The Factory

My pen touches the pad as I strain against the fading memories to record such misfortune before it takes me further like it did her. No, I must not think of her, archiving these events are more important than my own sanity; subconsciously I place my hand on the heart-shaped locket around my neck. By tonight, there is no doubt I will be one of the empty. Once these accounts are finished, I am sure to consider my own path to the next world than the one laid before me. Internally hoping and praying that those who find these accounts are able to decipher my hastily scratched words.

February 31st 21st

I found myself in an eminently barren part of the city, the Keepers had done their jobs masterfully, normally this would not be a frequented place of mine but answers were needed, all in all, there was nothing left to lose for me, the war was near its end for us, and the oppressors winning. I myself was never considered a prize, though I was dressed fairly well this evening; I needed their attention after all, and swift was their response. Why wouldn’t it be, with the wealth being flaunted, and throughout the time I spent in their care I was treated fairly and any consideration I requested was given to me as their prisoner. As confusing as it was that they did not just put an end to me as the rumors of them said, it was as comfortable in their care for the two days that they held me that I was able to slip away during one of their guard shifts. There were no answers here for me, surely answers could be found elsewhere.

Eventually, I found myself free of their pursuit, little good it did me as I have limited knowledge of this area. I had never been skilled with directions and the only meager indicators were the street signs so heavily vandalized that only a few letters at a time could be read. Best I could guess, the main road was nearby as the arrow suggested, though I saw nothing nor were there any more drivers to be heard. My hunger and fatigue grew as the clock ticked on from hours to days while I wandered hopelessly beneath the angry sunlight. Mentally I had hoped for another passerby soul, perhaps even to wander into fellow resistance members; hell, I’d even be glad to see the Keepers once more. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been lucky in either case and the despondency of my situation was taking its toll.

Assuming I had passed out, the winds of change took me, the full details of which I will never be sure. For next that I remember, I had been somewhere fixed and unwilling to let me move, the cold surroundings were the blackest of black I’d ever experience and I felt as if I were quite literally melting away on the hard slab I rested upon. This was my first and fully unwelcome sensation, but it quickly faded and when I opened my eyes again, the room was dimly lit and my arms free to rub my aching eyes. While the lighting had been favorable this time, the air had not changed and still filled my senses with a putrid odor from what I assumed emanates from the rotting mud beside me. I think it best to describe no more of this room as it is not pertinent for the archive and I do not savor these memories.

There was a deafening silence that penetrated me absolutely and surprisingly the door was unlocked. Yet alas the outside was just another vast room similar to one holding me now. I am tearfully afraid but I must push on for her, for me and the answers that my mind demanded I find, I gripped her locket to resolve my strength and forced my legs to move.

Entering this room was when my host played out their first cruel experiment, in the middle of the otherwise empty room was a table and a second awful smelling mud pile beneath it. “Drink to live” was written on a card underneath a vial of what looked like ink. Reflecting on the conditions of the aimless road I wandered, I thought to live, play the game or not, this must be my best chance. Great was the displeasure of its taste, it must really have been ink mixed with other undesirables, nevertheless as the liquid oozed down my stomach it dawned on me that I was no longer hungry nor near exhaustion.

Several seconds passed and I felt no more ill than when I had woken, brooding here near this table I heard a loud click. This sound breaking the silence was followed by the door I missed during my first inspection, opening now that the lock was removed. Of course, my choice was to go through and search for the way out; like a rat in a maze being watched by the malicious scientists overhead, though I saw no one hanging from the rafters of the ceiling.

