by Palmer Halstead
I woke up in a sweat. Lights were blaring all around me.
“Hello, Dexter,” a man in a black suit said, sitting on a chair right next to me. He had sunglasses on, and his facial expression was blank. I couldn’t tell who he was or what he did, but he seemed threatening.
“We’ve been investigating you. We know you have an interest in working with us.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Oh, I think you know. Come with me.” He opened the door and waved towards the outside.
He led me down a series of long corridors. I could hear the buzzing of the light bulbs above me. He turned at the second left, which led through another hall that had doors lined along both sides, labeled with 1B, 2B, 3B, and so on.
“These are your living quarters,” he said, pointing towards room 11B.
He opened the door for me, and I walked in. I looked around. It was nice; it had a bed that looked like it wasn’t made by a person, but a robot. The sheets were crisp like they were ironed twenty minutes before. The pillows were fluffed perfectly. There was a TV on the opposite wall of the bed, which played one of those intro channels like at a hotel. I wasn’t stoked that I was going to live in a hotel room, but it would be fine.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a loud bell. I checked my watch. It was five fifteen in the morning. I got out of bed groggily and went to breakfast. I asked others what we were doing there, but no one responded. After about ten minutes of silent breakfast, another bell rang. Everyone left the room, their heads hung and eyes blank like zombies. As I was leaving the room with everyone else, wondering if I looked like a human, unlike the people around me, the man approached me again. He was in the same clothes as before, with the same facial expression. I didn’t understand how he looked the same as before, but I decided not to let it bother me too much.
“This way,” he said, walking to the opposite end of the corridor than everyone else.
I followed him as he opened the door at the end of the corridor. It led into a room with walls covered in televisions. The only light source was a control panel on one of the walls. He grabbed my arm and guided me to a chair in the back of the room. He clicked a few buttons on the control panel, and an orientation video began to play.
“So, you’ve been thrust into a new job at the STA,” a cheery voice said, “Well, don’t worry, because I am here to guide you through it!”
“Your job here at the STA is to supervise your designated subjects in Control Room A.”
“Control Room A?” I thought. “How many are there?”
“All you need to do is watch your designated subjects and report anything suspicious to your supervisors! It’s that easy.”
“Watch them?”
“Now, you may be asking, why are we monitoring them? Well, it is to deliver them the best product they could ask for!” The voice got softer and quicker and said, “We also sell them to advertisers, but you don’t need to know about that.”
About five minutes into the video, the voice said something weird in a more serious tone.
“And if you say anything to anyone outside of the STA about this, you will be punished.”
What did that mean? How bad would I be punished? I wanted to ask so many questions, but the video switched back to more of a cheery tone.
“If you see anyone looking like they are wondering if someone is watching them through a camera, blocking the camera with anything, or anything else like that, report it to your supervisor.”
The televisions turned off, and the man turned the lights on.
THE END