You know when you wake up from a dream that is so vivid that it is traumatising? You're panting and sweating and you're on the verge of tears and you swear you'll never sleep again out of sheer fear of the vision recurring.
Because same. That's how I felt waking up just then in the pitch black.
I push myself up, only to be restrained by a strap across my chest. Whatever relief I had found for a second is incinerated as I realise that this is not my room and I am not being embraced by my doona.
I AM TRAPPED IN MY DREAM CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME I AM GOING TO DIE HERE AND BE IN A COMA 4 EVA!!???!?!
Relax you fool, this isn't Inception. You aren't smart enough to Nolan your way through this either.
It's as if I am having a seizure but I'm not. I try to break from these confines because whoever put me is probably not going to let me go if I ask nicely. Plus I am absolutely terrified of approaching people.
All of a sudden, lights flash on and people literally scream. I gasp, pressing myself into the back of the seat. Once my vision readjusts, I realise that I'm in one of those coaches. The kid beside me is out like a light, her head hanging limply as her body remains firmly strapped to her seat. I hear heavy boots marching down the aisle, taking people surprisingly quietly, and wonder how many more moments it will be before they realise I am awake.
"36D is up," someone says down the aisle, and those boots are coming again. This time, they draw so near to me that they are beside my seat partner and looking down on my face pale with fear.
The man holds a pistol. I know better than to defy him.
Without removing his eyes from me, he flicks a switch and releases me from my seat. "Stand up," he instructs and I obey, the belt falling to my feet. I could just reach over and swat the gun from him. But there are cuffs on my wrist that suggest that I think of another plan.
Like I said, you aren't Christopher Nolan. You're better off giving in.
Ok, I have a question. Who are you and why are you talking to me right now?
I'm you but smarter.
That bald guard... I bet he implanted a chip into me! So now I have Siri talking into my ear.
I'm not Siri.
Hey Siri, can the government hear my thoughts?
If I say yes, will you stop having stupid thoughts?
Uhm... no guarantees.
"Move it," the gunman hisses and notions for me to step over my sleeping partner. As Siri suggests—
I'm not Siri, dammit! I am your conscience!
Sounds fake but ok. I already have a conscience and it's pretty silent because I'm such a moral character.
I beg to differ.
Then beg.
I follow the orders of the gunman and walk down the aisle like a prisoner walking down a gangplank. There isn't much option when it comes to deciding where to go, the path is pretty straightforward. At last, we make it to a line where I am instructed to wait, leaving a meter between myself and the person before me. Every half minute, I move up a spot, but there is no indication where the front of the line is.
And so we wait.
I hear someone come up behind me.
Whatever you do, do not turn around.
