Playing In The Rain | Next Chapter

Apr 3

Apr 3 Playing In The Rain

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Science Fiction

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Book excerpt

Prologue

I tilted my head back to look at the cloud-filled sky. Large, grey puffs danced and swirled overhead.

A drop of water landed on my nose. I brought my head forward and wiped up the bead with my finger before it had a chance to spill down my face.

I stared at the liquid; a smile pulled at the corners of my lips, stretching them until my eyes crinkled. Another droplet landed on the top of my head, cool and wet. It trickled down the part in my hair, leaving behind a trail of tingling skin. I reached up with my other hand and scratched it away.

Laughing voices caught my attention and for a moment pulled me away from the dripping sky.

The sound of a whisper filled my ears and interrupted my dream. My eyelids fluttered open. The streetlight outside lit my room and shadows danced across my ceiling. My heart skipped as they moved closer.

I turned my head and opened my mouth. Before any sound could escape a hand clamped it shut and my eyes filled with darkness. I struggled against the weight on my arms as my legs tried to kick free from under the blankets. A harsh ripping sound halted my efforts. For a second my mouth was freed; I called out, but my cries were muffled by a large piece of tape. My arm jerked as a sharp point pierced the skin of my shoulder.

My muscles eased and relaxed and my movements slowed. The pressure on my arms abated. I willed them to move and strike out at the nearest object, but they lay still at my sides. The skin on my cheeks and lips stretched upward as the tape used to seal my mouth came free.

I yelled, but the sound I heard came from inside my own head, my voice had been silenced. The blindfold was tugged away; the dim light returned.

Black shadows loomed in front of me, devoid of form or shape – blurred, dark blobs moved in the night. My eyelids slammed shut.

“Move them out!” A voice bellowed. And then there was nothing.

One

Sterile

I woke to the bright and unpleasant buzz of the overhead lights. The sterile, white room glowed with such intensity it was almost blinding.

It happened every morning, first the click, then the hum. My eyelids flew open as though a power button inside my head was flicked to the ‘on’ position. My arm rose to cover my face and shield me from the bright lights. It had been that way for as long as I remembered which seemed both a long time and only a few days.

I rolled over onto my right side, and my eyes darted between three sliding doors on the wall parallel to my bed. The first, located directly across from my resting head, was the entry. The door I passed through twice a day, once when I left the room and then again when I came back.

My gaze skimmed a little further to the left. In the middle of the wall was the much smaller opening of the dumbwaiter. I favoured that door as each whoosh signaled a meal or snack.

I tucked my chin a little and looked over toward the third opening at the far end of the wall. My focus drifted toward the white surveillance camera with its ever-watchful red eye. For the moment, it pointed directly at my bed, silent and still. Yet, once I rose it would awaken and begin its daily routine of stalking me around my room. I resisted the urge to wave and returned my attention to the laundry chute. It wasn’t as big as the entry but certainly larger than the dumbwaiter. Large enough, in fact, I believed it could hold two small or even average sized people. Who would try? The thought made my skin prickle.

All three doors remained closed and silent, but soon the daily procedures would begin. The sound of sliding doors would replace the irritating hum of the overhead lights.

I flung back my pale sheet, my eyes skimmed over my green nightgown, and I sat up. The whirring of the camera drowned out the buzzing lights, and it caught my attention. It was only in those first few minutes of the day that the sounds of the room were grating. Soon the noises would disappear into the background. Only recalled at night when they finally quieted.

A thought suddenly came to mind and erased my irritation. I was getting a surprise today.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rested my feet on the white tile floor. Soothing warmth radiated through my body and tempted me to lie down on the hard surface.

The first whoosh of the day interrupted my thoughts. The door of the dumbwaiter had opened; my breakfast had arrived. Small gurgles deep inside my stomach rolled through my gut. It finally concluded with a loud, inhuman grumble as the smell of bacon wafted through the room.

I rushed toward the small compartment behind my table and pulled out the covered tray. I breathed in the delicious smell. My free hand curled into a tight fist at my side as a distant and unclear memory flashed in front of me. I placed the tray on the table, exhaled, and uncurled my hand. Morning procedures had to be followed.

I hurried toward the fourth door in my room which led to the washroom. It was unlike the others and made no sound when pulled open. It sat centred on the end wall closest to the head of my bed. The only thing that gave the door away was the small, clear glass knob that stuck out from the bleached wall.

The light turned on the instant I pushed open the door. The small bathroom was as clean and white as the rest of my room. I stepped further in and jumped when the door clicked closed behind me.

I sat down on the toilet seat and emptied my bladder. The sound echoed in the small room, and I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone heard. Hurry up! I told myself. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my thighs and held my head in my hands.

The toilet flushed on its own. The water drained with such force that tiny drops sprayed up onto the seat. I didn’t bother to wipe it away; the room would clean itself.

The soap dispenser whined and spat out a foamy liquid that was as free of colour and scent as everything else. I moved my hands under the tap and activated the warm water. Tiny bubbles squeezed out between my fingers and covered the backs of my hands. The white froth swirled around before it gurgled down the drain. The distant whisper of some strange tune peeked out from the shadows in my mind. My eyes squeezed shut, and I worked at remembering the lyrics. As a word was about to form, the water turned off signaling the end of my hand washing.

My eyelids fluttered open, and my heart skipped as I caught my reflection in the mirror. I stared at myself for a second. My straight, light brown hair rested on the top of my shoulders, freshly cut from the day before. The light blinked in warning, a reminder my time in the bathroom was over. I would have to examine myself closer the next time.

