The following is a record kept by ‘subject 419’. I will post it in its entirety.
***
It’s been eight days since I was abducted while walking to my car. A van pulled up beside me, I felt a pinch in my arm and woke up here.
Here is a twelve by twelve room with a concrete floor and a drop ceiling. There’s a metal toilet/sink combination in the corner and a steel bunk bolted to the wall. I have a worn mattress with a built-in pillow and a blanket. There are no windows only a vent that pumps in warm and cool air. The warm air comes in the morning and the cool air in the evening.
How can I tell time with no windows? The meals. I get eggs and toast in the morning, a ham sandwich at lunch, and beef stew for supper. Shortly after supper, the cool air comes in. I think it’s after the sun goes down and the cool evening air rolls in. The thought of air flowing through the vents that was outside gives me a little taste of freedom.
I’ve played good inmate, hoping to be let out simply because I’m boring. I pace the room in the morning, do some pushups in the afternoon, and explore every nook and cranny in the evening. I’ve tested every concrete block to see if any were loose. The only thing I haven’t done is try to break through the ceiling.
Why not? I’m not really sure. I suppose I’m holding out hope for the door to swing open and my captor says, “Sorry, we got the wrong person. I’ll take you back to your car now.”
Is it likely to happen, probably not, but isn’t that what hope’s all about?
The one thing that’s a constant in my captivity, aside from the food, is white noise. There’s a speaker built into the ceiling and it constantly plays white noise. I didn’t notice it right away. It took me a day or so to hear it. After the second day when I calmed down and settled into my routine, it registered. It’s strange to have such a companion. After a while, it ceases to sound like white noise. It begins to sound like other things. Sometimes I’ll hear sounds, like scratching on the floors and walls. Sometimes it’s voices calling my name. Sometimes it’s voices talking to each other completely ignoring me.
Day 9
I was asleep when I heard footsteps. The only time I hear footsteps is at mealtime when a small hatch slides open and my food is shoved through. I yawned and stretched feeling more tired than usual. I got up and went to the door in anticipation of breakfast but none came. Instead, the footsteps went past my door then stopped. I heard a door open and what sounded like a heavy burlap sack being dragged across the floor. Then the door shut and the footsteps went away.
I pondered this for a while then pushed it to the back of my mind and went to sleep.
I woke to the sound of breakfast being slid in through the hatch. I got up to get it, then froze. It wasn’t eggs and toast. It looked like oatmeal. For nine days they gave me eggs and now this. Why this sudden change? Is it poisoned? Does it have some knockout drug in it? I approach it like it’s a wild animal ready to attack me.
I stared at it for twenty minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. When they came back through to get the empty tray, the hand hesitated when it saw the food was untouched.
I sat curled up in the corner all morning thinking about the oatmeal. Why didn’t I just eat it? What made me distrust this change? At home, I didn’t eat the same thing every day for breakfast. Why would it be any different here? I was still pondering when lunch arrived. I looked forward to resuming my schedule but unfortunately, it wasn’t a sandwich, it was tomato soup.
I was thinking about my food changes when I heard a woman’s voice.
“Hello?” she said. “Can anyone hear me?”
My brain had to downshift to respond.
“I hear you,” I said standing on the toilet to get closer to the speaker.
“Oh thank God,” she said. “I was afraid I was in this horrible place all alone.”
“No, you’re in this horrible place with me.”
“That makes me feel better,”
“I wish it made me feel better. I’d rather be anywhere else right now.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
Something stirred inside me. What was it? Happiness? Pride?
“What’s your name?” I said.
“Hanna, what’s yours?”
“Tom.”
“Nice to meet you, Tom.”
“Nice to meet you, Hanna. I’d shake your hand but I’m a little tied up right now.”
“Really, they tied you up?”
“No, that was a joke.”
“Oh, haha.”
“Good save,” I said.
“How long have you been in here?” she said.
“This morning started day ten.”
“Oh my gosh, ten days? Is your room like mine with absolutely nothing in it?”
“Yep, just a bunk, sink, and toilet.”
“How have you not gone insane?”
I thought about the question for a moment.
“I’m sorry, that was insulting.”
“No, I was just thinking. I’m not sure how I haven’t gone bonkers.”
“I couldn’t stand to be here ten days,” she said. “I’d be dancing around in my cell naked.”
I thought about that for a moment.
“You won’t have to worry about it,” I said. “I have a plan to get out.”
“Really? What is it?”
I paused. “I don’t think I should say just in case someone is listening.”
“I understand,” she said. “I’ll let you go back to sleep but it was good talking to you.”
