50937

He slowly came back to consciousness, as he tried to stand up there was a sharp white light in his head and he fell back down. Slowly he counted, 10.....9.....8.....7.....6, he continued to count down to zero. By the end, the hazy feeling of nausea was gone, and was replaced by the hopeless feeling of confusion. What am I doing here? Where is “here”? He looked around at his surroundings and became more and more confused. He was in the middle of a small room with pure white walls.

The walls were shiny and seemed like they were giving off their own light. Thinking about light, he looked at the ceiling and was surprised to find there was no light fixture at all. The ceiling was just as bare and white as the walls. He went up to the walls to try to identify what they were made of and maybe find clues as to where he was. They weren't adobe or painted, they seemed to be a type of plastic. They felt smooth and almost like plastic wrap for foods. Even though the walls seemed to be thin and weak, try as he may, he couldn't even make a smudge on the wall. Even when he spat on them, the spit seemed to just dissipate into the wall.

After his examination of his new home, he figured that it was probably some type of jail cell, but he couldn't remember breaking the law. In fact, he couldn't remember anything about what happened before now. This fact hit him hard, he didn't know who he was! He didn't know anything about his past. He slowly started to sink into fear and anger. This foreign, unearthly white room, seemed to be closing in on him. Even though he was not claustrophobic, he went into the fetal position and whimpered. He fell into the instinctual behavior of hating anything that was foreign to him. He met this fear with hate. Convincing himself that fear was his enemy. After a couple of hours of brooding in self pity and hatred of this room, he realized that he was becoming extremely hungry. As soon as he thought about food his stomach felt more and more empty. Already, he could tell that his death would be from starvation. Just let it come peacefully, he wished. But he knew that it was just that, a wish, because he knew that starvation was an extremely dreadful and painful way to die.

He slowly fell to a fitful sleep. Every time he closed his eyes it seemed that the room got even brighter. Eventually he woke up. He didn't even remember going to sleep. What time is it? he thought. He got up and started to pace around the room. The walls seemed even brighter today. He couldn't even look at then without his eyes watering. He passed time pacing, but that got tiring and boring. So he tried to sleep again, only to find the walls got brighter every time he closed his eyes. He laid there for what seemed like months. He just laid there staring into nothing, not even thinking about anything.

He began to realize that his mind was becoming hazy again. Even if he tried, he couldn't form a coherent thought. If he tried to stand, his legs were extremely wobbly, to the point where he could not stand. He was exhausted. He started to mummer incessantly, “Let me sleep...let me sleep...”. As he was rocking back and forth, he realized that he no longer felt the pang of thirst or hunger. No, it was all drowned out by the unbelievable craving for sleep. That was all he could think about. And then it went pitch dark. He could not see his hand in front of his face. He closed his eyes experimentally, the light stayed off! He abruptly fell to sleep, even though he did not trust the darkness.

How long he slept, he did not know. He did know that when he woke he was completely rejuvenated. He wasn't even hungry anymore. As if on cue to him waking, the walls slowly started to emit light. At first it was just a soft glow, then it was like a sunny day inside his cube. He started to thank whatever made the light stop and let him sleep. After a bit he realized he was now wearing pure white clothes and his other clothes were nowhere to be seen. These new clothes were extremely light weight, but heavy enough to keep him warm. They were as smooth as silk, but he couldn't rip it if he tried. He took off the shirt to examine it closer and when he turned it over, at first he was confused and then petrified. On the back of his shirt it said in large black bold letters, “SUBJECT: 50937”.

He stared at this number, his mind racing to find a logical reason for why it said subject and not inmate and why he was numbered like some...lab rat. As he asked this last question he went into a panic. For a long time he couldn't even think straight. He finally came to the realization that he was doomed and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing mattered anymore, only when and how he died. Then he fell into disconsolation and just sat there crying and not even trying to comfort himself.

He didn't know how long he sat there crying and sleeping. It seemed like days, but in here it was impossible for him to tell. He tried to get himself over the fact of his imminent death and try to make the best out of things. But the always nagging question would distract him, What next? What else can they do but kill me?

He felt a slight nibbling on his ear and little feet scampering over his body. He laid there for a couple of seconds until he realized what was going on. Rats! Scores of pitch black, squeaky, vermin were scampering about his home. He screamed and hit the rats off of him and stood up. He kicked any that got near him. He didn't even know why he reacted the way he did. He then slowly remembered that he did have fear of rats, or musophobia, outside of the cube home. He was happy that he had finally remembered something, but the happiness was short lived, for some of the rats started to run at him. As he stood in one corner, panic-stricken and kicking rats, he wondered how they got in. He had examined his room a little while back when he got his clothes, to see if it had changed and he saw no cracks or opening.

He stood there for what seemed to be weeks. He had now perfected the art of sleeping on his feet and sleeping very lightly so that when the rats nibbled him he would wake immediately. The rats were becoming a little bit more intelligent and mostly stayed away from him, but an occasional rat would get near him. He also was confused by the fact that the rats still looked healthy but they had not been eating or drinking.

He didn't think he could stand these rats much longer. Each squeak made him cringe in fear and each time he had to kick one he became more and more hesitant to touch them. Those scaly pale tails almost made him retch when he even looked at them. When they brushed up against him, he would jerk away and give a little scream. And then they were gone. Just like that, gone.

He was so relieved that he could sit and sleep in peace. And then the buzzing started. A low buzz slowly crescendoed into a noise as if huge bees were swarming the room. This buzzing droned on and on. It seemed like it would never stop. He could barely sleep and he couldn't hear himself think. This noise went on forever it seemed. He was slowly going back into the slightly comatose state when the noise slowly went away. His ears still rang, but that dreadful noise was gone! Yet again he was relieved to have the torture end.

He realized that something else bad, even worse than before, horrific, was going to happen. He dreaded what was going to happen next. He waited for the inevitable torture. He sat there waiting. That was all he could think about. What next? What next? This very question was bugging him in the same way that flies bug people. He just wanted to swat it down and squash it. Btu he couldn't. So there he sat, apprehensive. Just waiting and waiting. His body was telling him that it was over, but his mind would not hear of it. Something was going to happen. but nothing did. He just sat and sat. Nothing happened. Slowly his mind started to catch up to what had happened to him and just couldn't take it. The only life he remembered was the life in this cage.

His mind started to shut off, it need to rest, it couldn't take it anymore. And so he sat there, now he couldn't even ask the questions that distressed him before. Suddenly a perceptively small hole appeared in the wall and a thin cloud emerged. This vapor-like cloud slowly dissipated into the air. The hole disappeared and for a while nothing happened and then he stopped breathing. And somewhere, in the dark recesses of his brain a tiny synopsis fired and he smiled. He somehow knew it was finally over. Finally, the feeling of euphoria spread across his body with the poisonous vapor. At last, he is blissful.

-

The two men watched as 50937 slowly died. They could see through the walls and had been watching and recording 50937s life in his cage. They turned to each other and nodded. One of them picked up a notepad and finished writing, the other went to a console and ordered 50937s room to be disposed of. When the room slowly slid away, the one who had ordered its destruction turned and left the room. Subject 50937 didn't do anything to deserve what happened. He just happened to be what they were looking for at that time. 50937 had no family; he wasn't too strong or too weak in mind or body.

The other one finished recording the sad life of 50937 and put the file in a large filing cabinet against one wall. He went to the door but turned and looked at the picture of 50937 once more. He went to it, took it off the wall, and slowly put it through a shredder. All with no emotion. Then he left the room. He went to the next room to continue to observe and record. His next subject had been in the room for fifteen years to the day. 50937 had only been in the room for eleven months and two weeks.