When Challenging Perceptions

Log #2

August 2, 2105, 9:05 AM

I sometimes can't help but despise my circadian rhythm. I tend to sleep for only a few hours, then wide awake. Then, instead of sleeping at my recommended time, I fall asleep in the middle of the night while reading. How I even manage to make it to my bed afterward is anyone's guess. 

I decide to shower, though I can hear AI's voice. "Excuse me, Number Two-Two-Four-Five. Is it not rather early to shower? Given the time constraints of the shower, might I suggest waiting until the appointed time?"

"No, AI. I wish to shower now. Ready the water, please, and raise the normal temperature a few degrees."

"I do not recommend that, sir. Doing so may result in drying out of the skin or even burns."

Though AI watches out for me, I don't find its constant doting appealing, and I don't like arguing. "AI, I want the shower procedure set to manual operation."

"Yes, sir. Setting shower procedure to manual operation."

I sigh, thankful I didn't need to initiate the override failsafe. Admittedly, I somewhat worry if anyone has ever used it before. I get in the shower and run the water exactly how I prefer. The only caveat is that the automatic shut-off feature still activates after fifteen minutes. Sometimes, just once, I would like to shower for as long as I please. I'd probably bathe too if allowed. Most tubs, however, are no longer used due to an increased risk of injury among our older tenants.

Once my shower is complete, I go back to my room to pick out an outfit. Most of today's recommended getups are shorts and different-colored T-shirts. However, part of me hates some of the clothing choices. A lot of them make me feel substantially older than I actually am. One of them, however, sticks out to me: an old baby-blue football jersey, belonging to what used to be the Roscott Drivers. I used to watch their games all the time as a child. The shirt, which had a big forty-one in bright red with a white outline, belonged to Richard "Dick" Severstein—the best quarterback on the team.

At about 9:30, I am fully dressed. Since I am not required to go down for breakfast until 10:30 or so, I sit in my chair and subconsciously think about what I want to do today. Since it is Sunday, most of us can do as we wish. Some use this day to laze about in their rooms as I do and enjoy the quiet. I typically use it to catch up on any missed readings. For other men, some of them will hang out in the cafeteria and play cards, or maybe watch the game. Others will go outside and play basketball or work out in the gym. Though it doesn't seem like it, there is plenty for us guys to do in this facility.

"AI, any recommendations for me today?"

"Well, one suggestion is to exercise to keep fit. According to past examination, there has been a notable decrease in your muscular endurance. You might need to schedule a visit to the gym later today."

"Yes, of course." I regret asking AI for a recommendation, as I am not really a physical person, as it were. 

With nothing else to do, I elect to listen to some music while I wait for the breakfast bell to ring. When it finally does, I make my way down to the mess hall. All of the food is already prepared and ready to serve. A lot of the other men appear to be absent. Perhaps they had already eaten and are already enjoying their cheat day.

I sit down in my usual spot and unlike yesterday, a small holographic menu full of breakfast options appears before me. Scrolling through the screen, I see the traditional standard fare: eggs, pork and beef sausage, toast, waffles, and such. I decide not to fill up on breakfast too much as I decided to go to the gym to appease AI. 

Once breakfast is finished, I decide to see what everyone else is up to. Once I step through the double doors and make my way outside, I see everyone is outdoors enjoying the weather. Most of the guys are on the court and running about, and even some of the women are taking strolls through some of the walkways. It's one of the rare moments where we actually seem like a collective of sorts.