This is the first of a series of short stories I am writing this December.
Click here to read the explanation of why I’m writing them.
Ben slouched as he waited; staring directly at the food slot. Food always came at the same times, morning, midday, and evening, everyday; so he knew when to wait. He knew they would punish him for slouching; it was one of their rules. It was a simple set of rules that he increasingly loathed following; the list etched into the back wall of his cell:
- Stay clear of the bars
- Do not destroy your room
- Use the toilet provided
- Eat and finish all meals everyday
- Read all the books provided
- No slouching
The more he thought about that last one the more he wondered if there wasn’t some personal vendetta that a guard had against him. It was out of place, and normally those running the prison in which he stood, hated things that were out of place.
Feeding time, as Ben had come to call it, was the only interesting part of his day. With only himself for company time was irrelevant but the books they provided him kept him sane. The 2 hours he spent in the ‘recreation center’ each day meant that he was in the best shape of his life; if this could be called living.
Ben knew he had been here for about month, but had not seen another living creature in that time. When he was directed out into the ‘recreation center’ everyday before lunch — he had learnt ignoring this direction meant he was docked meals until he cooperated — he would return to a cleaned cell. Someone made his bed, removed old food trays, wiped every surface, leaving only his current book — where he kept a rough count of his days in the prison — untouched.
Someone was running this prison, but he did not know who.
When Ben had first woken up in his cell he had screamed from the top of his lungs. Proclaiming innocence, demanding that whoever was running this prison to show themselves, but no one appeared. The only answer that came was another meal arriving on schedule. The explanation of why he was here never came.
Until it did.
Ben woke to an unexpected sound. Looking over to the bars he saw what he could only describe as a monster standing on the other side.
It had the outline of a man, two arms, two legs, a head, and it was standing upright. If it was a man, Ben surmised it must have been born in a swamp; a thick gel covered it’s body The gel constantly flowed downwards, like waves in a thick custard. It gave the impression it would leave a trail of the gel everywhere it went, yet somehow the constantly oozing surface never fell to the floor; the ground around the being spotless.
“b-en” it said.
The single syllable word being forced unnaturally from it’s voice box was enough to snap Ben from his shock.
He threw himself against the back wall of the cell to put as much space between him and the creature as possible.
“b-en” it stuttered once more.
“Yes” was all Ben managed to say.
The creature paused, Ben wondered if maybe it was waiting for him to ask questions, until it continued.
“we have made sure that you have had all of your requirem-ents in abund-ance” it enunciated slowly, each syllable coming out unpolished and graceless.
“food.
water.
shelter.
physi-cal and mental stimul-ation.”
“Who are you? Why am I here?” Ben blurted out, his brain finally catching up to the situation at hand.
“you are in peak condi-tion” it stated.
“What?” Ben queried, “No I’m not in peak condition. I’m pretty far from OK for god’s sake!”.
He was unable to contain his emotions and he found himself shouting.
“Tell me why I’m here!”
If the creature was annoyed by his aggression it did not show it.
“you are ready for the next phase” the creature responded.
It turned and began to walk away; Ben could not tell if its legs moved or the slime was propelling it.
“Wait!” Ben protested, “What do you mean next phase? Why am I here? Where is here? Who are you?”
The creature turned its head slowly towards him.
Stumbling over each word it responded.
“you are ready for sale.”
