Betrayed by Utopia

Light, from a small dusty window, high overhead, swirls down, attempting to banish the darkness. The room contains one bed, a toilet, and a sink; with barely any room for its occupant to move around. One of the three walls appears to be nonexistent, but appearances can be deceiving. A low energy force field takes the place of a fourth wall, meant to keep in anyone currently staying in that room. 

I lay in a small dirty bed, in that strange hazy half-asleep half-awake state. Who am I? Do I have family? Where is my family? Why can’t I remember anything? These questions circle through my mind like a carnivore closing in on its prey. Usually, my mind hides these secrets but now, in my sleepy state, a face appears. It’s not clear, but I can make out hair color. Who are you? I feel like you are important, but why? My father? No, too young. My brother? Yes, that feels right. But what is your name? Dog? Jack? Wolf? Zane? No, wait. Wolfe. That seems right. I have a brother named Wolfe. But where is he? Where are my parents? Are they still alive? Is anyone going to rescue me from this place? My mind shuts down and I fall into a deep sleep.

Fragments of a sentence, “need to go,” drifts into my awareness like wisps of fog. A scuffling sound, the distinct whisper of fabric against the floor, jolts me. My eyes snap open, I bolt upright, my gaze darting wildly around the space. Alone. “What’s going on?” I mumble, the disquieting feeling of someone having just been there prickling at my senses. The room feels quiet, too quiet, something feels off. Is the forcefield off? Is it time to eat, already?

This is one of those times where shoes would come in handy. I could throw one and test to see if the invisible forcefield that normally keeps me in is actually off. I don’t want to accidentally run into that thing again, I’m fairly certain that the last time I hit it, I was knocked unconscious for several hours, or possibly several days. But unfortunately, they don’t allow shoes here. The Ghemin have never come out and said why they don’t allow them, but us prisoners have a theory that it’s to keep us from running away. Out in the yard, you can see trees surrounding this place. So, it’s easy to imagine the ground beyond being covered in tree limbs and other objects that would slice your feet open.

I climb out of bed, the soft creak of the mattress beneath me. I knock my pillow onto the floor with a dull thud and pick it up, feeling its familiar softness. Pausing, I catch a faint scent of sweat, what I wouldn’t give to be able to wash my pillow and bed sheets. I look down at the stained and dirty pillow; I could use it to test if the forcefield really is off. I walk the few steps toward where the shimmering barrier should be. I throw it, hearing it whoosh through the air before it lands with a muffled thump a few feet away in the hall. The forcefield really is off.

A flicker of hope ignites inside me, sharp and sudden. If the barrier’s down, maybe this is my chance—my only chance—to get out. Or die trying, but I can’t worry about that right now. I step carefully to the doorway, listening for any sign of movement beyond the hallway. Silence. Too quiet, but silence is better than the usual distant murmur of Ghemin

patrols. Silence means I might stand a chance.

My heart pounds as I press my hand against the icy gray wall, listening intently for any sound. Nothing. I cast a last glance at my room, the cozy haven I’m leaving behind, the place where I feel somewhat safe, and then gaze forward into the vast unknown. The corridor stretches out, shadows pooling in the corners. I slip through the doorway, the absence of the force-field almost surreal—like stepping into a world that’s momentarily forgotten its rules.

Every footstep echoes, a steady drumbeat of urgency. I can’t afford to hesitate. Somewhere beyond these walls, freedom waits; I’m sure of it. And I’m going to find out where. Like a shadow slipping past unnoticed, I move fast and quietly, going in the opposite direction of the Chow Hall. I will not be eating the grey slop today.

Turning corners into unfamiliar halls, each left and right revealing the same monotonous scene, I notice the dull gray walls and the equally drab square tiles underfoot. The sterile, rectangular lights, spaced every five feet, cast a uniform, uninviting glow. The only visual change is the absence of empty cells that had previously lined the walls. I have no idea if I’m running in circles or if I’m slowly making my way towards the exit.

A metallic voice suddenly slices through the silence, “Where do you think you are going?”

I spin around to face a Ghemin guard, my mind a frantic blur, searching for a plausible story, but coming up empty.

“Trying to escape, are we?”

“No, I...”

“Trying to escape lands you a severe beating

and a month in isolation.” A cold, firm grip clamps down on my arm.

My mind shuts down as fear washes through me like a cold shower. A Ghemin beating? Not again. I already suffered through four, one when I first got here, and three more for trying to escape. According to the girl in the cell next to mine, each time I was beaten to the point of passing out. She said I didn’t make any sound other than the occasional groan for at least three days. It’s probably the reason I can’t remember much about my life outside of prison. I still don’t understand why I was put here or what I did to deserve this. I may not know much about myself, but I do know that I’m not a criminal. Despite the beatings, I can’t help but attempt to escape, I don’t belong here and I know it.

