Why doesn’t anybody use the Bathroom anymore?
This was a question I wanted to address later, but wound up having to introduce earlier than intended. While the majority of patients here are outfitted with tubes for collecting their waste (myself included), the people in charge are exempt from that restriction. So where do they go to relieve themselves? As it turns out, the bathrooms are more heavily hidden and guarded than the security room, which caused the Head of Security no small amount of grief. (Sorry Guys!)
Getting into an Employee Bathroom is no easy task. It requires bypassing at least three different locking mechanisms that are designed to keep any unwanted intruders out. Beyond that, the usage of their faculties are utterly unknown to me.
As for Why they’re so hard to get into, well, that’s not exactly a question I’m qualified to answer. But fittingly enough, there's a handwritten answer found deep within the confines of a book found in the library. (Yes, there’s a library here, though like anything in this place, is notoriously difficult to find) To be more specific, it was a series of notes in the margins of a book written in tiny but still legible print. For the sake of preserving your eyesight, here’s the transcript reproduced at a larger font:
I was taking a small detour, doing some casual comparison shopping of merchandise, seeing the difference between certain models, all without trying to catch the eyes of the salespeople, who, if they were aware of my interests, would’ve surely pounced upon me and raised or reduced the prices of what was available, all in an effort to placate me, which was the furthest thing I wanted. I must’ve strayed longer than expected, because I felt that familiar rumbling in my bowels that signaled I needed to relieve myself. I looked for the familiar signs for where the bathroom should be, which were nowhere near the exit, but placed on the opposite side of the store, near where the extra backlog of stuff was kept. But before I could even enter, there was a man in a booth next to the door.
Thinking nothing of his presence, I attempted to go inside, but he stretched an arm across the door. “I’m sorry, but if you want to use the bathroom, you need to sign this form first.”
“Why, what is it?” I asked, my alarm bells ringing instantly.
“Oh, nothing particularly important - just a document assuring you of your privacy. Anything that happens inside will remain confidential.”
Curious, I gave the surprisingly dense papers a once-over. There didn’t seem to be anything terribly life-binding within these pages, but then, the most dangerous items are those that at first glance, seem utterly harmless.
“Is this really a big deal?” I asked.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Having gone through the perfunctory pages, and signing my name in the proper corner, I went inside, unsure what to expect. As far as I could see, there was nothing entirely out of the ordinary. There were several seated stalls, some standing urinals, some towels and a sink with soap. Oh, and a half-opened closet door. Curious, I took a peek inside. There was just a mop and cleaning supplies. All perfectly normal, nothing unusual. Still feeling slightly wary, I did my business, washed up and left.
“Did you enjoy your stay?” The guy in the booth asked, clearly violating the terms of the contract I just filled.
Nonplussed, I just replied, “Nothing happened.” He seemed satisfied with that answer.
A few days later, I needed to go again at another store. For some reason, the very same guy just happened to be stationed right where I needed to be. I was just about to go in, when the same arm stretched ahead, blocking my progress.
“What?? I have to sign another form?”
“It’s standard. You can choose not to, but I don’t recommend it. To save time, you can have multiple copies ready and waiting for when you need them in the future.”
“Thanks, but I don’t plan on using the bathroom that much.”
Upon these words, the guy shrugged and dropped his arm from the bathroom. “Have it your way.”
Truthfully, I was nervous about signing my name too much. I’d heard stories of people stealing other’s lives through unconventional means. And this seemed like a pretty likely racket. Inside the bathroom, it looked pretty much the same as the last one. It smelled the same too, but something was decidedly off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Then I noticed - was there supposed to be three private stalls or four? I couldn’t remember. From the outside, they looked identical, and the insides did too. At least from what I could see through the slightly ajar doors. The urinals were also of a different shape too. No, rather, they were of varying heights as if designed for people bigger and smaller than me. From my vantage angle, it looked perfectly normal, but just a slight shift of perspective revealed the optical illusion.
Feeling intimidated and oppressed, I left without peeing.
“Done so soon?” The guy asked.
“I... didn’t feel comfortable there.”
“Perfectly understandable. Come back when you feel up to it.”
I decided to go home instead.
Once again, a few days later, I found myself browsing another store, and the same man just happened to station his booth outside the bathroom. Who was this guy, and how was he guessing where I needed to pee? Was he stalking me?
I didn’t bother hearing his sales pitch, and his attempt to block my way was rudely brushed aside. The door led to a smaller room before opening to the main bathroom. Only, this time, I was beginning to regret not signing the form beforehand.
Inside, the tiles were of a strange checkerboard pattern that gave off a sense of vertigo from their mismatched squares. The overhead light cast a flickering glare that threatened an epileptic seizure for anyone who dared to look too closely. The booths had now multiplied on both sides, and now occupied the space where the sink should be.
Furthermore, a man was peeing at one of the urinals. However, the way he was positioned was strange - he was standing to the side, with his back against me. From that angle, he should’ve been making a terrible mess, but there was no uncontrolled splashing sounds, but a directly controlled stream, which should’ve been impossible. Curious, I asked if he was comfortable peeing like that.
He zipped up quickly, mumbling that it was better this way, and left before I could get any more answers out of him.
Most disturbing was the unidentifiable mechanical device standing in the middle of the room. It was circular with holes protruding from the inner rim, and a noticeable bulge protruding from the top, the function of which...
Wait.
I stepped closer, and experimentativly put my foot down on the outstretched lower ring.
A torrent of water poured out from the holes. It was a fountain sink! I felt a little relieved, having figured out the puzzle, but didn’t see any soap to go with it.
Feeling disquieted about not being able to wash up properly later, I decided to go elsewhere.
