DAY 1

We’ve managed to capture the target according to plan. Initially he seemed terrified of the prospect of being captured. However, since we’ve put him down into the sensory deprivation chamber, the target seems to have gone quiet. Usually they scream and beg for at least 24 hours, but the target might have slipped into a state of hopelessness already. Nonetheless we’ll have to keep taps on him, to make sure that the intended goal is accomplished as set by our benefactors.

DAY 4

The target seems largely unresponsive. Only interaction occurs when we bring him food twice a day. Target seems to have adapted a strategy of total compliance. There is an uncharacteristic absence of pleading or defiance. There are no signs of mental degradation yet, but it’s admittedly hard to assess properly because of the unorthodox response by the subject. For now things can progress as scheduled.

DAY 7

The target showed first signs of hostility. When the target was lifted outside of the deprivation chamber for a full assessment the response was aggressive. This response is according to expectations, yet I can’t shake the feeling that the subject was more annoyed by the fact that we seemed to be interrupting, rather than the predicament he finds himself in. Subject showed no signs of physical or mental decline. He seems to have an extraordinarily strong disposition compared to previous subjects.

DAY 12

There seems to be no change in the mental well being of the subject. By now all previous subjects showed severe psychological regression and physical decline. Yet this one seems to be as fit and capable as day one, if not more so. Outward appearance seems peaceful and relaxed, rather than any signs of distress. Subject seems grateful for the sustenance if provided, but does otherwise no interact with any of our staff.

DAY 20

We’ve held a crisis meeting with our department of experimental psychology, staff and representatives of our stakeholders. The subject still shows no signs of mental decline. This is far outside of the scope of expectations and poses an enigma for our team. Benefactors originally expected final results by this time and while we’ve managed to negotiate a longer scope for now, they’re not happy with our progress. Pressure is building within all departments of our operations. We cannot fail.

DAY 34

It’s been over a month. Subject seems unaffected still. Some of our staff handed in their resignations as there seems to be an increased mental toll to those that interact with the subject on a daily basis. The subject expresses gratitude and happiness and while this could be signs of psychological regression, there is severe doubt amongst our team that that is the case. If someone asked my honest opinion on the matter, I’d dare to say that the subject is experiencing tranquillity on a level rarely seen in ordinary society.

DAY 50

Most of our team has been let go. Benefactors have largely retracted financial backing and we’re posed with a dilemma. Some of our psychological experts are fascinated and want to go on studying the subject. Others feel it’s time to move on and clean up. We’ve discussed the possible discontinuation of our experiment logistically with the remaining staff. They expressed a vehement reluctance to cause any harm or distress to our subject. A bond seems to have been developed between those that interact with him on a regular basis, even though the test subject rarely interacts with his captors.

DAY 100

There are only 4 of us left. Experiment has been deemed a failure. Test subject can be considered unaffected both mentally and physically. Some of his handlers have actually joined him in the deprivation chamber. They also seem unaffected and largely at peace. Subject initially was happy to share his food with the newly joined. After interference of union lawyers we were forced to provide separate food packages to the former handlers as well. George, the only psychologist left has been having nightmares about the experiment. He describes vivid hellscapes full of tranquil people judging him.

DAY 250

I write this in my momentary reprieve from daydreaming meditation. We were wrong. I have never felt such bliss and revelation. Joining the others as late as I did was a mistake. This is what it means to be human. Food is now provided by the organization that took over operations, in search of true liberation for humanity. New acolytes join us daily now.

"I suppose at some point we should at least try to escape."

"Escape? Escape? My brother, we're in Malibu! The sun! The sand! The ocean! The women!"

"You do of course know that we are not in Malibu right now."

"Right yes I do know tha--"

"We are locked in a room somewhere in Connecticut."

"Yeah no you're right I just--"

"It has been three days since we've seen the light of the sun."

"I'm just having a bit of fun with it, y'know?"

"I'll say."

"Is that so wrong? To enjoy my time here?"

"In captivity, you mean?"

"We're all captives! That's why they call it Captivalism!"

"They don't call it that."

"I'm just saying, they have to at least feed us or we'll die before talking, they have to house us so we won't be discovered... our basic needs are being met, free of charge!"

"I feel like a few levels to Maslow's hierarchy of needs are neglected during forced captivity."

"Not if we use the power of imagination!"

"You've gone mad. Three days in here and you've gone totally mad."

"If 'going mad' means I'm on a beach in Malibu, then I'm Hannibal fucking Lecter!"

"Again, not on a beach. You're alone, in a locked room, with an increasingly large pile of shit in the corner."

"Don't bring up shit-corner, it shatters the illusion."

"There's no illusion! None of this is real! I'm not even real! You've retreated into the confines of your own mind in a desperate attempt to maintain some sense of control over your situation, when the truth is you are doing really poorly right now!"

