It is truly difficult to say where I am. In part, this is because nothing fits here. It has been so long that everywhere looks normal, and nobody puts a name on the normal. There are the pale red skies outside my cell, the shadows of the things whooshing about the red every so often passing through the barred windows. I can tell in my mind there is nothing right about this, but nothing seems wrong either. I can barely think of anything else. At least, not while the racket next door is going on!
Another piece of the difficulty, meanwhile, comes from the impossibility of thinking while my neighbor howls her sweet song. It doesn’t sound bad, but my mind can’t hear itself while she goes on and on and along with the winds high above. I cannot think on anything else but that, so my mind flows along with the peaks and troughs and I can’t well tell myself where here is!
I bang my fist on the wall, which cracks slightly under the pressure. I cannot bring myself to shout, but my message is apparently felt. When the singing stops I can almost make out that silhouette next door in my mind, the long disheveled hair and nails across the backdrop. Not her face, though. Never her face. At this point, I can’t even be sure she has one. But either way it stops, and I feel as if my ears have been drained of water. I can hear it rushing out, a river, my cell beginning to fill up. My feet submerge, then my ankles. I close my eyes.
I see it so clearly, just where I was the other day! The blue sky and brilliant sun high above, obscured somewhat by the verdant trees. I’m sitting below the biggest one, and I can feel it shadowing me; keeping me safe from the fat old sun who would beget me cancer. In front of me is the stream rushing along, into which I dip my feet down to the ankle. The river doesn’t know I’m there, and neither does the tree. Neither does the wind overhead, ruffling feathers as it passes. I do feel one presence, however. One presence which does recognize me. It must! Slowly, I turn to the left, left, left.
“Are you dreaming in there? Come on, wake up!” Just before anything is revealed, I am stirred by the clanging of metal. In front of me, across from my bed and through the barred door, is a guard wanging around its truncheon.
“You’ll have your time soon enough. None of that, okay?” I rub my eyes and slowly nod. The guard packs up its limbs to hover away.
As soon as it is out of sight, drowsiness settles in my mind where the dream should be. Wearily, I stand up from the bed and pull down the thin white sheets. They feel so delicate, yet I haven’t managed to tear them to shreds in my sleep. I lie atop the similarly white mattress, which creaks slightly under my weight. Or maybe that was the bed frame. As I drift to sleep, I look to the side, through my cell door. With the darkness settling over my vision I can just make out a portion of the row of cells parallel to mine, all with their own movements. Next to the door, shining faintly, I see the brass key dangling from the wall. Has it always been there? How could I not know? With that final thought, my eyes close completely and I drift into the alien, dreamless sleep in which I always find myself. Something unusual happens while I’m under, and I can make out shapes in the unyielding darkness. It is the face of a man, one with lightly greyed hair and an out-of place smile.
I feel as though I’ve been in this place for a long time. I couldn’t put a time on it, perhaps a year and a half. I’ve had time to try everything. What I’ve noticed is that sleep is strange. I don’t dream in my sleep, only when I’m somewhat awake. Otherwise it’s just black. I suppose you could call it a dream, actually, as I am present. I can feel myself in the black, some kind of void. It’s very cold. Not freezing cold, but I certainly wish I had some kind of cover. It’s nice, I think, to have some variance. I don’t know.
What’s stranger is the circumstance. I can sleep any time I want to, sometimes it’s the easiest way to pass an eternity, but I’ve never seen the night. The pale-red sky never darkens. In fact, I don’t think there’s even a sun up there; just those gliding things. The air temperature never snaps nor waves, nor so much as wavers. I’ve tried very hard. I’ve stayed up for what must be several consecutive days, but there’s no change. Maybe the determination to stay up so long just makes one day feel so much longer. It’s impossible to say.
One of the few things I’ve never tried in all that time, never so much as noticed, is the key. When I wake up, it’s still there. I sit up, fold the sheets nicely, and ponder it. I think and think, but nothing comes to mind. All I can see is that beautiful forest, the rushing stream below and before me. I think, and think that that’s all that really matters. So I move to embrace it. I close my eyes and steady myself, but when the moment comes, it happens. The racket begins from next door again, and I’m shunted out of my own mind.
The plain grey walls are boring as compared to the lovely trees. That song, the noise she repeats over and over again seems to echo all around me, and I feel irritation building. It’s barely even music anymore. I raise my fist, about to bang on the wall again, then pause. Instead, I call out,
“Hey, do you mind? I can’t feel myself when you’re singing!” Slowly, the noise slows and stops. What must be her voice responds,
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is so.”
