Our Manufactured Reality

Chapter 3: Claustrophobic and Speechless

[Harper's POV]

The other side of the door was much like the room I'd woken up in. It was full of dust and cobwebs that screamed no one had been here in years. How long was in that pod? My thoughts wandered.

Continuing through the dark hallway, I came to the first room that wasn't locked or that required special access- somehow the electronics here still worked.

I pushed the creaky door open and coughed involuntarily from a large dust cloud that I'd stirred. Looking around, I was met with a room slightly different from the other one. It contained lots of control panels and consoles as before, but it seemed to have a different purpose.

The room was much more mechanical than the pod room- if that was even possible. The walls were lined with switches and dials connecting to wires. Some of the devices were blinking and I realized they may still work.

Approaching a nearby control panel, my eyes followed the wire that ran all the way to the other side of the room. I brought my eyes to look back at the panel, and glanced at the huge, ominously alone switch. Then, without thinking, I flipped up the metal handle.

All the gears and electronics seemed to start up at that action.

There was a clicking sound as if I'd set things back into motion, and all the mechanics of the room began whirring and buzzing. A light flashed behind me, and I turned to face the far side of the room where all the wires met. This was where all the wires were directed.

Lights powered up beyond the glass I now stared out, and a huge warehouse displayed itself before me. My eyes widened at the architecture of the sight below me and I could finally take in a breath of relief.

What luck. I'd stumbled upon a brightly lit expanse that was fully operational and definitely big enough for someone with claustrophobia. My heart leap at another thought: Maybe that's the way out of here.

~~~

After a few minutes of inspecting the room below, I wandered the halls once more.

At this point I had a bit of hope that the giant expanse I'd laid eyes on would help me escape this place.  My plan was to get down to that area and find a way out.  Easier said than done.

I trailed the corridor in search of a staircase or ladder leading down there, but had no luck.  Each room I entered either contained more pods or long-deactivated, rusty robots still in their charging stations.

Eventually, I drifted to another room at the end of the hall before a turn in the path.  I pressed on the door and was greeted with one-inch movement.  I sighed and pushed on the door as hard as I could.  With each inch it gave way, I felt a small draft.  With one final shove, the door swung open and I stood facing a tiny room with only one thing in it: a vent.

I crossed over to the vent and pulled off the grate.  The draft rushed at me and cooled my face.  This vent seemed a promising way out, but it was only a foot wide.  Therefore, I turned around to walk back out the door, only this was impossible now.

The door had closed.

Suddenly realizing my situation, I frantically pulled on the door and found it was much harder to open from this side.  It did not budge.

My breathing became fast and uneven as I pounded on the door.  The walls seemed to close in on me in this closet-sized space.

"Help!  Help!"  I cried out. "Please!  I'm trapped!"

Beads of sweat ran down my face as I spun around and ran back to the vent.

"Help!  Anybody, please!  HELP!"  I screamed through the vent, hoping my words would empty out into the building.  Someone could hear me.  Right?

Trying the door again, I tugged on the handle and continued yelling until my voice went hoarse.  Defeated and hopeless, I sank down against the wall and tried to slow my breathing after calling out one more, "Help..."

Just then, the door flung open.  Without thinking I jumped up and hugged my savior.

"Thank you.  Thank you,"  I whispered in relief, talking more to myself than the stranger.

"You're welcome.  How long were you in here?"  The boy asked, concerned and surprised.

"Just a few minutes."  I drew back and rubbed my neck in embarrassment, "I'm claustrophobic..."

"Oh.  That makes sense...  So you're okay, then?"  He also seemed a little out-of-place and absentmindedly tugged on his shirt.

"Yeah.  I'm okay now."  There was an awkward pause, "Um, what's your name?  I'm Harper by the way."

"Harper.  Cool.  I'm Charles.  But I only just found this out recently-"

"Did you lose your memory?"  I remembered my case of memory-loss.

"Yeah, I did.  How did you know that?"  He stood up straighter, intrigued.

"Because the same thing happened to me.  I woke up and they told me my name was Harper Atkins:  Patient 121."

"121?"  He cut in, "That's- That's my number too."

"Really?"  I thought for a moment, "You don't think that's connected with the memory-loss, do you?"  I rubbed my head as if to trigger lost answers.

"I don't know, maybe."  We just stared at each other for a moment, trying to piece together our situation.  And wondering how we could be connected, "Wait.  Are you sure you don't have any memories left?  Because some things may have transferred over.  I have this uncontrollable fear of small spaces for one...  Anything?"  He thought for a moment and then gave a tiny gasp.

"My stuttering..."  He spoke almost under his breath, "I can't believe it.  It's like it disappeared..."

"You stutter?  I didn't hear it before,"  I stated, attempting to get in on his thought process.

"I know.  That's the thing.  It's just gone."  He glanced up at me, "I haven't stuttered once since I met you."

"Fear can really take hold of people when they are alone.  I guess we saved each other."  I gave a half-smile.

"Yeah.  I guess so...  Thanks, Harper."  The sound of my name repeated felt comfortingly personal.

"No.  Thank you, Charles."  I stepped forward in gratitude, and quickly turned away as if to signal a subject change, "By the way, can I call you Charlie?"  I asked playfully as we began to walk down the hall.

"Sure." He chuckled, "If I'm barely used to my original name, what's the harm in a nickname?"  He grinned.

There was a pause in the conversation as we strolled down the corridor before he added, "Anyway, do you know how to get out of this place?  Or where we are?  Or even what year it is?"

"No, no, and maybe,"  I replied, counting on my fingers, "I saw a kind of warehouse down below that may be the way out."  He nodded, "We just have to find a way down to it..."  We both stopped in our tracks and Charlie walked over to a small ladder just inside another room.

"After you."  He motioned and I took his hand before descending to the ground below.