Every day, I wake up, do my job, eat, and then go to sleep. It’s the way it’s always been and it’s the way I expected it to go for however long I’m alive. I work for The Machine. An endless land of grotesque spires, thin bridges, and an abyss below; leading to more of the same, damnable architecture. It’s all I know for real, and all I will ever know as such.
I’m an engineer of sorts. I repair sleeping capsules, meant only for the higher-ups. The sleeping capsules are the only reason I’m so spiteful to the world around me, and not apathetic. It was due to a test I was allowed to conduct on one of the capsules. I remember it so vividly, slipping into the capsule and watching the gray, formless world around me fade away into a stark white. I lived there for what seemed like decades. A whole life where I forgot about The Machine if only for a brief time. I had a wife, and children. I died in their arms. But I just awoke into my normal world with something foreign alongside me. Something to remind me of the world before.
Tears flooded my vision as all the emotion hit me. A burst of raw, unbridled anguish, anger, and… joy. A spark of something greater. But it was all dulled to the whistling of the wind against the many pipes, geometric angles, and sleek metal surfaces of the buildings. For once, I heard music in that whistling.
Every day after, I took notice of the vile, pale figures passing me, eyes ahead and empty, bodies naked as The Machine made it the perfect temperature. Did I look like that? Once, I remember seeing a worker fall off of a bridge across from me. Just dropped right down and yet still maintained that apathetic, emotionless look on its face; not even so much as a sound from its mouth. The others just shuffled past as if nothing happened.
That was the day I decided I wanted to escape. Somehow, I wanted to get away from The Machine. But for all I know it had no end. How would I get out? Do I really want out? All these questions yet no answers. The old me would have no desire for answers, but now, I needed them. More than anything. So I went searching. I left my post one day, it felt wrong, like I was going to be punished. But for as long as I remember I have never seen any living thing besides the husks wandering, the same as I not long ago. What kept us working for The Machine? Just another question to add to my list. I wandered for a long time, I can’t say exactly how long, but nothing changed. I felt so alone even with the floods of workers passing in the opposite direction of me.
Finally I took notice of the horizon, the brown-gray, foggy horizon. On it I saw the normal spires and bridges, but one thing stood out. A spire, bigger than the others, with a bulb on top. A good enough place to start my search for answers. And thus I began the long trek to the tower.
I walked past many workers on my way there, some tall, some short, different skin tones, different bodies, all skinny. Eventually I became too tired to continue walking, but where would I sleep? My small, metal box is all I knew as a home.
I decided to sleep in a little hideaway in one of the spires, a little place where the pipes gave way to a damp, warm, oily spot on the floor. In the morning I awoke to crowds shuffling to their jobs. In the crowd I spotted someone’s eyes darting to mine, before darting away. Something wasn’t right about them. I tried to find them in the crowd, but I lost sight of them in the sea of faces. They were like me, they knew what the world before was like, just as I. My journey was too important to delay though. I let it go.
After a series of similar events and more… bizarre ones I don’t wish to reveal; I finally found my way to the tower. A large, rusty metal door loomed ominously in my path. Everyone walked around it, paying no mind. I gripped the large handles, the smell of oil and body odor suddenly coming into focus. I started to pull. With a creak and a rush of musty, mildew, and oil scented air, the door opened. Nothing but darkness beyond.
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me. I stood still, waiting for my eyes to adjust. As they did it revealed small figures in the darkness. Not children, but just very small people. No taller than the height of my knee. I looked on in confusion as they did the same. I elected to just push forth, and I did so. The little workers moved out of my way, they didn’t have the same apathetic look as the rest of the workers. They looked alive.
I pushed open another door, and walked on into a great room. In the center of the room was a large tube, with a single window knee height looking in. On the sides of the tube there were many screens, displays, buttons and other controls. At least fifty of the little workers were at the controls paying me no mind. I bent down and peered into the huge tube. Within normal workers floated in a clear, brownish tinted liquid. I couldn’t see how many there were but one thing was consistent, a cable from their stomachs all leading to a large circular vessel at the bottom of the tube, looking like an octopus. I didn’t see much else before a disgruntled little worker shoved me out of the way to peer into the tube.
I looked closer around the room. The walls had catwalks and interior walkways in which the workers did their jobs. Were they in all of the spires or just this one? Looking off to the left side of the great room I saw an old mining elevator. I remembered it from my false-life. I boarded it and pressed a button with a large up arrow set on a bright yellow control pad. The gates closed as I started to ascend.
I cannot tell how long I rose, but soon enough, after traveling through dark, damp chutes with jutting pipes and more small workers, I finally made it to a strange door, sealed shut, like an elevator I would have encountered in my false-life. I started to pry the door open with a grunt, the first time I have heard my own voice since I wept. A visceral realization hit me. I have never strained in my life. Never tried hard enough to struggle. I was made for my job. Made for every step I took. I am in completely unknown territory. Somewhere I was never meant to go.
After a few more minutes of straining I managed to get the door open. Inside the room was the most beautiful thing I have seen in my waking life. Red emergency lights and deep, pale green walls. With a deep breath I breathed in musty, stale air, something like old paper. Something new, something different from the oil and human stink of the outside world. Taking a step in, I noticed how pristinely the room was kept. Not a speck of dust anywhere. There were rows of chairs and computers lining the walls, with a central walkway leading to a main control panel set. On the wall of said control panels there were two windows looking out to The Machine. Peering out of the windows made me realize that up here is no different than below, where I was before. Everything looked the same. “Hmph.” I said to myself in the red glow. Looking to the central terminal I spotted several directories. “Answers.” I thought. Sitting down, I pressed a few buttons and made my way to the logs. I skimmed through some but they were mundane and contained few mentions of anything besides life at the time. Before The Machine. Eventually I made it to the last entry. The answers I wanted were all there.
It detailed revolutionary technology allowing the mass production of “lesser” people, mentally inhibited from feeling the full range of human emotion. Slaves without the need for morality checking. But soon humanity was ready to get away from Earth. Ready to take the next step in our civilization’s evolution. They left us. Left us to continue our duties and original orders. To expand at the most efficient rate, to grow.
Reading on, I realized that the “higher-ups” don’t exist. There is no such thing. In addition, there are thousands of towers identical to the one I am in now. Thousands have made my journey, and billions have experienced false-lives. Or are currently experiencing them. The terminal explained what they were. The false-world is subjective, perception of time, mental ability, and duration of lives are entirely random. They were made for us. The original humans pitied us.
I don’t know an exact number of how many are within the false-world. Nobody will know until they awake. Being an engineer I managed to alter the sleeping capsule to allow me to remember The Machine. I want to make a call for arms. We need to deconstruct and destroy The Machine, because we’re clinging to it. The mindless workers, and the abominable structures, they are The Machine.
I think I was meant for this journey, I can’t exactly say how, but I believe that the originals gave us the capsules for something other than just pity. Anyway, enjoy it here while you can, but when you awake, don’t forget. Live not for The Machine, but for us.