“Then have you stopped to consider that I can’t concentrate to sing when you’re thinking?” This puzzles me somewhat.
“What does that even mean?”
“Every so often I get a strange sensation. It’s a pressure inside my head, almost like a headache. But… It isn’t quite…” I begin to say,
“That’s all very well but-” but she seems to get swept up in her speech.
“What’s more, when it happens it feels like I’m not here anymore. No, I can barely make out a lush wood all around me. Sometimes I can even hear a stream rushing along close by.” She waits, and I’m taken aback.
“What? Am I wrong that you have something to do with that?” she says. Again she pauses, but I have nothing to say. I’m paralyzed by the stare I know she’s giving me through that grey concrete wall.
“It’s actually quite nice in that head of yours, I must admit. I enjoy being in that woodland. But all the while I can’t help but hate you. Why should you get to dream while I can’t sing? Do you have anything to say?”
At this point, I notice the key dangling next to the cell door. I’d almost forgotten about it. Focusing on it instead of her, my mind begins to work again. Slowly, it pieces together my swimming thoughts and emotions, and I finally speak.
“Why are we all here?” There is a pause.
“I don’t think anyone could answer that question for you,” she says. Her tone softens immensely.
“No, I mean why are we here specifically?”
“I just told you. I don’t think anyone could answer that… Maybe the warden? If you’re desperate.” A brief silence breaks out as I ponder this.
“Have you ever seen a key somewhere in your cell? Bright and brassy, maybe beside the door?” After a moment she said,
“No, I can’t say that I have. But now that you mention it…” She never finishes the thought. We leave the conversation dangling for some time. I stare at the key for what feels like hours, and I assume she does too. As time passes, though, it gets harder to maintain concentration. I can see the beautiful forest flashing in front of me, hear the stream rushing before and below me. It happens only for a second at a time or so in my sight at first, but it comes to last longer and longer. It comes to the point where I feel like I’m more looking in the direction of the key than looking at it. It’s not so bad.
Eventually I give up with the wall, and focus more on the landscape; observing its beautiful curves and glistening green vegetation. Like tendrils wrapping around my mind, I feel someone watching me. Somehow not in a malicious way. It’s nice to feel noticed, but the feeling doesn’t last. Before I can fully lose myself, the noise begins again; the beautiful shrieking of the one next door. I can hardly bear it, but I also can’t bring myself to stop her. I’ve discomforted her for so long the same way she has been me. I wanted to dream and lose myself in nature’s beauty, but she wanted to lose herself in the song. Should I feel that joy now, or let her? I see no way to decide. My hand, bunched tightly in a fist, grows sore as I contemplate. Fortunately, I don’t have to make the choice. After some time, I hear a guard approach and begin wanging its truncheon about the door. The singing stops, but in the guard’s presence I can’t dream. Instead, I choose the next best thing. I pack myself under the thin covers and fall into the dreamless sleep.
When I next awaken, something feels different somehow. Even as I’m just looking at the ceiling I know it. It’s something about the way the air flows around me; it doesn’t feel still at all. I also can’t see the weird shadows cast by the corners. How strange. I appear to be in a much larger room. I lift my arm to rub the sleep from my eyes, when I hear a sudden voice shout out,
“Good! You’re awake!” I quickly sit up and scan the room. It is circular instead of rectangular, and the entirety of the wall seems to be a giant glass window. All that breaks it up is a single door in front of me. I’m sitting on some strange bed-pedestal at the center, with strange machinery all around. Between me and the door is a well-dressed man with salt and pepper hair and a smile on his face.
“You must be wondering, ‘Where could I be?’ right now,” he says. Before I can speak, he continues, “Well then, congratulations! You’ve passed the first test. It gets harder from here.” Finally, he stops speaking.
“You know what,” I quickly say. “You look familiar. Have we met?” The man softly chuckles.
“No, I do not believe we have. That’s a mixed sign, though. A good question, but it means the place is getting to you. But to answer your question, I am the warden.” I smile, making a connection while still a bit groggy.
“Oh, yes. We were just talking about you, actually.” The warden’s smile slowly degrades into something more neutral, perhaps a bit concerned.
“Is that so?” His voice is as cheerful as ever. “Who would we happen to be?”
“Just me and the one in the cell next to mine. She likes to sing.” Slowly, the warden backs away to the far side of one of the machines. He motions as if pressing something, then walks back up to me. His smile returns.