"I am not! Just as soon as I get out of this room I'll be back on my feet!"

"Oh, oh good. So get out of this room then."

"No."

"And there's our problem."

"There's no problem! Malibu!"

"There is no Malibu! You can't keep hiding from reality like this!"

"Now you listen to me, pal. You are a part of my escapist fantasy, and you will ACT like--"

"You're diving into escapist fantasies without even trying to actually escape!"

"How am I supposed to escape? This room is impregnable!"

"You haven't so much as checked if the door is locked!"

"Well excuse me for believing in people! For believing our captors are competent!"

"God, you'll do anything to avoid reality, won't you? You're not afraid of being trapped in here, you're afraid of going back!"

"Shut up."

"You're afraid of the bills, and the responsibilities, and the social interactions--"

"Shut up!"

"You're gonna die in this dark, rancid, windowless room because you're too afraid to face the world outside!"

"SHUT UP!"

...

God. Okay. Yeah, it does smell pretty bad in here.

I’ve always known that my past actions would catch up to me one way or the other, I just assumed I would be killed in the battlefield, tortured maybe, not go through all that insane journey to be kidnapped over a decade later.

It all started last Tuesday when I was returning to my shithole of an apartment after yet another day of pretending to be somebody I’m not, I reached the corner-store well aware of some random car following me, yet I shrugged it off, ‘Meh, worst case scenario, I’ll have an excuse to beat someone down’, I thought to myself, next thing I know I’m here in this featureless cement cube with voices barking at me, telling me to share all the information I have on ‘M’, an old war-brother that I hadn’t communicated with in years…

A few hours in, and various attempts later to make me fess up, I realized, pacing around my cell, that my capturers knew almost nothing about me, other than my ties to M, as this wasn’t my first rodeo, not after being held captive multiple times during that god-forsaken war, not after that asylum, not after…

That’s when it hit me, it’s been ages since it was this quiet inside my head, it’s been ages since I’ve taken my last trip to that beautiful world I’ve constructed to escape all that surrounded me, it’s been eons since I’ve been with my real family, well, their ghosts at least…

A smile is suddenly painted on my face, as I sit down, crossing my legs beneath me, humming an old song about my city’s ruins, eyes wide shut as the light fills up every cell of my existence, I am finally home again…

To be continued… or maybe not…

I woke up in what seemed to be a basement. I felt groggy and my throat felt dry. I reached for some water but I couldn’t see any. Disorientated, I looked around at my completely unfamiliar surroundings. There didn’t seem to be anything in the room at all.

“How the hell did I get here?” I wondered. “Wait? Am I lucid dreaming??”

I tried to make something happen. Anything. Nothing happened. “That’s weird… I thought I had a vivid imagination…?”

I suddenly noticed a cup of water beside my bed. Had it always been there? Was I finally harnessing the power of my mind?

The water was crisp. They really had the good stuff in dreamland.

I relaxed back into the bed, trying to think calm thoughts to not wake up. I knew today was a Thursday after all, and I wanted delay reality as much as I could. I had been working so much overtime recently that my days were starting to blur together, and most nights I didn’t even remember putting my head on the pillow.

Wait - SHIT!

I bolted upright. Did I buy any food for breakfast on my way home last night?? I couldn’t remember doing so… What was I going to eat when I woke up…?

I put my head on the pillow and tried to avoid reality for just a little while longer

---

Special Forces Agent ‘Nice’ observed the subject. Unknown to the public, there were some supernatural phenomena that existed and was well studied, but only the top brass of a select few nations knew about it.

Aliens were making telepathic contact with about one in 100,000 humans, and were guiding them in science, mathematics, and technology. For what purpose no one was completely certain, but there was a reason that technology had advanced more in the last 200 years than the thousands of years prior… It also wasn’t a coincidence that many of the so-called ‘geniuses’ in that time period were more than a little detached from their sanity.

He looked as the subject woke up, and looked around with obvious disorientation. The subject seemed to look around wildly for a moment, before noticing the glass of water on his bedside table and drinking it.

What person would wake up in an unfamiliar room and drink a glass of water on their bedside table? The subject was obviously lacking rationality, which was common among the Tainted.

Next the subject seemed to lie back down despite the obviously unfamiliar setting. However, he seemed to almost jump out of bed. Agent ‘Nice’ smiled at the look of horror on his face.

It seemed Subject ‘69’ had finally noticed he couldn’t communicate with the aliens from within this special facility. He watched as the subject slowly laid back down into bed, with denial and grief clearly written across his face.

