The Contrivances of Humanity

The silence of the night felt pleasurable as he glared towards the city lights in the distance from the balcony of his apartment. He could hear the faint noises that the streets were producing at that hour, the rustling of the leaves as the wind caressed them, the sound of the contact between the bottle in his hand and the railing. He took a swig which rendered the bottle empty, threw it in the darkness and went inside. The television was switched on, but his attention was more towards the floor rather than the attractively dressed host welcoming the contestants on a show that he barely cared about. Albeit the sound of the TV was a little louder than usual, it wasn't reaching him; all he could hear was the bellows of the departed. As tears found their way down the ridges of his face and pain overtook his body once again, he thought about the promise he had made to his friends. He stood up, made his way towards the piece of furniture, conveniently placed at the center of the room, and climbed it with whatever strength he had left in his body. The noose around his neck felt like a release from the anguish that his heart had refused to let go; the regret that had made its home in his mind. As his hand gently touched the rope around his neck, he could feel the rare comfort that he felt around his cellmates, and their faces were all he could imagine at that moment. “I’m sorry” he murmured, before knocking the stool from under him.

-----------------------------

"Where am I?” he said as he opened his eyes to find himself in a room that could only be described as a decrepit, hollow, concrete cube.

“No idea, mate.” said another man who seemed as clueless as the one who asked. “You’ve been out for quite some time now. This one and I were about to just chop ya and eat ya.” the heavy Australian accent didn’t make it sound less horrifying. He looked at the other man standing at the corner of the room and tried to say something before he got interrupted, “I’m just kiddin, mate. Not a lotta humor goin around here, is it? The name’s Ed, by the way”, he let out his hand “C’mon now, get up and introduce yourself.”

“I can’t remember...”

“No worries, mate. We couldn’t remember our real names either. Just give yourself a name and you’ll be right.” said Ed, slightly more welcoming now.

“I-I don’t know! What’s happening? What is this place? Where am I?”

“Mate, if I knew then I’d have surely told ya by now. I’m also stuck here, just like you lot, ain’t I?” he looks at the other two people beside him in the room. There’s a long silence before he continues, “Now, if you just give yourself a name then we can talk a little more... effortlessly, aye?”

“H-hank? Just call me Hank.”

“Not as creative as I thought, but who am I to say anything about that.” Ed gave out a chuckle before sitting down on the cold, damp ground beside Hank. “I know you got questions Hank and as I told ya earlier, I don’t have answers for ya. I don’t know when we were brought here, but I know that I woke up 2 days ago and found meself here.” he taps his index finger on his temple “See, I got a clock in me head, that’s why I’m able to tell.”

“It seems like some sort of a prison.” said the man, eluding the darkness of the corner that contained him “Oh, sorry! I’m Jack.” he waved rather than presenting his hand for a shake.

-----------------------------

Day 1

From what I’ve gathered till now, I arrived at this place 2 days ago, but I regained my consciousness mere hours ago. There are two more people here, other than me of course, and they are as unaware about the situation as I am, it seems. The place looks like a cube with no windows, doors or space for ventilation; it looks like a futuristic prison of sorts. There is the provision of basic necessities like food, water, a place to shit, etcetera etcetera... Why am I here? What am I doing here? Why can’t I remember anything?

We have given ourselves names as we all seem to be suffering from a major case of amnesia. The one with an Aussie accent has named himself Ed and the other, more normal guy, has named himself Jack. I couldn’t think of any other name, and I was slightly intimidated by Ed’s demeanor, so I just chose the first name that came to my mind, Hank. They genuinely seem as clueless as me, which worries me a lot. They say the food for the day is delivered when everyone has slept at night, but how it gets here is still an unknown fact. We have also been given three separate beds to sleep on alongside a diary of our own to probably record our day to day activities. Maybe this is a science facility and we are their guinea pigs; a viable scenario.

I’ve been trying to remember something so that I'm at peace, but my efforts have led to nowhere. I’m still confused about this place, the people who are with me and the reason for me being here. I think I can think more clearly if I rest my eyes. Having said that, I’ll sign off for tonight.