“I’m happy to hear you have been able to socialize in your short time here. In fact, that’s actually why you’re here now.” I wait for him to finish the thought, but he simply stands there looking at me.
“Why am I here?”
“In due time. But first-” he runs behind one of the machines and wheels a chair over to where I am. “Tell me about that key.” I must have looked particularly puzzled, because his smile turned directly to a frown.
“What key, again?” I ask. I feel very strange about the question, as if the answer were on the tip of my tongue.
“The one in your cell? You mean you don’t remember?” The key in my cell? I close my eyes and remember. All I can see is my dream, the green forest and rushing water. I know that can’t be it, in no small part because none of it’s a key. Softly, mixed with the roaring stream I can make out the deep voice of the warden saying,
“Are you dreaming in there?” I try harder, mentally sifting through each and every detail. Slowly, the scene begins to fade, and I can see myself as I was the time before. I can hear it too, the noise from next door. There on the wall I see a dimly shining brass key. As if breaking out of a trance, my eyes jolt open and I shake my head. I blurt out,
“You mean the brass key?” The warden’s smile returns once again.
“Yes, exactly that one. Can you tell-” The door creaks open behind the warden. A woman dressed in a white uniform walks in and over to the warden. He looks up at the woman and says,
“Yes, could you place subject N-43 on the queue for analysis?” She nods, then turns and walks out of the room. The door closes behind her. “Apologies. What was I saying?” The warden continues, “Can you tell me anything about that key?” I take a deep breath, and look up at the the ceiling as I think.
“Not really. I feel like it should be something familiar, but in reality it just seemed to appear in my cell one day.”
“Very interesting. When did you first see it?”
“I don’t know. About two rests ago?” The warden nods slowly.
“Yes, time can be tricky. Now, I’ll be right back.” He stands up from his seat and walks out of the room. I’m suddenly alone with all the strange machinery. Looking about the room, I can see so much more out of the windows than I can out of my small cell window. Aside from the pale red sky there is also a red field stretching out to the horizon one way and red rock mountains in the distance out another way. I find it all boring. Instead, I close my eyes and try to dream. As before, I see the green forest spreading before me for miles. I hear the leaves rustling in the cool wind above me, and the rushing stream below me. This time something feels different. Everything is accounted for except… The presence. Panickedly, I search the area. I even feel a slight need to call out, but it seems pointless. It is nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t matter so much, however, as again I’m awakened, this time by the shouting of the warden.
“Come now! You were doing so well! Don’t ruin it now with that terrible dream!” My eyes open, and the lights feel brighter than before. I see the warden tinkering with one of the machines, attaching the tube of one to what looks like an oversized plunger. He places the plunger over the top of another machine, then takes something from a receptacle at the side of it. He picks up a clip board which was hiding atop one of the machines, then sits down before me again. He is holding the thing he grabbed, a steel rod with a point at one end, as if it were a pencil. He looks at me, a humorless expression on his face.
“Tell me all about that dream,” he says.
“I thought you didn’t want me to-”
“I don’t want you to dream, I want you to tell me about it. See the difference?” he interjects. I suppose I do. I tell him about it all. I describe the verdant forest, with its tranquil trees and ever-rustling leaves. I talk about the calming wind which cools me from the warm sun. I tell him about the stream which rushes along below and before me. All these things we’ve come to know so well, and which I never seem to get bored of. All the while, I see him scribbling on the clip board with the rod. As much as he does so, nothing seems to get written on the page. Not so much as an indent.
I talk and I talk for as long as I feel like I need to, setting the beautiful scene. Then, I hesitate. The warden looks up at me and asks,
“Is that all?” It isn’t. I still haven’t described the presence, but I feel something urging me not to. A few moments pass without anything being said. In this time I find myself frozen in my seat. The warden stares at me intensely, similarly unmoving. There is no malice in his eyes, and no comfort. His gaze becomes yet another force inside my mind, this one urging me to let go. In the face of this soundless probe, I recognize the other urge to be a voice.
That’s good, I hear from nowhere in particular. Whose voice? It’s a good question. Whose voice is it? I close my eyes to think, but it just makes it all louder. I can hardly bear it. I’m about to open my eyes when it hits me. No, it’s not just louder. It’s all much clearer! Some fuzziness I hadn’t recognized before is suddenly stripped away, and I hear the debate as best I ever could. From the one side, all I get is a sickening feeling of reproach, an indirect pressure to share.
Can you really trust them with your dreams? All they’ll do is tear them away from you! You’ll never be happy then! shouts the other in a feminine voice; a voice which I feel I absolutely should recognize. Who could it be?