“Back so soon?”, the guy asked.
“I... didn’t feel comfortable.”
“Perfectly understandable,” the guy sympathized.
“I couldn’t find the soap.” This was a painful admission for me to make.
“Oh, it’s one of those, is it? In that case, I heavily recommend that you have an escort with you.”
I boggled. “What do I need a guard for??”
“He’ll put you at ease. Just sign here.”
Moments later, a burly man appeared from who knows where. He opened the door for me, planting his foot against one, and his body against the second door from the alcove. Inside, the interior of the bathroom had changed once again. Where the fountain sink had once been was now a contraption I didn’t recognize. The urinals were now far beyond waist height and hovered near the ceiling. The number of stalls had multiplied, and now stretched towards an horizon I couldn’t see, and the floor tiles gave the sickening impression of vertigo.
Being unable to reach the urinals, I opted for the closest stall instead, but not before the bodyguard had a quick look-around inside first.
“Looks clear. Don’t stay inside there too long. I can’t guarantee your safety.”
I pulled my pants off and sat down, trying to do a crap, but despite circumstances that would’ve made me lose my body functions, the pressure to perform in front of present company made it difficult. After a minute or so, I heard a pleasant splash from behind me.
Then, all of a sudden, the guard came bursting through the bathroom stall, making me clench my bowels. With a single arm, he wrapped around me and lifted me off my seat without explanation. He wore a concerned expression on his face and said, “We’re leaving NOW.”
He carried me as easily as I could’ve held a throw pillow. He rushed towards the door, while I struggled to put my pants back on. In response to my actions he practically screamed, “DON’T LOOK BACK!”
Only when we were inside the in-between space of the bathroom door did he relax his grip enough for me to put my pants back up. “Phew, that was close. I don’t want to experience that again.”
“What WAS that??? I almost soiled myself!”
“Count yourself lucky if that’s all that happened to you.”, he said, while reassuringly slapping my shoulder, which I didn’t find very reassuring. “For the time being, I don’t recommend going back there for a good while.”
“Who’d want to?? You guys are nuts! I don’t want to do anything with you!!” I left, dismissing their cajoling me back. I could manage without them - I never needed their “help” before this whole nonsense started.
Somehow, despite the disastrous previous incidents, I still wound up doing some window shopping, exploring my old haunts. And once again, I felt the need to relieve myself. Only, this time, I was surprised when on my way to the bathroom, where there was supposed to be a stall, no booth was in place.
I asked a clerk if they knew anything about somebody camping out in front of the bathroom, handing out forms to be signed before using. The general consensus was that they weren’t privy to employees working on the side.
“All kinds of business prop up at one time or another, and for one reason or other, fail or succeed.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to him? Did he leave a forwarding address?”
“No. It’s not our job to do follow-ups. We don’t pay attention to businesses that pop up within our walls. He’s not store policy. May I interest you in our products?”
I brushed the salesperson aside, and made my way to the bathroom door. It looked the same as usual. A single barrier protecting the rest of the world from the most perfectly natural function on Earth. All I needed to do was go inside, do my business, and leave. Simple. Easiest thing in the World.
I chickened out and decided to hold it in until I got home.
I checked out the other stores I’d gone to, and none of them had seen the guy in a while, and didn’t think much of it. He showed up to do some independent business, and then just as abruptly as he showed up, disappeared without leaving an explanation or word. Even the bodyguard was a dead end - nobody could recall ever seeing him in the first place.
Along the way, my insides started churning worse. There was the option of taking a bathroom booth, which were spread out all over town. But those were reserved, and the only way to access them was to already be hired for the job that’d allow you to make use of those faculties in the first place. And I didn’t think I’d be able to complete a hasty job interview in order to use one in the first place.
I contemplated buying some Adult Diapers, just so I could relieve myself in my pants. Even so, there’d be the trouble of putting them on in the first place. I figured I could go to a clothings store, choose a typical item off the racks, go inside the changing booth and make the change there and then. But there’d be the risk of being called out for a suspicious bulge in my crotch area, which would lead to a confrontation and lecture from the authorities. A small humiliation would be worth the risk of feeling a small window of relief.
After I finally relieved myself in the safety and comfort of my home, I re-evaluated my thought process. Looking back, it was a foolhardy plan - I’d need to stand in line twice - once for the diapers, and again for the clothes. But it wasn’t entirely fraught with blunders - there was still potential there. I didn’t want to be caught off guard next time, so I started wearing diapers whenever I went out. This was just a precaution against the unverifiable threat that was just looming behind that innocuous bathroom door. I knew that sooner or later, this bandaid wouldn’t be enough to protect me in the future. And sure enough, the day came when I was in too much of a rush to put on the extra layer of protection underneath. And that very same day, I ate a lunch that didn’t quite agree with me. Under those circumstances, I had no choice but to use the bathroom.
Fortunately, when I opened the door, it looked perfectly normal. There was just an odd number of stalls. The sink and soap dispensers were in the proper place. There were towels and urinals where they should’ve been. I went further in to conclude my business.
What happened next is impossible for me to describe, so I won’t even try.
And on that ominous note, it ends. You’d think there'd be some missing pages or a misplaced paragraph, but I read through the entire volume multiple times over, and nothing seems to be missing. The only clues inferred is that, considering all the embarrassing personal details this anonymous writer was willing to talk about, whatever he experienced must’ve been extremely bad.
Upon a second reread, I’m wondering if this isn’t intended to be a form of subliminal advertising. It gives vague details of an undetermined threat if people don’t sign up for a protection service before using the bathroom. If that is indeed the case, then it worked very well.
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