A Broken Thing

A white room.

A small white cubic space.

Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. All perfectly smooth without any bumps, scratches, or other blemishes marring their perfect surfaces in any way.

Perfectly symmetrically sized in four feet in all directions.

There was no hunger, no thirst.

Devoid of anything. No bed, no toilet, no window, no door, not a single minute thing.

There was no night and no day, without light lit by a power source, the room somehow maintained the same level of brightness at a constant.

The naked occupant of this single room knew exactly how perfect it was. They had spent an enormous amount of time pouring over every little, excruciating detail that it held completely.

That's why they knew it was faultless.

They felt, heard, saw, touched, and tasted nothing.

There were no dreams, no nightmares, nor memories.

And so, there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Noth-

---------

-------------------

---------------------------------

-----------------------------------------------

The brightness of the room dimmed, into a more subdued white than it had been for who knew how long.

The person, curled up as they were in a corner of the room, made no movements whatsoever in response to the subtle change in its environment.

It paid no attention. The numbness, the hollowness the person felt failed to leave them.

Why would it?

In the beginning, their mind had created grandiose delusions that made this subtle change look like a joke. This was just another one of those moments where the mind created its changes to its otherwise perfect world, seeking some, if any, sort of stimulation.

It would fade shortly and once again, the room would be the perfect cell.

But the illusion did not end there.

A door appeared opposite the person, burning itself into the wall and opening, allowing another person to enter their otherwise empty world.

This person they had not seen since... When?

This person, they had forgotten who they were anyway. It was pointless to cling to something they could not remember when the false reality they were seeing would disappear at any moment.

The intruder's mouth moved, but no words could be heard spoken. Of course not, they had lost their sense of hearing.

The intruder's face drew taught, apparently angry at having been ignored. They approached the person and with the pointed heel of their shoe, drove it into a hand belonging to the prisoner.

Once more their mouth moved, but alas, nothing was heard.

The prisoner did not so much as flinch, much less flicker an eye in registering the action.

Why would they? They could no longer feel anything.

Without any reaction whatsoever, the intruder began waving their arms around in exaggerated movements, bending down and smashing a balled fist into the face of the trapped one.

Not that it did much of anything. The punch didn't even cause their body to jolt from the impact. The invisible barrier that had prevented self-harm against themself, acted in the same manner and defended it from the attack.

The intruder stood, flicking the ponytail of their long black hair back over their shoulder. Glaring down at the prisoner, they suddenly slapped their forehead, the realization of why they weren't getting a reaction having dawned on them.

Through their vacant eyes, having lost the light of life long ago, the prisoner observed the intruder speak to the ceiling.

The delusion was continuing for far longer than usual, that was strange.

But still, it did not register nor react to it.

"... Deactivating sensory deprivation program... Deactivation is successful. The functionality of the program has been removed. Complete sensory statuses of the subject have been returned and are operating within normal parameters."

A computer-like emotionless voice filled the room, concisely and clearly.

"Ugh, much better. Now I might be able to get somewhere."

The woman muttered to herself, turning back to the prisoner who still lay immobile.

"Prisoner G211806233, don't make me waste my time coming here and speaking with you. Snap out of your pathetic state and pay attention. I have something that might interest you."

"..."

Who was this woman? Why can I suddenly hear things? The prisoner thought to themself.

Their fingers twitched against the floor, pressing down upon the smooth, cool surface. For the first time that they could recall, they could feel the contact between them. Their confinement was neither cold nor warm, so they never suffered from any kind of thermal fluctuations.

That's why the difference in temperature between body and cell was such a strange sensation.

Never before had this happened during many of the delusions that plagued their otherwise perfect world?

"Seriously, you're starting to piss me off prisoner G211806233. If I wanted to watch your disgusting, worthless self wallow in misery, then I would have stayed outside and watched from the real world."

"..."

The woman stood above him and pushed his face upwards to her with the point of her shoe. Now they were looking at each other eye to eye. Her position of power once again demonstrated by their orientation between each other.

This is... The prisoner thought once again.

Recognition, fleeting at first but growing ever stronger with each passing moment began to dawn on the prisoner.

He had been in a similar position as this with the same woman before.

Katherine.

Yes, that was her name.

Doctor Katherine Vella. An employee of Paragon Industries and Head Director of Excelsior... the prison that the entrapped and caged prisoner was currently secured within.

That's right... I'm a prisoner, locked away in a virtual world while my body is in the real world... Who am I again? The prisoner thought.

"This is getting us nowhere. I can see that I wasted my time coming here. Enjoy the continuation of your incarceration, prisoner G211806233. Maybe another time, I'll visit once more when you may be far more willing to engage with me."

"..."

She dropped her foot away from the prisoner, allowing his head to fall sideways back onto the cool floor.

My name is... The prisoner thought, desperate to recall their own identity which had long ago abandoned them.

Scrounging, digging, scratching, tearing, grasping, tossing, desperately they dug through the recesses of their mind seeking an answer.

I am...

Cole.

Cole Guildford.

Finally, Cole recalled who he was. Though many other things still eluded his fragmented and damaged mind, he managed to scrape that much together.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

So, he screamed, realizing the situation he was in and having for the first time in an unknown amount of time, being able to feel anything.

"Ugh! Cut it out!"

Doctor Katherine clapped her hands over her ears, caught by surprise by the screeching tone that threatened to tear her eardrums apart.

"Detecting heightened levels of hysteria among the subject. Advising that the subject, recorded as prisoner G211806233, has suffered severe psychological trauma and is currently experiencing a psychotic episode. System recommends immediate treatment and rectification be conducted immediately."

The computer-like voice spoke up, providing an answer for Cole's screaming.

"Yeah, no sh*t! I didn't need a f*cking computer program to tell me that!"

Doctor Katherine swore at the ceiling, trying to shut out the sound of Cole's continued screaming.

Although, she shouldn't have been surprised. In truth, she wasn't, that the situation had devolved into its current predicament. It was to be expected really.

There had been many, if not nearly all, of the prisoners held in similar virtual cells that had broken the same way. Being isolated in such a way, it was only natural that the mind could not handle the immense stress.

Human beings are social creatures after all. Being held against their will and isolated does incredible damage to their mental capacity. Breakdown of the relevant psychological framework structure was inevitable.

"Alright, withdraw prisoner G211806233 from the containment protocol and place him within the appropriate treatment program. Do whatever it takes to bring him back to normal as soon as possible."

"System advises that proper therapy and treatment for prisoner G211806233's mental condition will take some time. Extreme levels of heightened stress and damage to their psychological self are currently detected, along with a variety of mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder, depression, and self-harm tendencies to name a few. System advises that time until completion of treatment is... Calculating... Approximately six months, give or take some depending on the progress of the patient."

"F*ck!"

Doctor Katherine slammed a fist into a wall. She did not have the luxury of waiting for such a significant period. Cole's assistance was required immediately.

"Override, by authorization of Doctor Katherine Vella. By any means, I want this broken thing repaired immediately!"

"System override by administrator-level authority accepted. Please vacate this virtual space, which will now be transformed into the appropriate clinical facility to perform adequate medical treatment. System advises that a message will be sent to Doctor Katherine Vella once the patient is treated to a satisfactory standard... ALERT... The patient may still suffer from instances of psychotic episodes after the invasive, accelerated treatment. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, yes, yes, completely acceptable! Begin the program at once."

"Command acknowledged. System will now begin treatment."

As the white-washed, perfect cubic room began to pixelate and break down, Doctor Katherine threw one last look at Cole as he lay screaming upon the floor, whose world was no longer perfect.

"Don't you dare keep me waiting. I have plans for you."