The ground seemed to stick to my shoes once I passed through the door and it seemed unlikely to change, this room was darker almost as if it were night however one of the painted-over windows was hastily done and light bled through, revealing little but I could smell it again, that mud pile somewhere in the room. Here in this third room where I wandered, I found the table in the near as I could tell, the center of the room and this damn smell was driving me mad, rotting fish mixed with bodily fluids I started to place mental bets on what it was to help keep myself calm of such a slight inconvenience, I had greater things to accomplish than the smell winning over me. This table provided food, “Eat me” was written on this note beneath the plate of what I hypothesized as mashed hard-boiled eggs, or at least, so I hoped. Scarfing this provided material down I nearly gagged at the flavor of rotten eggs, wishing I had been wrong. The second click and the door opened for the fourth room. My mind raced and I could swear there was carnival music coming from within my next destination, but for the first time here, I considered if the answers were worth the price. Her locket once again gave me the fortitude I needed and onwards I went.

Assuredly still awake, the air started to sweeten and my energy seemed to grow, even if I was tired a moment ago there is no chance I could have slept with the power coursing through me now. To my own dismay, however, this was not the end of the effects of the food; visions, I was now seeing things as a veiled dancing lady urged me towards the door with the music. Almost trance-like I obeyed, she led me past the door, and in this dimly lit room sat a table, yet in my daze, nothing could pull my attention from the succubus before me and we danced to the wordless music. Disappointingly she did eventually vanish along with the music, leaving me before the table, leaning upon it, and to my horror, a needle calling my left arm home. The note here was just as short as the others “Leave me” with a slot for the syringe that now housed my blood.

I ripped the tool from my arm and in a fierce grip, I raised my arm, determined to throw it, denying my hosts what they stole from me. Fire in my heart but reason, of a sort, in my mind, stayed my action. “If I throw this, I may not escape to find my daughter.” Again, I toughened myself with the feel of the locket within my free hand and I placed the blood into the designated slot.

Click and the final door opened.

Now, earlier at the beginning of my writings, I described the eerie and emptiness of the forsaken civilization we all, unfortunately, know too well, beyond this final door, however, would make such a place seem desirable. Through this door was the conclusion of my journey and the unfortunate revealings of the answers I so longed for, though I did not know it at the time. Behind me stood the factory rooms I moved through, tests enacted upon me nonconsensually, and yet, I wish I could go back. Past the door was the cold and brisk air of late evening as the sun had begun to set over a vast field of people. The forsaken civilization of depression was my new happy place over the soulless evil that was standing before me.

Countless people in the field below and I felt myself on the edge of a fathomless void of eternal dread. My body moved on its own towards the crowd and their faces were familiar in ways I couldn’t remember. The gated entrance posted one final note, “Thank you for contributing to our research.” My eyes read the words and it wasn’t until I started writing these events that I was able to recall what they said. Still, my body moved against my will into the crowd and I could feel something inside being lost, drained into a numbness where all I wished for was to stand amongst these people. Yet, this terror was broken and I was no longer spellbound because of her, once again my daughter saved me. A tear rolled its way down my face as my love had been lost, yes she had saved me, but it was not due to the locket this time as I saw her standing before me; mindless and a lost soul like the rest. She breathed but saw nothing in front of her and she had no recognition of my face.

With my brief clarity, I shook my sadness away and vowed to give an accurate record of this place to the world. Turning, I ran, pushing my legs and body anywhere but here until my lungs burned. The moon climbed its way through the sky, higher and higher until I was lucky enough to find a familiar place, somewhere I had been a few times back before the world fell apart. Urged on by my penetrating determination I found myself back in my barren and lifeless city, crying out for help, sending my voice as far as I could until my throat died.

It is here the events of my memory end, now home I have caught up to the current happenings of the events and I have no more information to give, save for the adrenaline fading and the mindlessness of earlier that is fighting back into my soul. I feel it deep that I am losing, soon I will be lost and taken prisoner like my precious daughter. I hope that someone, anyone may have seen me running or heard my cries.

My name is Albert Biigs, and my daughter is Cathrine, remember us.

The end is near, and I hear noises from outside as I set the pen down, with my shaking hand I reach for the gun hidden within my desk. Raising it up, I close my freehand around her locket and I try to find my own way out of this torment but I am too late, the numbing emptiness wins and my hand falls to my side, still clutching the gun, unfired.