-----------------------------

“What are you doing?” inquired Hank.

“He’s still checking for a door.” Jack said hesitatingly, “We have done this numerous times, Ed. There is no door, no window, or any other hole in the wall through which we could escape.” his attention now directed solely towards Ed, “It has been more than 15 days now. I know your thoughts are running amok, but I need you to accept the reality; we are stuck here until someone sets us free.”

“I’m not going loony on ya, mate. Not so soon, anyway! I’m not doing this cus’ I think there’s a door; I’m doing this cus’ I know there is one.” Ed had their attention now “While you lot were sookin’ about and “accepting the reality”, I had an idea, and honestly mate, I don’t know why we never thought of it.” Ed took a good look at the two curious faces, staring right at him, and continued “I didn’t sleep last night. Which is how I know, now, that our food is brought by someone, or somethin, and not just fuckin teleported, or whatever we had been thinkin.” Jack and Hank were still stupefied by the fact that none of them thought of this idea.

“I gotta say, Ed, I underestimated you. You’re a fucking genius!” yelled Hank.

“Ta, my good mate.” Ed pointed at Hank and grinned “I say that we set up a plan; capture this thing, which will eventually lead us to the exit from this godforsaken dump, and we’ll be out resting with an esky full of grogs before anyone even says my name.” all the three thought about the opportunity of escape that had presented itself to them very cautiously, yet they didn’t have a clear idea of what they were up against. So, they did what seemed most reasonable to them at that time; went to bed early.

-----------------------------

Day 18

According to my calculation, I am writing after 3 days.

It took me 3 days to bolster myself into writing something, otherwise, I’d have gone insane. Jack is still not able to comprehend what happened a few days ago. We had it all under control; we had made a simple, yet good plan, but it didn’t work. What is this place? I thought it couldn’t have been anything more than a prank. I know myself, and I know that I am not capable enough of committing such a heinous crime which deserves this kind of imprisonment. I saw Ed get his head blown by that robot before it shattered itself to pieces. We still keep finding chunks of his flesh and brain around the cell. That man didn’t deserve this fate for doing something that he doesn’t even remember, and possibly didn’t even do. Is this someone’s sick joke for a game show or something? Are we being telecasted for others’ entertainment? Are people enjoying watching us ablate our cellmate’s brain from the walls and floor of this fucking cube?

Never in the last 15 days did I feel any kind of hostility from Ed. I keep hearing his voice, in his typical Australian accent, whenever I’m trying to sleep, and that's the funny part; I haven’t slept since he died. I long for the day when I’ll hear him say mate again, knowing full well that that day is behind us. That bastard must have worked out an idea once in his life, and it’s sad where it got him. I wish his soul gets the kind of love it deserves; more than the world was ever able to provide. Nothing seems good anymore. Not a lot of humor going around here now, is it Ed?

Jack is not doing well. He has been lying on his bed for the last 3 days, getting up only to comfort his bowels. I don’t know how long he’s going to keep up with that considering we haven’t had anything to eat because that stupid machine destroyed itself. I guess that was our only source of connection with the outside world; a self-destructing, killing machine that also worked as a caterer. We both are carrying the same pain and yet it seems like he was hit harder than I was. I wish he would talk to me, share the grief because I don’t see him getting out of this any other way around. I don’t know how much longer are we supposed to be in this place, but I understand that whenever we do get out, it won’t be alive.

-----------------------------

“Still no food?” inquired Jack, as he pushed himself off his bed and studied Hank’s demeanor “I can’t drink any more water. I am already feeling bloated and my digestion is fucked. We need to do it.”

“You mean, you need to do it? I would rather die than eat him.”

“We need to survive, Hank. I can’t do this without you, you know that.” Jack was in tears now. His vulnerable state of life was more visible to Hank than it had ever been. There was contempt in his determination to cut open their dead friend and relish his flesh for the sake of survival. Yet, there weren’t many choices presenting themselves now.

