aaron_the fall of america_chapter_36

Chapter 36

Nothing.

Days melted into following days with nothing.

My nothing was interrupted only by violent dreams. I participated in killing old men and women. They had to die. Others had to die. Bad people.

They had returned me to my room. There I tried to remember. Nothing and violence. I couldn't remember why I had to kill, I couldn't remember if I had violent dreams or if I had really killed those people.

I kept having flashes of someone. He hit me so hard, I'd lose consciousness for days. I wouldn't even know if I had woken up until there were lights and I saw him.

"How are you," a voice asked.

"Very good, thank you," I answered prying opened my eyes.

A face appeared to me. It was a stranger's friendly face. It smiled a smile of servitude. There was no indication of consciousness beyond mechanical. I thought of opening his chest to see if he was flesh or synthetic.

"My name is Zizith. I've come to clean and feed you."

"That is very thoughtful. Zizith. Is that Jewish?"

"I am an American. I am a Christian."

"Yes. That's nice."

"Are you as well?"

"I don't know what I am yet. Is there anything else?"

"For us there is only what there is."

"Zizith."

"Yes."

"I get the feeling that you are out of character."

"You are quite perceptive for someone who's been here for treatment."

"Treatment. Why am I strapped down?"

"You are still dangerous."

"I'm not any such thing. Let me up so I can..."

"You mustn’t talk so much."

Zizith pushed a button on the side of my bed so that I was manoeuvred into a sitting position. I could see myself. I was naked and well strapped to the bed. Zizith placed a tray of food across my legs and started to feed me. The food was tasteless.

When the slight bit of food had been processed into my mouth, Zizith sponge cleaned me. The personal attention aroused me.

"Would you mind?" I asked.

I wasn't certain what I had asked but Zizith didn't seem to mind helping me relieve myself of my overdue ejaculation. Though it felt purely mechanical, it was a great feeling to have physical contact.

Zizith finished washing me, returned my bed to it's horizontal position and left.

For hours, I stared at the ceiling until I learned I didn't like the colour. It was a type of pale red that grew more disturbing as I sank into it.

The door slammed open.

"Training time, killer."

A man, who's face seemed familiar, took my restraints off and pulled me out of bed.

"You've got a full day ahead of you. At the end of two more months you'll be a new man."

He punched me in the stomach.

"Aren't you excited."

"Yes, thank you."



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by Joanne B. Washington

© 2001 | the jose wombat project