-Pretense-
The long, squat building extended for a mile in each direction in front of the old woman, and easily in another mile towards the ocean on the other side of it. It's large metal doors clanged and squealed in agony as they slowly creaked open to allow her entrance. She stepped inside to meet the musty, rotten smell of the institution that she had become accustomed to since she had first visited almost eighteen years ago. A doctor met her at the entrance, his bright white cloak a stark contrast to the dark and dingy walls that he inhabited.
"Good afternoon, Miss Linda," he said, obviously oblivious to the fact of where he was.
"Hello doctor."
"Follow me, please."
They trod wearily down the windowless hall, the doctor a good seven feet in front of the old woman. The corridor's only sources of light were the hanging lights that often blinked on and off in their disrepair. The residents here had no use for light, and the doctors that traversed these halls knew them better than their own homes. Muffled murmurs came from every door along the hall, creating an eerie ambiance like that of a tomb where men had been buried alive; but the old woman had been here many times, and was no longer alarmed by the disturbing sounds. At least, that's what she told herself.
"Could you slow down just a bit, doctor. I'm not able to move as quickly as I used to."
The doctor merely paused in mid step, his stride broken only by her words for a moment, and then continued on his way. The woman opened her mouth to ask again, but instead picked up her pace to catch up.
"You know," said the doctor, "We still don't know what causes this phenomenon."
"Is that so," replied the woman, winded already.
"Yes. There are more and more cases showing up everyday." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing of importance. Of course, to him it probably wasn't anything more than a job to be done. "There are over six billions cases now, over half the population. It seems to be spreading more rapidly now."
"It's horrible..."
"Of course it is. No one wants to see their child born like this. They simply come out and don't even cry. It's weird. Been happening for over two-thousand years now. You would think they would have come up with something by now, but instead they keep on putting it off." He shook his head. "They figure it isn't anything life threatening so there isn't anything to really worry about."
The voices from one of the rooms screeched and howled in pain as they passed. The doctor made a note of the door number, and took a device out of his cloak shaped like a small box. He dialed in the number on the door followed by a series of digits that indicated that the resident had just expired. He continued onwards, just as the woman had caught up to him.
"Yes, we are no closer than we were when it first started happening. It is kind of like a collective unconscious, unlike anything that had ever occurred before. They all go out, their eyes glaze over, and they just start muttering about inane things. Things that never existed, things that make no sense. Things like "˜roses,' and "˜birds'. We have tried to compile sketches of what these things could possibly be, but they all come out looking convoluted and like nothing that could ever exist. The weirdest part is that they all seem to be in the same delusion, like they are somehow collected. They have created their own world, and they're the only ones invited. Why, I'd even go as far as to venture..."
The doctor rambled on about his the strange dreamlike state that all those affected were induced with, and then went on to brag about the advancements he had made in the field. As he was passing his "valedictorian speech," they came upon one of the small square windows that adorned the building. The woman gazed out of it to the gray sky; to the burning sun that hid behind them; to the parched river that once ran through the town outside of these steel walls. It dried a few years ago because the
Mountain pass that it emerged from had been blocked. They were now forced to work harder so they could import water from a neighboring town. The clouds never lifted from the sky, and it seemed as if they were always growing heavier with rain but refused to release the torrents. The doctor paused in his narrative, and turned back to the woman.
"Excuse me, Miss Linda? Are you coming or not?" he asked aggravatedly, probably more so that he hadn't been aloud to continue with his story than that she was too far behind him.
"I'm sorry, sir. Continue."
He smiled unconvincingly, and turned around to continue down the hall.
"Anyway, as I was saying, it seems that they have even created their own excuses. Remember that bit of Gorthean Plague that got to one of the institutions about fifty years ago now? They thought it was a war. Something about someone in Institute 562, I believe his name was Ad-something, wanting to eliminate a race or whatnot. Means nothing to us in the real world though, right? Well, anyway here we are Miss Linda. I'll be waiting out here for when you're done."
He placed his hand on the scanner and the door released. She walked inside to see a skinny boy with long, straggly blonde hair lying silently on the table in front of her, his blue eyes starring silently at the featureless ceiling. On each of his arms was attached a tube to feed him and insure he did not get dehydrated. All around the room were pictures on the wall's that he could not see; pictures he had drawn while asleep in his never-ending phantasy. They were like things out of a dream. Small animals with feathered wings soaring through the sky, beautiful green stalks attached to vibrant patches of color, and oceans of a deeper blue than could ever really be possible. He couldn't see them, but he drew them anyway. She somehow knew these were windows into his world of diseased illusion.
She smiled sadly, his silence identical to every other time she had visited. She remembered the sky outside, and wandered over to him, starring into the empty eyes that had never closed since he was born. They were the most amazing shade of blue she had ever seen, with streaks drawing inward to the diminished pupil. She leaned down to hug him closely, his body still warm despite the cold cell.
"You know, sometimes I'd rather like to join you."
She took one more look at the boy and the pictures on the walls, then stepped out of the room. The doctor closed the door again, sealing away the child in darkness. He did not even know he was in the dark, though, so it hardly mattered.