I pushed the button on the wall and pulled the door open. The alarm buzzed; the five-second countdown had begun. I stepped over the threshold, and the door closed behind me. An audible hissing sound came to my ears as scalding hot steam filled the small room. The hissing stirred a distant voice; it whispered from somewhere deep inside my head. Garbled and incomprehensible words bounced and echoed in my skull. Sick was all I understood.

Intrusive beeping pulled me away from the door and my thoughts as I headed back over to my table. I only had three minutes left to finish my breakfast.

The smell of bacon saturated the air around me the second I removed the lid from my tray. Three pieces of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and home fries covered the plastic plate. My tongue swept across my lips, and I stared at the colourful arrangement of food in front of me. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to revel in its taste, but that didn’t concern me. The meal would repeat itself in so many days.

With breakfast over, I sealed the dishes back inside the dumbwaiter. The whining camera pricked my ears as it followed me across the room.

My plain white dresser sat in the corner, wedged between the end wall and the head of my bed. I pulled open the top drawer and removed a white paper robe wrapped in plastic and placed it on top. I stripped the sheets from my bed, scooped them up in my arms, and retrieved the neatly packaged robe.

I glanced up at the surveillance system as I crossed the room on a diagonal towards it and the laundry chute. The only good thing was I would soon disappear from its view. The camera was unable to see me in the corner when I stood underneath it.

I pressed a button, and the door to the laundry chute slid open. I piled the sheets inside, the plastic package dangled from my teeth, and I pulled my nightgown over my head. My hair stood on end; static electricity crackled. I removed my underwear and tossed all my nightclothes onto the pile. I tore open the plastic package and pulled on the paper robe. Before I closed the door, I threw the packaging in with the laundry.

My feet took me the few steps along the wall and over toward my table where I sat down and waited. I stared at the dimmed red light above the entrance. Within seconds of sitting down, the light glowed, and the door slid open.

He stepped through the entrance covered from top to bottom in white as he pushed his cart into the room in front of him. The only part of him that showed was his brown eyes peeking out from the holes in the hooded mask. Over the mask he wore goggles. I called him he, but I wasn’t sure. The baggy suit gave no sign of curves or bumps of any kind.

My paper robe crinkled as I brought my right arm forward and rested it on the table. I bent my left arm and placed it in front of me. He pushed his little cart against the table and stood on the other side. My attention focused on his white-gloved hands as he prepared two injections.

Another syringe, already prepared, sat on the cart. I recalled seeing it before but was unsure of its use. I narrowed my gaze as I stared at the mystery needle. A memory flashed of a gloved hand picking up the syringe, followed by a stinging prick, and then darkness. I shuddered and small bumps rose on my arms. I had received that injection. It was the consequence should you find the strength to resist.

One of his rubber gloved hands held my arm as the other wiped a small gauze pad against my shoulder. The cold dampness caused more bumps to rise. My nose wrinkled at the strong smell. His rubbery fingers compressed the skin on my shoulder. The silver point of the needle pierced my flesh. He pushed down on the plunger. I concentrated on feeling the clear liquid as it entered my body, but it was not possible. When he finished, he pulled it free and placed the gauze pad back on my arm. He repeated the process with the second needle. Once again, I focused on the liquid and much like the first time, I felt nothing. When he pulled the needle out, he dabbed at the small point of red blood that had bubbled to the surface.

“Any idea what my surprise is?” I whispered. My voice sounded foreign to my ears. Why?

He stopped dabbing for a split second as though my speaking had caught him off guard, and then he resumed his work. He placed a small bandage on my shoulder, cleaned up his tray, and hurried from the room. The sliding doors closed behind him.

“I didn’t think so,” I whispered to the sterile room.

The overhead light flashed its warning. I groaned. “I know,” I said between clenched teeth as I stood up and shoved my chair back. Its felt-covered feet slid over the floor. I moved toward the washroom; my paper robe rustled with every step. The back of my head burned with the sensation of watching eyes.

I wadded the paper robe into a ball and placed it inside the plastic tube that hung between the sink and the toilet. Within seconds it disappeared, sucked out of sight with a loud pop.

The small shower stall stood in the corner opposite the toilet. The glass door slid open as I stepped toward it. Once inside, warm water gushed out, and I closed my eyes, revelling in the relaxing spray. I only had a minute or two to enjoy it as the soothing warmth would end soon.

I washed my hair with creamy, unscented liquid, squeezed out from the dispenser on the wall. Below that was the dispenser for the body wash. Yet, another colourless and odourless gel that oozed into my hand.

The bathroom light flashed, warning me my shower would be over in seconds. I stepped toward the door and when it opened the water turned off. The mat's rubber bristles tickled my feet as I stepped down on them. Warm air shot out from the wall behind me, from the ceiling, and from the mat on the floor.

I turned a slow circle; rivulets of water ran down my body and evaporated. I combed my fingers through my hair and worked out some of the tangles that had formed while washing. I bent over; the warm air blew my hair around in wild fashion. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and stared at my feet instead. Soon the light would flicker and my time in the blowers would be over.

I pulled open the medicine cabinet. Inside were many plastic wrapped toothbrushes and one-use packets of toothpaste. I selected one of each and closed the door. The toothbrush was like everything else in the room – white and temporary. I ripped it from its cocoon of clear plastic and covered it with every bit of paste from the packet. The bristles massaged over my gums and teeth, removing all traces of food and bacteria. When finished, I held everything up to the tube and watched as it was sucked out of existence.

I stared into the mirror and combed out my hair with my fingers. I leaned close, almost touching it with my nose, and looked into my blue eyes.

“Who are you?” I whispered.