Agent ‘Nice’ felt vindicated. His fellow agents had thought it unlikely this subject had been Tainted due to his profession, but with all this video evidence it would be clear to all who was getting the last laugh. While the Subject may feign at sanity later, and perhaps even regain a semblance of it eventually once the influence of the Taint diminished, this first awakening combined with all the circumstantial evidence was good enough to serve as a textbook example of someone Tainted.

Subject 69 in the prison in front of him fit all the classic symptoms. He was a recluse, having no family and only calling even the closest of his few friends once every couple of months.

He was also devoted to his work, putting in excess of 100 hours week after week.

On top of that, when Agent ‘Nice’ looked at him work through his work laptop's camera, it appeared the subject would often look into empty space for extended periods of time, before furiously drawing as if having divine inspiration.

While Agent Nice couldn’t understand what was so important about cartoon girls(?) with cat ears, he knew it must be one of the alien’s demented plots to subverts humanity’s culture, so he had been studying the alien-inspired propaganda diligently. After all, If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles… Though this enemy was admittedly hard to understand

---

END OF PART 1

I may write more, but I have to wake up for work in 6 hours so its not just Subject 69 that has been trying to avoid reality for just a bit longer :P

Reversed

All I could think about was me walking to the counselors office.

"Do you know why I'm talking to you right now?"

I stared at him.

"You seemed to always be distracted, your grades are dropping. This is very important."

I kept staring, tuning out his words with the ticks of the clock.

Tick tock, Tick tock, Tick tock.

"Kati! Seriously?" He sighed. "Just try to keep your fantasy world outside of school, okay?" He dismissed me.

I was walking home from school, like I do everyday. I hate it here. My parents think I'm as dumb as a doorknob as do my teachers. I wish I could leave.

I woke up this morning, sadly. But I'm not in my bed. I'm on hard ground, my mouth is taped as well are my arms. It seems to be a glass containment cell, the lights are bright. I'm panicking.

Then I stop. Someone is coming into the room. More than one person. I can't make out their faces since they are discarded by masks. I assume these are my kidnappers?

"Hello." Said the first person.

"If you are confused, we are holding you here to take place in an experiment. If you don't oblige to being a part of the experiment, you will be killed. Understood?"

I nodded.

It was terrible at first. But after awhile I didn't care. Sometimes they'd see what I was fearful of, trying to make me go insane. The dark, spiders, small spaces, noises, heights. I wasn't scared. I moved myself to a land so far away. A world made of pillows and skies made of quilts. With a sunset that burned over the world like candle wax. No one was telling me what I have to do. No one was telling me who to be. They were trying. But no.

I overheard them talking. Something about their boss, and if how the experiment fails-Blah, blah, blah.

I don't know how many days have passed now. They really are desperate. Sometimes I find it amusing, other times, I don't care. One of the kidnappers left—the second one. He probably didn't want to risk getting killed.

I can feel my body. Its very malnourished. But I'm feeding my mind. I really have no sense of time at this point. The kidnappers wonder how I'm not dead, some days they're screaming and talking and fighting.

This was the only time I snapped out of it. It may have been months at this point. My parents probably haven't tried looking for me, that wouldn't be surprising. The sound was so loud. BANG! My abductors had shot each other, at the same time. I realized I was the only one left in the room.

This has been fun. The tape around my body had worn off. There was no weapons in the glass room, no rocks, nothing. This is the first time I realized it. My hair used to be my neck length. Its down to my waist now. I stand up. Pain. I ran and threw myself against one of the glass walls. It shattered.

I grab the gun, and decide to end the daydreams.

Finally, I can hear the voices clearly. You never realize how noisy the world is until you’re comforted with beautiful silence.

Who shall speak to me today?

Tiffany? A voice so faint that it could be a whisper. The last time I heard her she was singing me to sleep the day of my mother’s funeral. I remember desperately trying to find her for comfort. I tried everything but noise cancelling headphones only go so far. It’ll be nice to hear from Tiffany again.

Maybe if I close my eyes…

A faint scream fills the room.

“hi Marcus, still falling?”

Marcus’s voice is an echo, he’s been falling for years. I respond to the echos of his screams from the abyss. The last time I got angry I could hear his echo “you should slap the shit outta him.”

I have no clue who they are or why they chose me, but I can provide them with a home in me and in return, I feel less alone.

There’s an excitement in the air, I think a new voice is coming in. The other voices are screaming in unison. I have to bang my head to shut them up.

I can hear the desperation in the new voice as it’s reaching out. I have to press my head against the walls to hear it clearly.

It’s suddenly quiet.

All I can hear is a hum. It’ll probably take a while for this new voice -Beth- to get comfortable with me.

Luckily, I have the time.