“It’s good talking to you too,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us out.”
“Thank you.”
I laid back down and thought about Hanna dancing naked in her cell.
“Tom?” she said.
“Yes?”
“I … I’m afraid. Will you talk to me a little more? The sound of your voice calms me down.”
I smiled. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything, I really don’t care as long as I can hear you.”
I sighed happily and started telling her about my job as a corrections officer. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep.
***
I woke determined to get out. I stood on the sink and threw the end of my blanket against the ceiling panels trying to dislodge one. Eventually, I broke two loose and threw the end of my blanket over the metal beams. One end of the blanket dangled tantalizing out of reach. The only way I could get it was to leap for it. I tried it and nearly broke my jaw as my hand missed by mere inches grabbing only air and I plummeted face-first onto the concrete floor.
The dangling end of the blanket became my obsession. I didn’t care how many times I fell. I would try until I succeeded. The only time I stopped was when the hatch opened and my meal slid inside. I stood silent atop the sink not moving a muscle. The hatch stayed open for an instant longer than usual. My breathing stopped fearing that they knew what I was up to. It only started again when the hatch slid closed and I heard the receding footsteps.
“Did you get your lunch yet?” I said.
“Yes, a ham sandwich.”
I chuckled. “You haven’t made it to the tomato soup level.”
She laughed. “Hopefully I won’t have to.”
“I’m working on that now.”
“Is that what I’ve been hearing?”
“Just the sounds of my body bouncing off the floor.”
“Oh my gosh, are you alright?”
“You can ask me that in person when I get you out. Just make sure you aren’t dancing naked when I open your cell.”
“If you get me out I’ll dance naked for you in my apartment.”
My breath caught. My knees went weak at the thought.
“Tom?” she said. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Just picturing something.”
“Hmm…,” she said. “I wonder what.”
I couldn’t answer. I focused all my energy and desperation then leaped out and snagged the end of the blanket. I pulled the end down and held on tight. I wrapped both ends of it around my wrists and pulled with all my might. The beams bowed down a little bit. I tightened my grip and jumped up and pulled down with all my weight. After a few tugs, the beams started to give. A large section of the ceiling collapsed on top of me. I ducked and covered my head to protect myself from the rain of debris. The metal beams slashed across my shoulder and back, leaving painful gashes.
“I did it, Hanna!” I yelled.
After the dust settled I sifted through the debris looking for anything useful. I stared in horror as the mute speaker lay on the floor in front of me. I looked up to see bare wires dangling well out of reach. There would be no repair.
I picked up the speaker.
“HANNA!” I screamed hoping she could somehow hear me.
But the silent speaker stared back at me. My companion, the person who gave me hope, was gone. I collapsed to the floor as hopelessness washed over me. I looked at the jagged end of one of the metal beams, then my wrist. As I plunged the metal into my flesh the door slid open and two large men dressed in white dragged me from my cell.
I kicked and screamed as we passed the door next to mine.
“Hanna!” I shrieked.
But no answer came as the men took me down the hall to another room. They strapped me onto a hospital bed and left. A doctor came in and dressed my wounds, then left without a word. I struggled against my bonds before surrendering to futility.
I took in my new environment. The room had no windows or decorations of any kind, just endless white. As I studied the ceiling my eyes settled on the speaker identical to the one in my cell.
It was silent.
A single tear ran down my cheek.
***
This completes the personal record of ‘subject 419’.
I smiled and pushed aside the script marked, ‘Hanna’ then made a note on the clipboard
‘Subject is now at fifteen-hour days. Through the timing of meals and cool air subject’s days have been shortened by one hour each day. So far, he hasn’t seemed to notice. Physical exhaustion should soon manifest.’
I glanced at the worn piece of paper taped to the clipboard. It read, ‘The problem with understanding, real understanding, is that it dries out your reservoir of faith. You lose your whole sense of… I don’t know what to call it. Meaning? Understanding cells, understanding atoms, these both proved nearly insurmountable to blind belief, but field theory; understanding that NOTHING is actually “real”, with that the world is what you make it.’
It was my mantra ever since finishing my master’s degree in human behavior. It was posted on one of the college’s bulletin boards and it had struck me so profoundly that I kept it. It formed the basis of my professional research career. Others found results in pain and torment but I found that caring, affection, even love were much better ways to manipulate subjects. I was always amazed at how far I could get subjects to go for love.
I looked back at the monitor as my subject stared longingly at the speaker, then I turned to a man in a lab coat beside me and said, “He’s ready for level two.”