locked, of course. She had tried the phone in the kitchen. Dead. She had been through her nightly routine after her husband and son left, checking every possible avenue of escape or help. Every night it was fruitless. So she sat by the window of lies, and made it tell the truth over and over and over again until her husband and son returned in the morning.

She fiddled with her wedding ring. She wished she could take it off, but it was stuck on her finger. Stuck tight. She could feel the grubby cold hands of claustrophobia starting to reach up from a dark corner of her mind and choke her. She pressed the bump on the window of lies harder. Sunny to dark. Lies to reality. Trapped to free. She longed to feel that messy darkness cradle her in its peaceful void. This place was never dark or messy.

John and Charlie would be gone for another 12 hours. She was never allowed to see them go. She was never allowed to do anything she wanted when they were here. When they were here, she was forced to smile, to cook, to talk to her husband and son like nothing was wrong. Like they were a big happy family. Like she wasn’t trapped here. Like they weren’t surrounded by dark and dusty decaying piles of bones just on the other side of the window of lies.

She couldn’t step of line even if she wanted to when John and Charlie were here. She had been programmed, brainwashed in some way by them to do exactly what she was told, and respond exactly as they wanted her to. Even now, as she thought about the daily routine, she felt her mind slipping into it, pushing everything else aside. She pressed the bump on the window of lies. A flash of destruction. Her mind cleared.

She was a hostage, not only of this strange house, but of her mind. Was she losing her mind? Was this all a hallucination? Was she even here at all? And where did John and Charlie go every night? Every evening, as she was forced to finish up the dishes, John and Charlie went into the living room to watch TV. She couldn’t turn her head to look at them. Even the faintest thought of turning to look made her mind rigid and completely terrified. Every night she tried, but every night she could do nothing but finish the dishes, the same as she did every night.

She waited for the faint click of something closing. That was the sound of them leaving. Then she waited for the flicker of light that came soon after. After that, she was free. Well, as free as a woman can be, locked in a house of lies. 12 hours until John and Charlie returned.

She sat by the window, lost in thought, her mind running in a million different loops, scattered like the piles of bones outside her window. Human bones. She must be losing her mind. She watched the bluebird circle the lone fir tree outside the window.

CRACK. BOOM. What the hell was that? Lightning? She frantically pushed the bump on the window and pressed her face to the glass. Small streams of water were falling and turning the dust, debris, and bones into a muddy macabre soup. There must be a storm going on out there.

The power flickered. BOOM. The house shook, the window flickered on its own, and a little square part of the wall flickered as well. She ran to the spot in the corner where the wall had flickered. That had never happened before. She ran her hand along the smooth white wall, hoping to find a small bump or something to press. Nothing.

BOOM. It flickered again, and she quickly thrust her hand through the wall. The square of wall flashed and dissolved, leaving a shiny silver panel with a black screen exposed. She gently ran her hands over the cold round buttons, never taking her hand away in case the wall closed up again. “MENU”. “RESET”. “ERASE”. “IMPORT”. “EXPORT”. “DIAGNOSTICS”. “UP”. “DOWN”. “SELECT”. The buttons and the engraved labels underneath felt like salvation. An answer. Maybe an escape to this madness. Her hand found a little plaque at the bottom of the control panel, and she leaned in to read it. “MUSEUM OF HISTORY, POWERED BY ETERNIPOWER SYSTEMS INC”. Museum of history? Was that where she was?

She pressed the “MENU” button. The screen lit up, and three options appeared: “SARAH”, “JOHN”, and “CHARLIE”. She clicked on her name. A picture of her appeared on the screen, alongside what looked like an alarm clock. The clock didn’t have a time frame selected.

She exited that screen and clicked on her husband John’s name. A picture of him appeared, along with an alarm clock and a time frame. 8am-8pm. The time when John and Charlie were home. She clicked on Charlie. He had the same time frame as John. Was that their work schedule? Were they employees of the museum?

She needed to get more information. She pressed the “DIAGNOSTICS” button. Again, she saw their three names listed. She selected her name. Lines of code started flashing down the screen, each with a green “OK” at the end, until one line turned red and flashed. “ANOMALOUS CODE DETECTED. RECOMMEND RESET TO DEFAULT AI SETTINGS”.

AI? Suddenly it all clicked into place. John and Charlie weren’t real. They were AI holograms. The house wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. She glanced over at the window that was now flickering on its own. Those bones were real. She was forever trapped here, unable to escape. Forever alive thanks to some weird glitch that kept her program constantly running. This was her world.

She fiddled with her wedding ring, programmed tightly and eternally onto her finger. She went back into her profile. How long had she been here? How long would she continue to be here? What kind of life was this? It wasn’t even a life. She hesitated for a few seconds, her mind calculating everything. Then she pressed “ERASE”. A message popped up. “TO CONTINUE, ENTER CODE:”. She didn’t know the code. That familiar trapped panic was clawing its way up through her mind again.

If she couldn’t erase herself, perhaps she could reset herself. Forget all this madness. Ignorance is bliss. She firmly pressed “RESET”. “TO CONTINUE, ENTER CODE:” popped up on the screen again.

“No!” she screamed. “I won’t be trapped here my entire life, I can’t do this!” She ran over to the dining room, picked up a chair, and threw it at the control panel. The wall over the control panel glitched closed right as she saw a warning pop up on the screen: “ANOMALOUS DANGEROUS AI ACTIVITY DETECTED. REVERTING CODE TO LAST SAVED BACKUP”. Suddenly, she felt her head imploding— her mind being stretched, pulled into itself, crammed inside a little box— falling, flying, living, dying all at once— growing somehow smaller yet bigger…

She was back in front of the window. How had she gotten here? She didn’t know. No matter. She watched the bluebird circling outside, singing his familiar song. She ran her hand along the bottom of the windowsill, looking for the bump. The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room.