Remembrance, the “Sequel,” if you will, to Amnesia

 

I am not alone. The lone thought wandered through my mind like a ribbon in the wind for what seemed like an eternity. One by one, more thoughts slowly began to form around it in the same fashion. A sea of ribbons twisting and dancing around in my cerebral juices. They do not touch, for connection would lead to understanding, and understanding is the last thing that I had.

I didn't make it to my closet. I don't know where I am. I don't remember coming here. I am not alone. I become aware of a being, an entity. Consciousness came with a flood and I was certain that the being was me.

Awaken. My eyes snapped to attention at the command, and my eyelids slowly receded. I was not blinded by an overwhelming light, as I expected, but was met with more darkness. I laid there and waited for the timid shapes to come out of hiding, to undergo the scrutiny of my newfound sight. When none were forthcoming, I retreated back into my mind to attempt to make sense of my thoughts. I quickly found that I was able to add more ribbons of thought to the whirlwind.

I am currently on a bed. I smell of dirt and moss. There are straps around my legs and torso. I didn't make it to my closet. I don't know where I am. I don't remember coming here. There’s a stinging sensation in my arm. I am not alone. The whirlwind quickly became a tempest as my senses registered my surroundings, and yet, no thoughts were connecting. The tempest began to batter me. I became lost within its dismal currents. It threatened to tear me to shreds. Then, like a shabach from a heavenly trumpet, that one blissful, wondrous, scandalous thought sounded above the din and silenced all the rest.

Peace, be still. I released my pent up breath. Peace. A smile crept across my face. Scandalous, indeed. The ribbons of thought froze in midair and fluttered their way to the base of my mind. They gathered themselves into a light mound, guided by a nonexistent breeze. The reaction was like that of a nuclear explosion, albeit a tranquil one. As the ribbons began to connect, understanding was reached. In that instant, I knew what had happened to me and what I had to do to get revenge.

Amnesia

My mind crawled out of darkness, and I opened my eyes to black. What happened? I was in the apartment... and went to the fridge to get milk... It was expired, that's right! I was heading back to my room to throw on some clothes to run to the gas station for some more... Then what? Did I make it to the closet? No, I don't think I did. There was a creak. I need to get oil for the door...

Where am I? I think I'm sitting on grass, so I must be outside... Maybe I did make it to my closet... No, I would have remembered wrestling the mountain of junk. I need to clean my closet too... Well, there is a breeze so I am definitely outside... Unless I left my window up... But I would be able to hear those kids' obnoxious music if my window was up.

Ok. The facts: I am outside. I didn't make it to my closet. I don't remember coming here.

Here's another thing I just noticed. I appear to be hogtied... Great, just great. I have been kidnapped by some psycho and no one will know until Carrie comes by the apartment tomorrow after work.

"This is not good."

"Huh? You're awake? Well this should take care of that."

I felt a needle prick my forearm, and bit back a cry. After I swallowed my shock, I reviewed the facts in my mind again. I am not in my apartment. I didn't make it to my closet. I don't know where I am. I don't remember coming here. I am not alone.

With that last thought, my mind slipped back into darkness...

Revenge

 

I sit.

That’s what I do now.

Sit and stare.

Sit in the metal chair and stare at the wall.

At least the wallpaper in my room is patterned. I get lost in it for hours—all of the different images jump out at me. It is only for a second, though. Then it fades away, never to be seen again as another takes it’s place.

I never thought that I would end up locked in one of these rooms. An experiment, of sorts, gone awry. I remember the day the idea came to us. It was just a lonely, innocent idea at first. However,  I suppose the human condition eventually had to worm it’s way into it. Why didn’t we stop before it got so out of hand?

The plan was to create a world. A world where two people could meet while on two sides of the globe. A virtual reality room, basically. For time’s sake, let’s just call it “The Room.” We truly got creative once the original model was completed. After three years of hard work, we began to test the limits of The Room. We discovered that pain could be inflicted upon the “Clients” in The Room. Not physical pain as we know it, but similar. This pain is a psychological pain, but it feels very much physical to the one who feels the pain. This is because in The Room, your mind is not aware that it is not actually attached to the virtual being present. Therefore, when the pain is inflicted, the brain tells yourself that you are hurt. I should have put a stop to the whole thing before it even started. Now it is much too late.

Our first test subject, we will call him Bill, was our last. We had developed programs within The Room, called Visitors, to cause Bill pain. We then studied the effects the experiment had on Bill’s actual body. The Visitors perform their task wonderfully, I must say. Despite a skyrocketing heart rate, which we expected, Bill’s body was not harmed. After a few controlled tests, we tweaked the Visitors’ coding and the heart rate monitor was connected to the Visitors’ programs. This allowed for the Visitors to know when Bill was about to have a heart attack and back off with the pain. The point, to inflict the maximum amount of pain without killing the victim. We rationalized that we could sell The Room and it’s Visitors to the government to use on terrorists and the like. We thought we were doing society a favor.

There was one factor that we overlooked in the experiment—the strength of a broken and angry man. When Bill came out of testing, he overpowered us and trapped us in our own creation. The Room, our brainchild, had been turned against us.

As I sit, I realize how wrong we were.

How wrong we were, to believe that what we were doing was good.

As I sit, I hear a sound.

I hear a sound behind me.

The sound behind me is the twisting of a doorknob.

I cringe in my seat.

I cringe in my seat because the Visitors are back.

The Visitors are back,

and I know what they do.

I know what they do because I made them to do it.

The Roadside Diner

"What can I getcha, Hon?"

The waitress's question almost pulled me from the barrage of images that were pummeling my mind. Almost. They kept coming like a flood that would whisk me away to a place I didn't want to go back to. The flat tire. The dark forest. The barn. Stephanie. The silhouette running towards us. The gunshot. The -

"Hon, you alright?"

The overweight waitress holding her steaming hot coffee pot was trying to read my nervous eyes from her position behind the bar. "No, not at all," I said with a forced smile, "but a donut and a cup of regular might help."

"Donuts and coffee ain't gonna touch what's eatin' at you, Hon. I can see it in your eyes," she said as she tossed a donut on the plate in front of me and poured some coffee into a cup she produced from under the bar. "Now why don't you just tell good ol' Aunt Bertha what's diggin' at you."

"Ha! Do you have all day?"

"That right there is the pleasure of workin' a nine-to-five at a roadside cafe- All the time in the world."

"Well, I'm not sure where I should start. Last night still isn't very clear."

"Oh Hon! You haven't taken to the drink, have you?”

I couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "No ma'am. I don't drink."

"Good man. My ex-husband used to come home drunk every night. One day I looked myself in the mirror, and you know what I told myself? I said 'Bertha Sue, you don't have to put up with this.' So you know what I did? I gathered up my kids and I left him. No man's gonna come up and push me around. No sir! Don't you forget it, either. Oh, I'm sorry Hon, you want me to fill your coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem Hon, now what about your story. You got me some kind of curious, and I ain't the curious kind."

So I began, telling the tale of what happened to me last night. And of what was taken from me...

 

-Aaron