Instead of a normal pale blue sky, or a polluted smudgy background, the air was filled with psychedelic electric colours of purple, stretching as far across the horizon. I could dimly make out the shapes of strange beings flying through the horizon, sparks of stars continuously dying and being born in the same instant. The spectacle would’ve been beautiful if it weren’t so frightening.
“What - what happened to the world?”
“Short term version - we fought some Aliens. They won. Long term version - we wound up tearing the planet apart. The remains of the Earth’s hemisphere are now floating within the interiors of a passing Space Jellyfish. After awhile, we learned of their weaknesses, and fought the Aliens again. We still lost, and now they’re running the show. Only a few outposts such as this one are still being run by humans, because they have no concept of what we are. Even though they totally dominate us, they still don’t quite understand everything we do. They’re so alien we don’t even have concepts for what they stand for.”
“Who’s in charge now?”
“To be perfectly honest, we’re still not quite sure.”
“What?? How can you not know who’s lording over you?? Who’re the dominant Aliens?”
“All of them, apparently. There’s so many of them that we can’t even begin to keep up. Not to mention there’s numerous species we still haven’t categorized yet. Maybe nobody is in charge, and we’re all running around with our heads off.”
“Of the pockets of Humanity that still recall how they used to live, procedures have been undertaken to ensure that their way of life remains unperturbed. We've tried to ease the process of integrating their new lives with how they used to live, but it's been a painful slog. The sudden rush of information becomes more than they can possibly perceive, and in the process, their already fragile minds break down.”
"Uh? What??"
“As you've no doubt surmised, this prison that slipped through the cracks is a holding system for minimal security criminals. Rather than waste away in obscurity, some of the more influential higher-up aliens felt it was better that they be kept in a frozen state until the laws could determine how to best handle their crimes. Ironic that the last bastion of refuge is the lowest dredge of humanity - and not even the worst they had to offer.”
At that moment, the noise that’d been ringing in my ears suddenly became clear, because it was my own.
"You can't do this... I've done nothing wrong..."
“I know this is a lot to take in, but it's better to know the truth straight away, rather than build the suspense up for too long. Actually, it’s fairer to say that this prison is the best and last bastion of refuge for humanity these days. Here, you’re spared the horrors of what happens outside in the real world. Status has been lost, and the quo is past. How are you feeling?” He waved his hand in front of me, but I remained unresponsive.
“Pity.” He called from an unseen receiver saying, “He won't put up much struggle. He's all yours now.”
I finally asked the question I’d been dreading. “What... what about that Wanted poster? What’s the story behind that??”
“If you’re fortunate, you’ll never know.”
After this stunning revelation, I was escorted back to the cafeteria, putting up no further resistance. I now understood the truth, that while I was asleep, the world I once knew ceased to exist. The only familiar facsimile of our old lives was a mockery of unreliable memories of a time that never existed. There was nothing I could do to recapture the glory of ages past, their relevance having phased out centuries ago.
My catheter was put back in its rightful place. I put up no resistance, now fully understanding its use.
In the days to come, I spent my time wandering the hallways in a fugue state. I was dimly aware of existing, but not really living. That the time I was living in was vastly different from the one I was accustomed to, and that this retreat was little more than a false safe haven. I no longer became bothered about passing hallways where Alien creatures living in the walls were doubtlessly staring at my every movement. I saw several more former prisoners become released patients being wheeled out into the shimmering hallway to join our ever-increasing number.
For weeks, I sat numbly in the confines of my cell contemplating my fate. My once-untarnished shirt now stained with the splotches of the unidentifiable meals splattered all across my front. I stared at the contents of my nearby objects. Such seemingly harmless items that could cause irreparable harm to my body. I began to slowly understand how people here could lose their will to live just from inactivity alone.
By chance, one day during my aimless wanderings, I knocked over the cover to a video that was supposed to help the populace integrate themselves into society. It was a typical B-movie, back when such things were meant to distract from the pains of everyday life, but was now part of our lives now. I looked at the piles of disheveled old books and movies again. These items were completely inadequate for preparing us for the horrors that awaited everyone out there. And then, an idea implanted in my head.
I grunted up on my feet and went out onto the main floor. With renewed purpose, I seeked out my friend who'd made my acquaintance before succumbing himself. Despite the vast expanse of blank-looking faces, finding him wasn't that difficult. He'd holed himself up in one of his familiar haunts. The ball was bouncing lazily within the interior of a slowly spinning room. And even this sideshow was nowhere as pleasurable as it once was. His eyes were unfocussed and his face looked like it was in a perpetual epileptic seizure. I tried to get his attention, but had to resort to holding his head with my hands while I spoke to his face.
“Remember when you were questioning the reality of this place? Do you think you could display that kind of thing again?”
I spent several lifetimes waiting for a response to trigger past his traumatized form.
“Why? What’s the point of anything anymore?”
“There’s still people in here who don’t know about the outer world. Chances are good that when they’ll find out, their minds will be even more broken than ours. I want to avoid that. If we could open their minds up to the possibility of an alien threat that considers us as less than ants on their battlefield, they would be better prepared to accept beings that existed before the Big Bang exploded, and who’ll live on long after the universe has ended.”
A creeping look of comprehension began to dawn on his face. “You mean to put on an act to make them think on purpose?”
We already know what’s out there. What’s to stop us from questioning their reality?
At the next group meeting, the woman asked if there was anything we’d like to say, as long as it didn’t disturb the patients. While she probably wasn’t expecting a reply, I surprised her by making her schedule a little more interesting.
“Actually, I’d like to tell a story. About a man who wanted to find out the truth about the world, and found it.”
“That sounds just like what happened to me!” my partner sitting across from me echoed, playing the part of the Greek chorus.
“Excuse me,” the woman in charge said, “Is this really the time or place to be discussing such things?”
“If not now, when then? It’s not like we’ve got anybody else clamoring for attention.”
“Tell more! Tell more!”
“See? I’ve got a receptive audience. And don’t worry - I won’t reveal what I already know.”
“I’ll give you some leeway, but tread lightly.”
“Thank you. It all started when this man woke up in a steaming freezing chamber...”
Somewhere in a secluded room, the Head of Security met up with the Warden to draft a complaint.
“Sir, the patient in the Charles Dexter Ward is attempting to sow dissent by acting out several unsupervised long-term conspiracy theories. He’s partnered up with another patient, and they’re spinning elaborate stories designed to disturb the populace.”
“I’m aware. I’ve read the report, and a copy of the story they played out.”
“We should crack down on them and stop their heinous acts from making our patients more nervous than they should be.”
“It’s fine. Leave them be.”
“Is it really safe to let him continue?”
“The stories being told aren’t really for the prisoners in here. They’re to comfort the people out there with no sense of comparison. And we’ll get a better sense of what other patients are feeling based on the stories they’re willing to share with him.”
The Warden unveiled the blinds, revealing the blighted warped landscape of Alien architecture and broken sky hiding behind the frame. The Head of Security reeled away from the sight in disgust, but the Warden gazed unflinchingly into the maddening void, cradling his cup of warm liquid.
“Besides, we could use some kind of myths, urban legends and cautionary stories to explain what’s going on out there. I barely understand half of it myself.”
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