Headcell: Part V

"A story of a man struggling to retain his sanity in a world dominated by an evil, inhuman society that demands absolute perfection from its citizens."

The hard, rasping words of the reformer bore into the cold metallic silence as She stood before the Prisoner.

"So now you are aware."

The age of contemplation was now over, and the harsh new reality was only just beginning. A fierce, binding heat had overtaken the Prisoner's body and His eyes stung at the sight of Her and Deytree, both of them indestructible pillars of doctrine. These two pillars bore into him with cold, lifeless eyes.    A lot of time had passed, or must have, very likely may have in the old world. The only measure was his rising body temperature; the heat brewed and raged deep within and slowly crept up his entire body, starting in the legs and working up. He still felt on fire when She came over and leaned over him.

"Awareness is one of the final steps. You see the truth, confront it before you. Now you simply embrace it." She spoke. The walls looked to be moving in closer. Time and space were starting to unwind, perhaps the Prisoner's mind also. His body was coated in a layer of sticky sweat, his limbs ached and the usual emptiness was present in his stomach and heart. He spoke.

"Things seem neverending. This room is the same, yet different. This entire place stands to be the same. I'm not sure where to proceed from here. My...your...reformation of me...has been a constant struggle."

He glanced up at the Girl again. How desperately he wanted Her to show some sign again, some sign that the State hadn't completely cleansed her, corrupted her beauties both inner and outer. But nothing. Tears filled his eyes.

"What was once so pure, so bright...is now gone. Your death would have been more bearable than what is so."

Words that would normally have melted the heart of a fellow unreformed, yet Her shell remained tough. Deytree smirked at the Prisoner's attempts to revive a shattered humanity. So far, in this reality, what was lost before stayed lost, in every sense of the word. Deytree cackled at the broken being before him, one hand holding his cap, the other planted against the white wall.

"He is almost ready. This time was the one. I always knew it."

His sickly smile spread across his pale face, exposing the slightly yellowed teeth. A hand lay across his baton in anticipation of something brutal. Very likely ahead and soon at that. The walls kept moving in. They will never stop now that have started, thought the Prisoner. The interrogation had lasted almost an entire day thus far and outside the sounds of unreformed being led back to Block 13 could be heard. But these two here had no intention of letting him go so soon. Not for the unreformable. Now they both came over, standing on either side of him. The Prisoner wiped his glistening forehead and ran a hand through greasy hair. He looked up at them both.

"This time is like any other. I implore you, if the suffering should come, make it. I am always ready." The Prisoner uttered, staring straight ahead. The walls were getting closer still, trying to crush the room's inhabitants, maybe just him.

"Suffering will be here soon enough. But for now, perhaps you should be left as you always have been, whilst we...consult...on your condition."

She and Deytree exchanged a knowing glance at this, not caring if the Prisoner understood the sentence's true meaning. Everything in Block 13 had two sides. No two things were ever really alike, yet they looked exactly the same. The Warden always boasted of such a grand illusion. But the Prisoner knew that, and especially now, knew a lot more than He had ever wanted to know. The heat crept up further and He shifted uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair. The Girl's eyes never left him as Deytree moved towards Him, unclipping his baton, and he swiftly whacked the Prisoner's head, causing Him to keel over quietly and fall unconscious to the floor. The Girl studied His comatose body. Once, before the changes, She may have felt something. But that was primal. That was Her vice speaking. She looked then at Deytree, happily slipping the baton back into his belt. He never felt anything. He nodded at Her and moved towards the door, holding it open for her.

"After you."

They left, locking it behind them. Their voices could be heard outside as the clacking of their boots faded slowly into the distance. The Prisoner, in fleeting consciousness, remarked on one thing and one thing only; those pillars would never be broken, He mused. His vision twirled and spun and tumbled as blackness swallowed the things around Him. The void was here now and He was in it. Like the dreamscapes of the past, which not even the State could penetrate. She had been there with Him, She was again, but not the same. Never the same.

Only one true world existed now. The pillars that held it up kept Him there.

==========================================================================================================

Awaking slowly, the blackness engulfed all around Him. Eerie and atonal, but utterly beautiful. He always enjoyed these lands, because they were the sum total of all that lay outside life as most people knew it. She understood that perfectly too, hence why on Their many visits They always insisted on staying longer than They likely should. As He got up He sighed happily; the aches and pains of the new reality were gone, as they always did when He arrived. A sense of beautiful weightlessness pervaded Him and He walked forwards. Or on the spot. Or not at all. It was never clear what movement did in the dreamlands, for only the sense of motion could be felt over motion itself.

