My limbs feel numb, I can barely lift a finger. Blinking takes up more energy than it ever should've. A stifling fatigue forces me to lie defenselessly on the cold operation table. Bright light shines into my face, it blocks out the rest of my vision. All I see is a blank void, erasing whatever is going on in the room around me. I can vaguely hear indistinct voices in the back of my head, they can't decide what to do with me. Should I be electro-shocked? Perhaps a brain surgery would help? Maybe the removal of my eyes would prevent me from finding my goal? Or shouldn't an induced state of paralysis serve as the best possible solution?
I know my brother has been on this table before. He's told me about it. The Ghosts will observe you in these little rooms, struggling to decide what to do with you next, now that you've fallen out of line. Their inner conflicts are strong. We are valuable goods to them, after all, they can't just dispose of us, no matter how much we struggle to behave. They need us, or at least our bodies. I don't know what for, but I know that losing even as much as one of us would cost them far more than any of us could imagine. That's how my brother made it out of here alive – barely, that is.
His many escape attempts were punished by several mutilations – until he was put in a state of permanent sedation. Now, his bodily functions barely work and his mind is elsewhere. It's like someone sucked the soul out of him. There is not a thought behind his eyes, his expression is always blank. He has been turned into a mindless marionette who's only purpose is to breathe. Physically, his heart is still beating, his limbs can still move – but my protective brother who would fight for his goals with bravery and determination, the one who would smile brightly at the idea of freedom, is long gone. The Ghosts had made sure of it.
Now it is my turn to turn into a mindless puppet. I doubt that the Ghosts will hold back so graciously with me as they did with my brother. They gave him five chances before they crushed his soul. Being his successor, I doubt I will get as much as one.
The distant voices keep blabbering on as I strangely feel my strength return. Breathing becomes easier, my eyes finally manage to stay open. Slowly I'm regaining consciousness, becoming increasingly aware of the threatening situation I'm in. I try to wiggle my aching wrists out of the shackles that bind me to the table. They won't budge. Panic rises within me. I need to get out of here – I have to, I don't want to end up like him! Please, get me out!
‘Hey! Watch the sedation dose!' a shrieking Ghost shouts out. ‘It's waking up!'
Suddenly, a plastic tube is pierced into my neck. I squeal at the burning pain. A weird gush of coldness flows into my body, engulfing me. My limbs start shivering uncontrollably, increasing in frequency, until their violent trembling almost frees me of my chains.
‘Don’t overdo the dose, you idiot!' the Ghost screams again. ‘If you kill it, we won't be able to comply with next week's order!'
© Nine 2022-04-20