“What would he want us to do?” Hank asked. It was something that they hadn’t thought much about, but what else was there to be done with a headless body that was rotting in front of them. Deep down he had accepted the cards that were being dealt to him. The refusal to commit to cannibalism was nothing less than a sign of austere personality, which was fading away at a much faster rate than Ed’s body was decomposing. They both looked at each other before Hank picked up a sharp metal piece that had been a part of the machine that had killed Ed and made his way towards the inane hunk of flesh. He must have sat in front of it for what felt like hours to him. Jack, albeit trying to avoid, was still waiting for the initiation.

Just when he felt like he was ready, Hank plunged the metal inside Ed’s chest, possibly cracking his ribs, and made a big incision. His organs now as visible as sunlight in the morning, and Jack heaving over the sink, Hank proceeded to calm himself and get a good chunk of Ed’s flesh. That’s when he realized that it was too much for his body to fathom. It was clear that both of them had now lost their appetite, but they knew that sooner or later they would have to do what they failed to do now.

“You know, you didn’t need to cut him open”

“Yeah, surely fucking not; I am also losing my mind here. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew that we had to do something to survive. I did what I thought was right! Now, get out of there and let me clean myself” the frustration on Hank’s face was clear. Jack didn’t pursue to make any more efforts of conversation and went right back to bed, Hank followed suit. Both of them kept lying on their beds with their eyes open, thinking about their situation and the things they had been through.

-----------------------------

Close to a month

I have lost count of the number of days that we have spent in this prison. I needed to write today because I feel like we won’t be alive for long now. Jack is already giving up. We have been talking a lot and carrying each other through this situation. Both of us had to eat the flesh off of Ed’s body for some time; we didn’t have a choice. I still cut and eat a piece or two from his body just to satiate my hunger, but Jack has given up on the whole idea of surviving. He stopped drinking water a few days ago and hasn’t eaten anything for quite some time now. He grows weaker and weaker every day, and I don’t mean physically; he has been talking about killing himself. He even asked me to do it for him, just so he can relieve himself of this pain. I couldn’t do anything but decline.

We have started talking about our past lives in an off-chance of reviving any memories, but everything that we remember seems so superficial that we don’t know what to believe and what not to. Neither of us believes to have done anything which led us to this place, and yet we’re here. I am starting to question a lot of things. What is the point of keeping us here if we have no recollection of our past deeds? How are we supposed to reflect on what we have done we don’t even remember it? Am I actually capable enough to do something so abominable that I deserve such a punishment? If yes, then I’d sure like to know.

Jack says that he had two little kids and a wife whom he loved more than anything else in the world, but he can’t seem to remember their faces. He doesn’t remember what their names were and where he lived. The only names he remembers are of his parents’, which is reliving considering he doesn’t remember his own name, but he did say that he believes that his real name must be Jack as well. As for me, I still can’t remember anything. It seems like I didn’t have any life before this, or whatever I went through on a daily basis was just a sad excuse for a life. Maybe I came here to get away from it all. What if I agreed to be here? What if we all did? Asking questions is nothing but a futile.

I seriously don’t know how much more time of ours we can give to this cube before we either kill ourselves or die of starvation. I just hope it’s long enough to get saved by someone.

-----------------------------

Julien made his way to his home from the supermarket as soon as he got the alert on his mobile. He had a productive hour of shopping and had a few bags filled with groceries which would last him a few weeks. This way he can put all his time in his research, which he thought was as revolutionary, if not more, as the wheel. He took a cab which dropped him a mile away from his home, on his request, and paid extra 10 bucks to the driver for getting him to the destination so fast. It was of prime importance that nobody gets a clear idea of the location of his residence. Little could they imagine that he had bought 2 houses, side by side, connected to each other by a hidden passageway. The house he entered was nothing more than a front for his research lab, which could’ve been considered illegal given its nature. He would enter the basement after that from where he would open the hatch that was conveniently hidden under a rug. That hatch led him to his lab through a keypad, the code to which was known to no other but him. There lay his laboratory; looking nothing like one. He had a giant workstation in front of him, with multiple screens giving him the best view from inside the cube.