“There you are, Rayanna.” A familiar voice says. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

The Ghemin yanks my arm, a rough tug that makes me pivot sharply. My eyes scan the newcomer, catching the cascade of white, blonde hair that hangs around her face. Then, her emerald, green eyes, fix on us, wide and intense. Her features are pinched, her mouth turned down, giving her the constant appearance of someone on the verge of tears. It’s Carina, the girl in the cell next to mine, her presence here is sudden, her voice jarring in the quiet of the corridor. What is she doing here?

“What are you doing here? Are you trying to escape as well?”

“No, of course not. And neither was she. She was supposed to be meeting me in the Chow Hall, about twenty minutes ago. I’m assuming you got turned around again?”

An excuse for being somewhere I shouldn’t,

thank goodness. I’ll gladly look like an idiot. “Yes, I got lost again.”

“But you were running, like you were attempting to escape.” The Ghemin says, sounding unsure of himself.

“That’s because Carina gets mad if I’m late. She tends to steal my food as a payment for holding my seat.”

“And today is the day they have my favorite fluffy rolls.”

Fluffy rolls? Now that’s exaggerating a little too much. But the guard doesn’t seem to notice and let’s go of my arm. “Please don’t take my roll.”

“Oh, I am. You are ten minutes late and you know how much I hate that.”

“The next I catch you running, I will assume it’s an escape attempt and you will be punished.” The guard says. “Now get out of here. The Chow Hall is behind you and to your right.”

“I promise I won’t run again, no matter how late I am.” I call out as Carina and I walk away as fast as we can without running. “Thank you.” I whisper to her.

“What were you doing? Trying to escape?”

“Yes. I can’t stand it here any longer. It’s eat, stand around a few minutes in the yard before being shoved back into my tiny cell to either sleep or just sit there and stare at an empty wall for hours on end.”

“I get it, I feel like I’m going crazy in here. But I also have no intention of getting beat within an inch of my life. I saw what happened to you, each time you’ve tried. What’s it been four times, now?”

“Three.”

“Three times. That’s more escapes than you

should have attempted. Each time they bring you back, your body is limp and hanging in a guard’s arms when they carry you past my cell. Each time I think you are dead when they drop you in your cell.”

“Why would they drop a dead body in a cell?”

“I don’t know, to make me lose my mind? A dead body decomposing in the cell next to mine would slowly drive anyone mad.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say, stepping into the crowded Chow Hall. The air buzzes with chatter and clinking trays, mingling with the aroma of sizzling food. Heat from the bustling room brushes against my skin as I navigate through the sea of people. It’s always so hot in here, either from the massive amount of people in here at one time or because they purposely jack up the heat in here. Either way, I can feel the sweat beading up on my back and starting to run like miniature rivers.

We walk through the line and pick up our trays before sitting down at a table. I look down at my tray, lumps of food as gray as the walls slopped onto my plate, with one roll that could probably hammer nails into walls. “Can I interest you in a fluffy roll?” I ask Carina. “Since I was late and they are your favorite.” She sticks her tongue out at me in response, and we both begin to laugh. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Actually, that’s a ‘no way.’ I nearly chipped a tooth last time I tried to eat one, but that guard didn’t need to know that.” A shared, muffled chuckle escapes us, earning sharp glares from the surrounding guards. Any laughter here constitutes a minor infraction, and the guards impose a single day of solitary confinement. We quickly suppress our grins, forcing frowns onto our faces. This grim place is challenging enough, and the thought of being alone, even for a single day, makes it harder.

A booming, amplified voice cuts through the air, “Attention, prisoners! Acid rain today. All outside movement is prohibited. Return to your cells. You have ten minutes.”

My heart sinks, a cold, heavy stone in my chest, as we stand to our feet. My shoulders slump, and I can feel the familiar ache in my jaw from clenching my teeth. Carina’s hand brushes mine as we deposit our trays onto the tray return line, a fleeting contact that does little to warm the chill that has settled deep within me. “It will be okay,” she says.

The sterile scent of the Chow Hall seems to amplify the hollowness in my stomach, a dull, persistent gnawing. Even the air feels heavy, pressing down on my lungs with each shallow breath, making it harder to imagine anything beyond this oppressive routine. We begin the short walk back to our cells. “No. No, it will not. We need someone to rescue us. A hero.” But rescue seems to be impossible and heroes aren’t real. I step into my cell and within seconds, I hear the familiar, yet faint buzzing of the force field as it turns back on.