“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today it is beautiful, and everything is as it should be.” Before, I could remember that loudspeaker, always playing that pre-recorded message the same time every single day. Everytime the loudspeaker rings, it reminds me how I’m different, how I’ll never understand, and how childish I must seem to others. I feel heavy, and I often feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion trying to figure out what is happening to me. It’s always the same every morning, the repetitiveness lulling me into insanity. It makes me want to clutch my head and scream like a rabid beast. I don’t understand why. I conceal these things, though. Deeply buried inside me is where I keep all of those feel-ings. Locked away and thrown into the pit of my mind, only to be uncovered once more with the crack of the loudspeaker.

 I heard a knock at the door; the Checker must have arrived.  It has been a while since it checked in on me.  These visits were the start of my pain. The knocking got louder. I froze, my heart thumping in my chest the knocking growing ever so loud.

I stood there and waited for what seemed like an eternity, the fast knocking matching the pace of my heart. Then it became silent. The eye of a hurricane. There was a loud bang and the door flew down, the Checker standing in its wake,  light from outside shadowed its features. Paralized in shock, I laid there on the floor like a defenseless animal, my brain telling me to move, to run, to hide, but my limbs refused to comply. The Checker turned its head towards me, an unnatural mechanical grind sounding from its human like figure. It leaned forward and paused, and only then did I notice the small needle it held in its hand. 

“It’s time for your check up, Mr. McCarthy.” 

I tried to swallow down the golf ball in my throat and think critically. “I’ve already had my shot, Checker.” 

It paused then turned to face the door. “Very well, Mr. McCarthy.” He turned, then left.

It actually worked. The weight off my shoulders was instantly lifted, and I felt my mouth stretch across my face. I felt warm and fuzzy, something new and strange, but not unpleasant. I tried to hang on to that feeling but it quickly disappeared, shocking me back to reality. I had to get out of there because it wouldn’t be long before the Checker realized its mistake. I grabbed my pack and placed in it the few objects I had: an almost diminished roll of medical tape, a small pocket knife, and a can. I quietly crept toward the back door, trying to avoid the numerous cameras placed around my house. 

The minute I left, I felt like a rock had settled in the pit of my stomach. As soon as it came, it lingered only a small bit longer than the warm fuzzy feeling, then left. I took a breath, shook it off, and started down the street. As I passed by each house, I looked through their windows to find people living the same lives I had for many years until my realization. Every day the same as the Checker gives them an unknown substance, further leading them to be as empty and grey as everything around them. 

To my surprise, it was fairly easy to leave; all the machines were sent to recharge and nobody bothered to secure the premises. I was suspicious at first, but I figured that there was no need for all this because nobody had attempted to escape in decades. This escape took many years of planning. Before the Checker would give me the shot, I would record everything I learned in the past in a journal and hide it in places only I could look. After getting the shot I would try to take it out of my blood stream, in any way possible. I shuddered at everything I have been through and became ever more determined to get out of here. 

I paused, then looked up from the road. I was at the end. A huge metal wall towered over me and I almost stumbled backwards trying to find the top. Focus, I thought to myself as I tried to find the door at the wall. I felt around the cold, looking for a small crack disrupting the smooth consistency. There. I found the hatch and used my pocket knife to saw between the crack to the last bolt holding it in place; I had cut the other twenty previously. This door was used to transport boxes of produce, I was told, but I figured that if boxes can go through, so could I. I dragged the back of my hand against my sweat coated forehead and proceeded to crawl through the door. Years of planning, pain and preparations had led me to this moment. As I squeezed through the dark metal tunnel, questions of doubt started to fill my head. What was really on the other side? Was it worth it? What if they were correct? What if there was nothing outside? What if…? 

The tunnel seemed to never end. Then it hit me, I was really doing this. I suddenly became more aware of the walls around me and I felt them become smaller, seeming to suck out the air in my lungs. The air felt heavy and thin; it seemed to resist my breath. My spine started to ache and I could feel my skin going soft where it met the ground. I sped up rapidly, wincing at the contact between my raw knees and the metal flooring. I would do anything to get out of here. 

My head made contact with a wall, the end of the tunnel. I tried to push the end down, but it seemed to be held by something on the other side. I could tell it wasn’t bolts for its strength wavered and I could feel resistance. Knowing this I backed up then started charging for the door. My shoulder made contact with the metal, sending a shock of pain down my spine.

 “Now, now Mr. McCarthy.” I heard a muffled voice cajole. “You lied to me. Nobody lies to the Checker.” I inhaled sharply and went cold. “Don’t think I didn’t know about your plan, Mr. McCarthy.” The voice was heavy with amusement, and it made me sick. I tried to speak. but my throat was dry and my lungs refused to move. 

“Now you may have noticed how the air in the tunnel has changed. It won’t do much besides temporarily shut you up. This time, you will finally listen to me.” I fell limp against the metal and gasped for air. Why was my body so heavy? 

“Good, you’ve finally settled. Now, you may have noticed how you’ve felt things you can’t describe. These things are called emotions. There is angry, sad, happy, and a wide spectrum of these internal feelings. When  someone doesn’t take the shots I provide them weekly, they start to slowly feel these… emotions.  Once you feel these emotions, you notice how everyone around you seems mindless and bland, exactly how it was intended to be. You’re smart, aren’t you, Mr. McCarthy? Think about a time you wanted to break something, hurt others, and cause chaos. We call that anger. Now think about what would happen if everyone felt that way, children, mothers, fathers, and what they might do to everyone around them. Everyone would be in danger. You don’t want that. Now think about a time where you felt heavy, like a bunch of rocks collected in your chest, your throat tight and water seeming to fall from your very eyes. We call that sadness. Now imagine if people felt that. People burdened in a pain you can’t heal with medicine or bandages. Do you understand, Mr. McCarthy?” 

No, no he was wrong. This was wrong. I felt helpless. I wanted to scream in anger and sadness, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to feel, to live, to be free. 

“The shots, as you may have noticed, take away those burdens, so people can live in peace. We cannot have you disturbing this peace any longer.”

My fists clenched and I started to shake. Anger.

“Goodbye, Mr. McCarthy. I gave you so many chances to forget and live on normally…  it really is a shame you have to die now.” I heard a shuffle from outside and the pressing of buttons. I felt something start from behind me, like a steam pipe bursting. I felt around the walls corners and noticed air blowing from little cracks. No.. not air. It was poison gas. The very same gas that was slowly being leaked in the tunnel since I first crawled through. My breathing became more shallow with the growing seconds. I needed to get out. I started crawling to the opposite end. I’ll just have to find another way. I limped through the cold metal, my arms and legs growing weaker with every pace. They screamed in agony as I pushed on. Tears were starting to build at the edges of my eyes and my throat seemed to be closing in. I was almost there. My legs gave way and my head hung low. I… needed.. to… get.. out. My fingertips met the end of the tunnel. The door! I pushed against it with my thinning strength but realized it was just about as hard as the walls. It would not move. I reached for my pocket knife but felt that it had gone. My heart sunk and my eyes widened. I left it outside. This was all a trap. 

The gas closed in and I felt my consciousness slip away along with my breath. A tear slid down my cheek and I smiled. I would finally be free.