“Ah, finally! You’ve done it again.” he said through the microphone that was placed on his workstation.

“Who is that?” asked the distinctive voice from inside the cell.

“Hank, I am Dr Julien Markoff. Would you like to tell me why you killed him? And why did you take so long to do it?”

“You motherfucker, get me out of here!”

“Now, look Hank, abusing me would only get you so far, and I’m sure that is nowhere near to how further you’d like to go. You want to get out, don’t you? Then be cooperative.”

The soothing voice of the doctor was not nearly as effective as it had previously been, but that was exactly what he wanted. For Hank, this was his first connection with someone outside of the cube in over 1½ months. No matter how much he wanted to kill the person behind all this, he had to get out of the cube first to do that. The doctor knew who he was dealing with; this wasn’t his first time talking to hank.

“Are you ready to talk now, Hank?” the doctor was glancing at one of the screens which gave a full inside view of the cube. He didn’t get any answer to his question for a long time.

“Hank?” the doctor asked again, and he got an unpleasant nod as a reply. “So, begin by telling me why you killed him?”

Hank mustered some courage before he said, “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?” silence was his reply. “So, why is he dead Hank?”

“He killed himself.”

The doctor checked the camera recording to understand what Hank meant by Jack killing himself. He realized that Hank was indeed telling the truth; Jack committed suicide, cutting open his throat with the same piece of metal that Hank had used to lacerate Ed’s torso. There was a big smile on the doctor’s face now, the reason for which was known to only him.

“Hank, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I need you to listen to me very carefully now. I’m a scientist, most probably the first one to give birth to a machine that looks, act, breathes like a human. If you haven’t already deduced it, you’re not a human. If anything, you’re something much bigger and more important than a human. You following Hank?”

“Fuck you, doctor! Stop spewing shit like that and get me out of here. I told you everything I could, stop playing with my mind and let me go already. I can’t do this anymore, doctor. Please, let me go!”

The smile on the doctor’s face was broader than it was before.

“Relax, it’ll all be over soon.” the doctor pressed a button which filled the cube with an incapacitating agent or gas. One could say that the doctor had a cunning sense of humor because Hank seemed more at rest now than he had ever been in the last 50 days.

The doctor proceeded to open the door to the cube and enter inside for the first time that evening. He dragged the heavily drugged body of Hank and placed it on a chair outside the cube. As a precaution, he strapped his arms and legs to that chair. What followed was a rigorous exercise of performing household chores, with slight altercations; rather than dust, he had to get rid of the blood and the two bodies. He took out most of the furniture that he had kept inside the cube and replaced it with whatever seemed appropriate for his next experiment. When he was done setting up the cube for another experiment, he diverted his attention towards his subject, who was still in deep slumber. He dragged the chair and brought it close to his workstation. He took out a long cable and jammed it inside the port on Hank’s head.

“Slight modifications and augmentations to your memory and you’d be good to go, my dear friend. You wouldn’t remember me and the conversation we had earlier, but before we advance, I want you to know that you mean a lot to me. You’d soon be out of here and amongst the common folk if you keep on doing what you are doing.” he changed Hank’s clothes and cleaned his body thoroughly before taking him inside the cube again. He placed his body gently on the sofa, which had now taken the place of the sink and the toilet. He went out to his workstation and announced through the mic, “Initiate the apartment sequence.”

The cube, for the first time in months, changed its shape to accommodate the look of an apartment. The doctor looked at it in awe, even though this wasn’t his first time looking at this transition.

In a few hours, Hank had woken up from his deep slumber and was now glancing around the room like a lost lamb trying to find its mother. He got up from the sofa and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He walked towards the balcony and started looking at the night sky through the glass door. The silence filled the world outside and he could hear everything; faint noises that the streets were producing at that hour; the rustling of the leaves. He could tell that it was a night like no other, and yet it was the same night he had seen a hundred times.

--------------x--------------