I’m alone. I can hear the shouts
and banging of the people above me. The machinery, things being installed into
the people. Different pills, new machines made to fix us. Or at least the
people that still have a chance in the Combine’s eyes. Windows. Windows
everywhere. Speckled with dirt from the outside. They are supposed to make this
room feel big and comfortable. But it’s anything but that. Broken apart red and
black chairs and books scattered on the ground. All are damaged and unfixable.
The paint is chipping. Its supposed to disguise the room, hide what it really
is from us. I sink into the chair I am sitting in. The chair swallows me as it
gets bigger and bigger and I get smaller and smaller.
More people walk in
hunched over and grumbling. Taking their positions in the room. It all
functions perfectly, all movements precise, lacking any thought or emotion.
They all walk right past me. I’ve become so small in the red chair that I am no
longer visible. There are more noises
upstairs. Horrible screeching noises, like nails scraping a chalkboard. There
is banging and more screeching. No one else in the room seems to notice. All of
a sudden there is a shutter and blinds come up that were previously hiding an
office located in the corner of the room. Unlike the glass of all the other
windows, this glass is clean. Multiple bird like eyes peer out of the window,
studying us. Again, no one seems to notice. Everyone goes about their usual
business.
Finally, a nurse comes in. She is huge, big as a skyscraper, almost
too tall to fit in the room. She tells us it is time to go now and then slowly
from behind her a slow, thick fog rolls in blanketing us all. I can see no one
else now. I don’t panic. The feeling of being alone in this fog is calming. I
see my mom and my dad. They are fighting over letting the government buy the
land. They fight as if I were not there. As if I could not hear what they were
shouting about. They act as if I am oblivious to what is going on around me…
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