Creation

Creation

He stood and stared at his reflection pulling faces like a child would, to see if it caused any reactions stirred any memories or caused anything, that would be a change to the subsistence that was his present existence. He’d done this thousands of times and dreaded the thought that he would do it thousands more, he looked down at the sink and gripped at it aggressively, the anger at the situation coming up hot and fast. Then just as fast as it had come on it was cooled, tempered.

He found himself not really remembering why he'd become frustrated, why he had reacted in that way. Why had he even bothered with allowing a feeling through and to be so big and bold, all he seemed to be allowed to feel was apathy, and after each time his mind seemed fuzzy on what had even been the original cause. He dwelt on this and as he did, he felt soft flames that kept him going heard the voice that told him that this was all wrong and that he must keep on, and then he lost it again he gripped the sink and the angered flared above the cold quiet fury for such a brief moment. Then he was cooled once again, yet he still couldn’t take the fact that he seemed not allowed to feel anything and once again his anger boiled up at all that but no sooner than it had started it was seemingly cooling off.

He repeated this cycle till he jerkily stumbled over and sat down a little too heavily on the bed unable to really remember what he had been doing, or what had been going on the last few hours. He looked at the softed edged small glass cube with the words ``personal effects” laser etched in it and the little heart slightly misshaped locket and dog tags that were trapped inside of it, again he stared waiting for something to happen. But nothing came to him, disappointingly tossing it aside he decided to lay back and rest the gestures just a little too forceful and jittery than he liked. He couldn’t remember why it felt that way to him but it did, for as long as he had been in this room everything he did felt off, whether it was the paroxysms of rage recently or his movement the only thing he felt right was the cold ball of lead like fury in his gut that kept him going was all that really felt right to him.

A heavy metallic thunk sounded on the wall furthest from him and a steel tray loaded with a gray gloop was shoved in, he roughly went over to the tray and slumped down with his back to the wall. This was the only indication that something existed outside this room, he’d given up on trying to interact or see it, smell it or even hear it, all methods he had come up with had ended fruitlessly. Which had led to frustrated outburst at first but that had cooled and now he was purely apathetic to the whole thing, he still wondered what it was but he could not muster the will to pursue it any further. He stared at what was supposedly food, it was grey, almost entirely flavourless as well as texture-less, another element that drove home the point that he was being denied any form of anything that could cause stimulation. He had wondered why there was still a mirror like surface in the room but that thought was kept buried even further deeper down in case what cooled him took that away from him, and then he’d be left with nothing but the walls, the bed and this food. It came twice a day once just before he woke up and then again just before he went to sleep, he was no longer sure if this had been the way it had always been or there had been other patterns, he felt there might have been flavours once he thought on that as he took jittery almost convulsive like mouthfuls of the gruel.

That was what scared him the reason he held onto that fury so much that this was all that was going to happen, forever and ever and ever. He felt that if he just embraced it, it would all be over that would be the end of it all and then it might start over and he wouldn’t even have the fury to keep him going. But he could feel the fury slowly being bled away by the outburst of anger and he knew at the deepest level that the end of what this all was coming to be. He wasn’t sure what would happen but he knew that it did have a purpose, that he was sure about. What that purpose was he couldn’t remember, but that there was one. He dragged himself across the floor, the odd tremor passing through his muscles back over to the bed he stopped for a moment, and then pulled himself sloppily back up into the thin foam and hard metal embrace. The bed barely held him only just large enough for his frame again he thought on whether it had always been that way or not, even thinking on this was fuzzy. He closed his eyes and felt that all was silent for a moment, then there was the fury boiling back up into anger and he was awake. He couldn’t remember what had triggered it but he felt that it must have been for the best otherwise it wouldn’t of happened, and so he once again tried to sleep and repeated the acts till all was fuzzy and slept took him.

He woke with a start the metallic sound having stirred him and looked around he had long given up looking for changes in anything, the mood would take him every now and again but he couldn’t remember when the last time it had taken him. Then fear gripped his heart truly gripped it for the briefest moment before the cooling took over, he should of reacted in some way and he hadn’t. His conscience cried out and all was dread and then it wasn’t and then nothing was.

“Well done” sounded in his ears it was strong and full of bravado and self confidence, he felt joy flood him, he heard and then twitched faintly a shiver ran over him. He felt cold. He felt COLD there was a difference in temperature and there was a difference in everything. Then came a headache like someone forceful flooding a rubber balloon, without a care about the possibility of bursting before it was full. Then the same voice said slightly more faintly “how the hell are they supposed to hear that you turned the speaker to low in the SIS SDRR”

A new voice that sounded tired in many more ways than one replied even more faintly than the previous one “They’ll hear it they probably can hear us now, they’ve just finished the longest SIS SD and R that we have on record. They can probably move in a minute and we want to make sure that they react well to us, they had unusually consistent levels of anger at the end”. Slowly the meaning of things came back senses, feelings, emotions then words, he thought on what he had heard and the rolled the meaning of them round till they started to make some semblance of sense. SIS meant Subconscious induced Simulation, SD and R had something to do with Sensory Deprivation and Re-calibration the last R probably referred to the room he was in.

He thought on what it all meant when the first voice louder with a touch of joy in it “Ha what I tell’em all my guys got the goods, the fucking goods I tell ya, put that record up on the boards soon as you can”.

He lay and waited for the bliss of it all to pass and after a short while it did. So he climbed out of the tank and to his feet the movements were smooth and steady, none of the irregularity he’d felt for aeons. On the a steel tray attached on a rotational arm to the tank lay a few items that captured his attention and focus for what felt like an unusually long time he heard a commotion in the background but he left that to all the other parts of him to process and just stared at the necklace with dog tags and a slightly mangled heart shaped locket. He reached for them and then stopped. He felt he should be paying attention to the conversation and so thought on the key statements of what he had just heard.

“There’s meant to be a progression not a mother fucking leap, fuck that, a motherfucking vault of monstrous proportions! We’ve gone from Homo sapien superior to as near a god damned immortal as is possible, we’ve gone beyond the feasible”

The next key part had a new voice softer higher than the other two but trembling in a host of emotions ``No we haven’t, what we’ve done is ended our species at the best, or we’ll be ended like Frankenstein at the worst”.