“Are you dreaming again?” comes the warden’s voice from the outside. I would like to assure him I’m not, but I’m utterly paralyzed. Where could I have heard this before? I think and think, trying to recall everything I can. More time passes, I’m sure only seconds but it feels like days. Then it hits me. It’s her voice, the one next door. Why is she in my mind at all?
The voice begins changing. Its shouting becomes more melodic, eventually becoming a song. I don’t dislike it so much this time. My mind shifts as well, changing from the black backdrop of pure thought into the bright tranquility of my dream. Only now there is another sound to compete with the leaves and the stream. I turn left, left, left, unsure of who would be waiting, or if I would even get the chance to see this time. I did have some thoughts, however. First comes the arm, then the white sleeve. Next comes long strands of black hair. I can’t say why, but this time I see the entire person. Standing before me is a woman with long black hair obscuring her face, singing the strangest song I have ever heard.
“She’s here too,” I say. The warmth of the sun fades until the cool breeze is all that remains, and the landscape fades to black.
My eyes shoot open, and immediately I see the warden staring at me, less intensely than before and with one eyebrow raised.
“Who is there too?” he asks.
“I don’t know for certain, but I think it is the one from the cell next door.”
“The one you were talking with?” I hesitate for a moment.
“Yes.” The warden sits back in his chair, and his face relaxes again.
“Did you ever really care about who it was before now? Is it even important to you now?” I had to give that some thought.
“Not really, I suppose. I was always curious, but it never seemed to be an urgent matter. I was always awakened before I got a good look.”
“But you felt hurried this time?”
“For lack of a better word.” For another few moments nobody speaks, Each of us just looks at the other, expectant of something. Eventually, the warden lets out a sigh.
“You don’t know why you’re here, do you? You must be somewhat curious.” I loosely shake my head.
“Somewhat, I guess, but nothing here feels so urgent that I have any specific questions. Honestly, I’d much rather be dreaming.”
“And, of course, that’s the problem. You know every detail about that landscape. Tell me about another one.” I stop to think, unsure of what to say. A few minutes must have passed or he must have seen a panic in my eyes, because the warden at one point offers,
“Tell me about a desert.” I close my eyes and try to conjure the picture of a desert. I know deserts are sandy. Sometimes there’s an oasis. The basic landscapes flash against the black background, but not for very long. Something else fades in, unyielding. All I can see is the beautiful, verdant forest. All I can hear is the rushing stream before and below me.
“Can’t you do it?” comes the warden’s voice, now more disappointed than anything else. I open my eyes and shake my head, wildly confused.
“That’s strange,” I say. “I… can’t. All I can see is my dream.”
“Tell me, what is your dream?”
“I already described it to you.”
“No, I mean what is it? Why do you dream it? What is so special about it?” I think for a moment.
“It is the one place I’d rather be than anywhere else.” The warden again scribbled on his clipboard.
“Why is that?”
“I… I’ve never really thought about it. It just seems so peaceful.”
“But it’s peaceful here, isn’t it? As long as you don’t dream you have all the time to do whatever you like.”
“Not while the one next door is singing.”
“But she shouldn’t be doing that the same as you shouldn’t be dreaming. You’ve seen yourself that she’s stopped by the guards.”
“Well it just isn’t the same!” I verge on shouting. “Here I’m trapped in a cell! I’ve been held for so long, and there I can see all I want to see.” At this the warden raises one eyebrow.
“Well, forgive me if I’m incorrect, but it sounds like you never go anywhere in your dream either. You’re always sitting in the same place, at best only ever able to turn. ” I don’t know what to say.
“Tell me,” he continues, his face lightly blushing. “Have you ever considered anything beyond that wood? For whatever reason you can’t, and that’s all there is in there. On top of that, you only have the most basic kind of curiosity. It sounds like another kind of trapped to me!” He pauses for a minute or so as he goes from florid to standard.
“It just doesn’t feel the same…” I softly say. The warden lets out a heavy sigh.
“Of course you don’t… Earlier you were wondering why you’re here. Well, it’s because you’re here that you’re here if you understand. I’m here with you to analyze why you’re here, and I think I’ve figured it out.” Suddenly, he stands up and pushes his seat to the side. “Bear with me for a moment.”