For most people, this would be terrifying. I mean apparently you go insane if you’re isolated all your life. But not for me, to me… reality is my isolation chamber. I never did good in school, my current job sucks, and nobody has EVER talked to me unless it was required. Since I zoned out in class a lot I got the title of weird kid which was basically the end of my social life. All this caused me to end up leaning into my daydreams practically 24/7 except there would always be someone to interrupt my happiness wether it would be my boss, a classmate/co-worker, or a teacher I could never continue my dreams, it’s like getting woken up right at the good part of your dream. But now I can finally achieve everything I’ve been dreaming of. I don’t have to worry about getting disturbed in my dream I’m finally free! It’s been about year since my isolation started and I’m still so happy. I’m don’t have to worry I’m safe in here-…… my kidnapper is back. He’s knocking on the door but it’s getting distorted? What’s happening?!?! He’s opening the door… “you’ve finally woken up.” Huh? “I know you don’t know me but I’m your great great great great grandson.” “WHO?!?” I shout with a panic but he remains calm “Your great great great great grandson. You’ve been stuck in a cryogenic sleep for many many years now but you’ve finally waken up.” He calmly smiles after he said that. I reach out to touch him. He’s my first human contact in a year I didn’t know I was so desperate for human body heat this bad… as I touch him his body is cold. Oh god. I begin to panic and scream then everything distorts again and I’m back. I’m back to where I was in the beginning. I’m back to my room. To the place for one whole year. My kidnapper comes in. He simply says “I can’t believe it you actually survived.” “What? What are you talking about???” “This all an experiment” I begin to feel enraged, he’s been doing this for an experiment?!?! “My buddy bet me 1 million dollars that no one could survive a year without human contact. He gave me 5 years to get it done. I took that bet foolishly but now I’ll be rich! Thank you so much!” “THIS WAS FOR A BET?!?!” “what? What’s wrong?” “How many people did you kidnap?!?!” “50 so far you were the only one to survive.” “Survive?!” “Everyone else went crazy and killed themselves with the fork I gave them to eat with.” This man is crazy. Immediately my fight or flight activated and I grabbed my fork and stabbed him in the eye. “OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT FOR? I ONLY LOCKED YOU IN A ROOM ALONE FOR A YEAR!” “THATS WHATS WRONG!” I shouted back. He thought he was god and could just toy around with people for no reason? I killed him. I killed him brutally. He bleed and his body stiffened and his eyes became unresponsive and I was alone once again. I ran out of that room hoping for Sun. But I realized that this whole place is an abandoned government building which the only way out was through an elevator that required his voice recognition. But he’s dead and never waking up. I guess I’m just doomed to wonder this building until I die. I guess this is my last recording with this broken down camera. I guess… if you’re watching this… im dead never waking up either. I’ll never see anyone again. I’m left to my daydreams until I die. Goodbye.

"They finally got me," is what I thought at first. I mean I had betrayed all the big families with the coke deal in Europe that was a scam. I saw them tailing me down 6th avenue on my way out of town. I jumped out of the car only to get nabbed by the CIA who kept calling me Vlad and yacking at me in russian. It's this spy versus spy stuff. My disguise for the mafia got me pegged by the CIA! I'm in a transport to DC. They think I'm Russian. I haven't said a word or taken off my disguise. I don't plan to until I get to DC. Until then I'll day dream about the story I'm going to give them and the $50 million I stole from the mafia.

Thank God, they're gone. They were entirely too rough. I kept telling them that I would come with them and the tape and the zip tie was overkill. It's like they had never heard those words before. It's like they thought I was mocking them?

The room is dark, but the glow from the light outside shines through the crack under the door. This isn't the kind of darkness where people lose their minds. It's peaceful.

People always tell me I should try meditating. Who has the time for that? That's just slotted "think about things" time. It's an insane concept. Sitting and not thinking? How do you even do that? There isn't enough time in the day to just sit and think much less sit and try and not think. Seriously, how do you relax with no thoughts? I haven't been relaxed since I was born and even that event, sounds extremely taxing. How am I supposed to schedule time off to ponder when I have so many other things to attend too.

I should be questioning why I'm here, but that isn't top of mind. I'm so tired. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. My wrists hurt. The blow up matres and the plane pillow and blanket they have provided me will do the trick. I fall asleep almost instantly.

I'll try and figure out the meditation thing tomorrow, if that day comes.

Being able to dwell deeper into the madness, you allow everything and anything to enter. The occasional feeding times alarm you to return to the mortal plane every now and again, but outside of that, your madness was something they never accounted for.

And why would they? You were a financial worker for a big company, and they were asking you questions about this teleportation device that would allow people to get to anywhere in this or another universe. Heck, they even questioned me about the upcoming Revolution. Seems to be Feds trying to make me squeal about something; but they will never get me to talk as I am preoccupied with continuing my story. They gave me pen and paper to “record evidence” when they just game me materials to write a novel, maybe a few novellas.

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