Lucky Day

I don’t know what day it is, but I’m lucky to be alive. I found this random empty diary laying on the floor, while going to Maintenance. It feels like years, or even centuries. I can’t know for sure. All I know, I could already be dead. We are locked in this mess. To elaborate, we are stuck in this facility, where “The Council” controls us, from day to night. Well, if there was a day and night. This facility is huge, it feels so big, but it must be just a fraction of the real world. There is no actual sunlight here, so it’s dark every time. Accompanied by only lights, and no windows, we will never know what time it is, or the date. Every day feels like the last one. It’s a real struggle, but we have no choice. Supposedly, we are the “Chosen Ones”, and have a bigger role in this, than we think. But I don’t think so. There is a bigger role in this, sure, but it doesn’t play where we take a part in it. “The Council” is planning something, but I don’t exactly know what. I hope I will find that out soon, and be able to write it in this diary. Before that, I should document my “daily” life, and how it feels like.

Writing this is a good feeling. We don’t have any attractions or free time, to do any fun activities. A diary is like gold for me in this situation. So, let me start with the very first day.

Everybody else (including me), were taken here, from a special moment at a special time. My roommates (if you can call it a room), including me, have a faint memory of the time, before we ended up here. But it stops there. If we do remember, even the slightest bit, our brains get erased, and we don’t know what else happens to the culprit. It’s scary business here.

We were taken to this facility that day, and from that day forth, we are working all the time. From handiwork to paperwork, each one of us does something. We have separate times for work, food, and sleep. Well, we get a lot of work, but not much food or sleep. I can be happy if I even have one “White Stone”. It’s not even real food, it’s called White Stone, and it tastes and feels like chalk, but it makes you feel good, a few minutes after digesting it. It may be a drug, but we can’t be the one to judge, because we don’t have anything else to eat. It keeps us full (to an extent). There is no water, and so this “stone” also has liquids inside, which I couldn’t describe the taste or feel of. It’s weird. Very weird. But my body feels satisfied somehow? It’s hard to explain.

Still, that’s food. We also don’t have much sleep. I couldn’t tell the time, because that’s impossible here, but if I had to say, me sleeping feels like 2 hours from 24 in total. It’s not very much. Dangerously less even. The Council says that the human body is in perfect shape with that amount of sleep, and that we shouldn’t worry. But they can’t fool me. Even with the White Stone, I can feel it. I can feel that I’m slowly, but surely, losing control of my mind, my body, and just everything. I feel like giving up, and it’s like I can’t do this anymore. However, something pushes you to keep on going. Maybe because there is nothing else to do. Some say it’s better to work and be good for something than just die in this abyss.

And that was our sleep schedule, then comes the worst, and hardest of them all: work.

I don’t exactly remember what actual work is, or how you would define it, but even so, I think that you can call this overwork. We either carry the White Stones out of their bizarre caves, where they come from, or fill out questionable quizzes, and they sometimes interrogate us. That’s not all, there is a whole ton more, but those are the usual ones. Do that, eat some stones, “sleep” for 2 hours, and repeat. That’s our daily routine, and it never feels different to wake up, and start the “day”. I wish it would. I would love to experience a life in the real world again.

That’s probably impossible. These people are crazy, that’s for sure. They wouldn’t even let us take fresh air. The hell do I know, maybe there is no air or any outside here. I’m starting to lose my sanity, and every second feels like I’m going slowly down a spiral of hell. I bet I’m already near rock bottom. Nonetheless, I’m starting to realize that what we’re doing is way worse, than I thought it was, after writing it down, and thinking about it. I don’t like to repeat myself, but every freaking day feels the same. I can’t tell how old I am, what date it is, where I am, or anything related to that. We don’t have windows, mirrors, or even actual bathrooms. There is no sunlight, no nothing. We stay in this hellhole the whole time, and it’s worse when you get to sleep. My roommates (or cellmates) and I are in this tiny, dark room, where we are locked down in, until the time comes to leave. It feels like prison, but you wish it actually was.

Oh, no. I think that’s enough story time for this diary. At least for now. I see the guard walking in the corridor. I’d have to think of a place to hide this diary in, and of an excuse, because I shouldn’t be here. Not only that, but I think he saw me. He is slowly walking towards me. I hope this ends well. I will leave the diary where I found it, and hope that I can resume this documentation next time. Except I think that’s not possible, the guard is now running towards me.

Goodbye Diary.