- Day one. Inmate 19's day cycle T+0:01 -
My eyes opened to meet the reflective surface of gray, smooth concrete. It was cold to the touch. No surprise there. It would be foolhardy to compare it to any reasonably made bed. Cold, flat, and unyielding; I could think of a gender that's like that sometimes.
It feels like it's been too long since I've slept in one too, or with one, depending on how you choose to look at it.
That said, when did I last sleep in a bed? Come to think of it, where am I? Who am I?
Why can't I remember?
Did I drink too much? No, I can't even remember if I drank liquor at all.
Did someone deck me? Am I in a coma in a hospital somewhere right now, and this is some kind of weird fever dream? If that were true, then why does my body feel the cold, hard floor?
This is definitely real. Wherever this floor is, it's one-hundred percent real.
There was no point in lying down any longer. I rose from the floor, my joints popping from an inestimable amount of inactivity. It was as if my body was reviving from a long sleep, so long that the nerves in my hands, feet, and legs stung from a flurry of thousands of needles.
It was a little difficult to keep my eyes focused. In the brief moments they did, I managed to get a better grasp of my surroundings.
What a surprise. The entire cell was gray. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all, guess what? Concrete.
Hell no. If I stay in here any longer, I'm going to go stir crazy. Claustrophobic or no, this wasn't my idea of a home away from home, wherever this place was.
But there was no way out. No windows. No door. Not even a vent. Was I sealed in here? How am I even alive, if there's nowhere for any air to come through?
Though my questions quickly fell to the wayside. A dim flash of light on the wall beside me arrested my attention.
When I looked around the cell, I didn't notice the digital display embedded in the wall. It was gray, much like the concrete, which made it difficult to spot while it was inactive. But now, perhaps prompted from my movement around the cell, it flickered on.
In blue lettering, it read:
[Welcome, Inmate No. 19.]
Inmate? Is this a prison? What kind of prison has cells with no doors, windows, or ventilation systems? There wasn't even a toilet! But more importantly, why was I here? I can't remember anything before waking up here, much less anything I've done in the past.
The vague possibility that I was somehow a criminal did bother me though.
"Hey! Who's behind this? Why am I here? Who are you?" I yelled into the screen. If it could detect motion in here, then there was a good chance anyone on the other end of this thing could probably hear me too.
Sadly, nothing new appeared on the pixellated little screen, nor was there any audible response.
It was worth a shot, anyway.
"You could at least give me a toilet or something, right? You want me to just squat on the floor?"
My lips curled back in disgust at the thought.