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The Facility: Chapter 6.
The growing wind whipped at my back, savage whip cracks lashing around me, goading the foolishness of my decision. But stupidity and rashness is only a problem for those who have something, who can hold an object and not have it slither away through their fingers. Hissing and fizzing at my back, wind made little impression on my already assaulted psyche, the monstrosity in front of me had taken a bat to the last remnants of dignity and pulverised it to near oblivion. All that was left of me standing here was a feral hologram, a cheap knockoff of me, the like of which was spewed out in sweat shops by drones unable to have another life for themselves... absorbed by shit pits like this, obviously, I thought. Rationality wouldn't serve me where I was going, only the last animal thing we humans held onto would... seek, and destroy.
The Facility was acting coy now someone was demanding something from it. Sat there, a lame duck of governmental procedure, when it was the rabid wolf. The wind seemed to peter out around it and disintegrate a blind assault with no purpose, every impulse had that very same reaction to the formless oblong of concrete. Citizen's Advice was obliterated in a wine press, the heady of juice of control, red tape was a fine vintage for the capitalist overlords and the wind moaned with the detached freedom of it's "clients." The grey sky and cold was The Facility's attempt to subvert nature. But life found a way... and I am that way.
My hand gingerly touched the moribund stone, concrete. A substance thrown into mix with another's design, integrity compromised to tow the line in of itself. A dozing static slumbered in it's cold hardness as my responsive hand reacted to it's state induced numbness. A contained hum radiated across the stone and throbbed as though on another plane of existence, eyes slid over the identical expanse, constantly, until they forced out of themselves, burning furiously. Stalks of my gaze frayed over the blank void, which began to writhe with mites, a colony of insects forced into life by the audacity of prying eyes. Flooding my sight, the frenzied motion plunged deeper, there were dimensions to this stone I could not fathom, shrunk away from, yet the fuzzy itching behind my eyes was an opposing force attracting the motion in this magnetism. Everything fell away, all sense of reality of being anything other than this moment, my hand against responsive concrete, that wanted to annihilate me, but viciousness was tamed by bureaucracy's nullifying hand. Wind calcified, cold evaporated as attention to it drilled into the minute specks' frenetic dancing. The world was only consisting of that formless, vacuum lump of uncaring grey slabs, a swarm of nihilistic maggots devoured the very liberty of the planet it was built on... I couldn't escape even if I wanted to now...
... I awoke, that's all I can call it, a rebirth... where normality streamlined down avenues of order. Row after row of blank steel benches greeted me. A rubber conveyer belt punctured the middle of the frozen steel, staid, motionless, yet embodied with a cruelty in the dim light of the large square room. About a dozen production lines littered the space, all dormant and slumbering with callous grace. I glared round the room, trying to be divested of all feeling, yet something lurked in the emptiness, an implied savagery, each line ostensibly a serrated tooth waiting to sink into me. I flinched back, newly weak. I had gone to fluid, muscles water and my skin the balloon. Why did I come here? Something clawed at the back of my throat, but I had come this far. I remembered what this place had robbed from me, the rat who apparently nothing was too much for, it robbed me of existence! That water was truly inflammable petrol and now burst into an inferno of injustice.
I was running. Past streaks of the production lines, wondering what they made here, what purpose has been concocted to give our lives meaning? I wondered. Footsteps echoing off the walls as hollow laughter. The door loomed over me all of a sudden, bathed in cold light, a sanctuary, absorbing the din of my skidding feet that punctured the domain of silence. I floated to it, possessed with the ghosts of those the Facility had sucked up greedily...
... Knees buckled on the other side. Mind spun at the sight of cages, cages everywhere! Saccharine light drowning out the humanity of the lab mice locked within. People I once knew, cooped up like rodents, awaiting their turn on the treadmill tomorrow. Despite each looking as though they were asleep, the void in their dozing forms suggested a deserted space where their freedom once resided. On my knees, that fire began to turn into a solid, cooling igneous lump, lodged inside, displacing organs, a swelling sickness. My head throbbed and spun achingly, this place had won!
© Brad James, 2014.