The warden makes his way over to one of the machines behind me. Into some receptacle he jabs his metal utensil, then he types something on an attached keyboard. We wait for a few moments in a peaceful silence. For what I don’t know, yet somehow the prospect doesn’t worry me. Then, with no indication that anything happened, the warden pulls out the utensil and returns to his seat. He hands it to me, along with the clipboard, and says,
“I would like you to write me something. Anything at all.” I take them both. Looking closely, I can see that the utensil now has some black substance splattered over its tip. Carefully, I think of what to write. The answer is obvious. I should write down my dream, to be saved forever on paper. Yet, somehow that doesn’t feel quite right. After some minutes pass I feel a new urge forming.
Write about the red, it says. From my seat, I lean out to get a better look out the windows. Then I set to it, quick and simple.
“Beneath the pale red sky lie the flowing plains and mountains high.” Perhaps a bit forced, but it’s something.
Immediately the warden grabs the objects from my hands and scans the paper.
“Marvelous. You’ve made some decent progress.” He tosses them both away and looks up at me. “I’m so glad it’s ended this way.”
“What do you mean? I wrote one sentence.”
“You don’t see it, but it is there. Now then, I’m afraid you must be going. We do have quite the list behind you.” He reached out to shake my hand, and I took it. He smiled as we released. Then, out of nowhere, I began to feel drowsy. As I faded into the empty blackness, the last thing I heard was a gentle,
“I hope you’ve learned something today. Come in number…”
When I awoke, I didn’t feel all that different. Had I dreamed it all? If so, it was the first dream I’d had while asleep in a long time. I rose from the bed and looked around my cell. Paying more attention, everything felt much greyer somehow. Everything except the key, somehow, which still gleamed brassy and bright in the light. I turned around and stared out the back window at the strange red landscape. Why is it red? I’d never thought too much about it. I sat and listened. Surprisingly, I heard nothing from the cell next door. Instead, I heard something far away, something new. It was a gentle splash, splash in the distance. I got up and stuck my head as close to out the window as I could between the bars. It took some time for my eyes to adjust, but there it was. At the edge of the horizon I could make out a deep red body of liquid splashing against the land. Whether it was a lake or an ocean I could not know. How had I never noticed something like that before, anyway?
I stare for some time, the relative silence never breaking. Soon enough, a new sight grows old, and I return to sitting on the bed. More time passes, and I grow bored. So, I close my eyes and begin to dream. Again I see the shady trees and hear the rushing water, yet something feels different. There’s none of the magic there was before. I recognize it’s an obviously beautiful place, but for whatever reason I’m just not interested. I sit at the stream for a few moments, thinking about what to think about, when suddenly it hits me. As soon as it does, the landscape around me changes. The forest fades, and I find myself on the rusty shore of the deep red water. Behind me is the endless flowing field of red grass, and above are several of the strange gliding things casting their shadows. All I hear is the gentle wish-ing of the grass with the wind, as well as the endless lap-lap-lap splash-ing of the water. After a moment of just sitting there, I hear a voice in my head, this time it’s my voice, saying,
Why dream when you could go there? I open my eyes, and the urging continues. It is a good idea. But there’s a problem.
What problem is that? There happens to be a locked door in the way. I lie back on the bed, somewhat defeated. I guess I’ll have to spend the rest of time in boredom. I stay like that for a few minutes, feeling the lumpy mattress below me, staring up at the dull grey concrete ceiling. Then I notice something, a bright, brassy stripe among the grey. I look to where it points, and there it is- the key. What could it be for? I never got a straight answer. Then, only a foot or so to the left, I see the cell door. Its keyhole is surprisingly obvious. There’s no way…
I rise from the bed and grab the key. Slowly, I insert it into the door. I hesitate for a moment before turning it. What if something catches me? I’ll never know, because as I turn the key I hear a faint click followed by the door creaking ajar. When I peek my head outside, there’s no one. No guards is surprising, but what’s stranger is that all the cells I can see are empty, even the ones I looked into just… However long ago.
Unsure of what to do next, I run down the walkway. Clearly, I can see now that I’m on the fourth floor of infinitely many. What luck! Stairs won’t be too much of a problem. The walkway terminates at one large central building, at the top of which I can see a large disk. Inside is a stairwell, in which I can hear my footsteps echoing infinitely, yet nothing else. I try to be quiet even so. What happens if a guard catches me?At the bottom, the staircase ends in a single, square room. Three of the sides, including the one I came from, open into staircases. The fourth has a large metal door. Brazenly, since nothing can stop me now, I push open the door. It makes a loud creak, but it’s no matter. Through the doorway I gaze upon the vast red fields, and all the way away I can hear the lapping waves. I take one step out the door, and finally I realize: I’m free.