Clockwork Minds

Chapter 13: Games in Darkness

As the days turned into a blur of twisted games and psychological warfare, the psych ward became a stage for our dark creativity. We weren't just playing torture chess; we were devising elaborate schemes to see who could inflict the most psychological and physical pain on one another.

Kyelli, in particular, had taken to experimenting with the boundaries of our endurance. He found a way to smuggle in sharp objects—scissors, the tips of pens, anything that could cut through skin. He'd take his "subjects," often those who had lost a game, and challenge them to endure as he pressed the blade against their flesh. I had watched him one afternoon, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight, as he sliced a small line across the arm of a boy who had dared to mock him. The boy howled, but Kyelli only laughed, urging him to "embrace the pain."

We'd also created a game called "Truth or Torment." In this version, asking a question came with a physical price. If you answered truthfully, you had to endure a small amount of pain—an ice-cold needle pricking your skin, or a swift slap across the face. If you chose to lie, well, the punishment escalated significantly. There was always a crowd, eager to witness the spectacle. 

The thrill of someone else's suffering became a drug, fueling our little gatherings.

Luan would sometimes get lost in his own mind, and during those moments, I could see different facets of his personality fighting for control. One moment, he was the calm, calculating genius of robotics, meticulously repairing a small toy for Kyewlli. The next, he would snap, the wild side of him emerging. I remember one day, he became convinced that one of the nurses was a malfunctioning machine—a puppet who needed to be fixed. He had started talking to her about algorithms, demanding she reveal her "code."

"Tell me your input and output!" he shouted, causing the nurse to back away, her face pale with confusion. She had no idea that Luan's mind was spiraling, merging the boundary between man and machine, and he was ready to unleash the chaos within.

In the midst of all this, I was crafting my own twisted narrative. My victories in Torment Chess had fueled my desire for something greater. I was building devices that could change the game entirely. I had scavenged bits and pieces from around the ward—old toys, broken electronics, anything I could get my hands on—and started working on a device I called the "Mind Manipulator." It was crude, but the concept was simple: a headset that could induce feelings of fear or euphoria depending on the input I programmed.

I planned to test it on myself first, to experience the highs and lows of my own creation. My mind buzzed with excitement as I envisioned the potential of wielding such power over others. Imagine what I could do to them—how I could bend their emotions like puppets on strings. It was only a matter of time before I unveiled my masterpiece.

But the ward was filled with watchers, each one waiting for a chance to strike, to seize control. They didn't realize that they were all part of my grand design, fuel for my ever-growing ambition. I would burn away their weaknesses and, in doing so, emerge unscathed—a true embodiment of my grandfather's belief: only the strong survive.

As I settled into my nightly routine, the whispers of chaos surrounding me, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. They all thought they understood the game, but I was just getting started. The machines were rising, and I was their master.