But up ahead, something lay this time. Bright and inviting. Like a beacon, a white glowing speck, it beckoned to the Prisoner. He walked faster and faster. It came closer, ever so gradually. As He drew nearer He saw two chairs positioned facing each other. The beacon was a glowing orb hanging directly overhead. Instinctively, He slowed down and planted himself in one of the chairs. Here, nothing mattered; not life, death or in between. The Prisoner closed his eyes, surrendering to the void. Deep, peaceful quiet overtook him until he heard them.

Steps, far off in the distance yet drawing nearer. He opened his eyes to see a figure approaching slowly. It was sleek and shone like silver. It was headed directly for the chair and when it arrived, he was left speechless for the thousandth time that day. It wasn't a mirage, yet it still seemed so close yet so far; it was Her. That is, Her before the reformation. She was smiling at him, the same old loving gaze had returned. His stomach melted into calming warmth.

"Here we are again."

"In the good lands. I remember that's what you always used to say."

Her teeth flashed again in another smile.

"Used to? When'd I stop?"

"When you..." His voice fell. The calming warmth was being eaten by the old coldness again. She looked puzzled now. They were safe here though, always would be. She might know what He would say.

"When I what?"

"They got you. When they found out."

"That day."

"Do you remember?"

"Of course. Not just being dragged into that godforsaken van, but about us, the way things used to be."

Their voices should have echoed, but the void, huge as it was, had always been a giant suppressor. Not just of voice, but negative emotion, worry, all of the poisons plaguing the new reality. But that was that world, this was their world.  She was still talking about that. The Prisoner leaned forward in his chair, his arms resting on cotton legs.

"The way things used to be. Oh God...why did it have to end like this."

"End? What are you talking about?"

Memories flooded into his mind, infecting the solitude he'd been enjoying. But at least the void would suppress the pain. She was so beautiful, even if it were only here she now roamed.

"I'm in the final stages. They've told me the truth. They showed me what they did...to me...you too. You've become...they made you...one of them!"

Absolute shock. Somehow, even here, the silence turned out deafening. He studied Her closely. Surely She should have known this was the only way it could have ended? Studies in the early years had proven that women were always more susceptible than men to the process, they often were reformed faster than their male counterparts. The State's propaganda masters had no real reason to lie in their society; only the harshest of harsh truths were spread. The new reality would continue this trend. She leaned forward after what seemed an eternity (if time existed).

"Yes...maybe you're right. But don't worry about me."

"Why wouldn't I? You've become a living nightmare!"

"True. But you're forgetting something..."

I paused, listening closely.

"Only one of my selves is your enemy."

The blackness grew thinner at this. He shifted in His chair. It was growing uncomfortable, for perhaps the first time in the dreamlands. Usually sensations were limited purely to the emotional, never the physical. But He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. She remained adamant however, getting up and walking to him, radiant and glowing angelically.

"The State is unaware of one simple fact. A fact which they have not and never will discover. Each and every being on Earth has two selves; an outer and an inner. The outer is the one which exists in the physical plane, and which can be hurt and destroyed. Hence the reformations. But as for the inner..."

Trailing off a moment, her eyes seeing into the eternal nothingness, He watched her. The past preserved everything and the best memories could always be relived in their glorious freshness. When this happened you savoured it like a fine wine, letting the sweetness flood the brain and trouble wash down the drain. This was one of the dreamworld's greatest traits. She picked up her words again a few seconds after stopping.

"The inner...is eternal. It can never be silenced, never be destroyed. It can be either your best friend or greatest enemy. But the point is that nobody, not even the State, can get at it. It remains inside you, as your very soul maybe. My outer is long dead thanks to the changes, but my inner will always live on. Here. With you."

Those blinding tears began rolling again. He wiped them away. Sorrow was not part of this world, he wouldn't allow it to taint its sheer perfection.

"Your inner has always been a foe. Your outer too. The two selves are best friends, but you're not with either of them. The past is seen only for its negatives. You feel that nothing can fix you, that you're the constant mistake. But you're wrong!"

She shouted these words, but the void's suppressions made them almost deafening next to him. He shrank back in his seat, hands cupped over his ears. He felt his lower lip trembling, but forced it to stop. She lay soft comforting hands on his shoulders.

"Stop being wrong. See the past for our good times. The State got me but you can't let them get you. You have to show them once and for all what it really means to be unreformed; that unreformability is the real truth."

The Prisoner stumbled for words, his tongue failing and feeble for them. Sourness was the keyword here, a first in this real-yet-not world. He had to ask before it was over.

"But what about my inner..."

She knew it before he finished.

"They'll be fixed. Stop letting them keep you. Play along with them, show them what they've been looking for. Teach them your truth. Then leave. Block 13 was never your home. Your only real home is in here, with me. But that'll come when it does."

Understood exactly. The words washed through Him. The coldness in the stomach was being warmed again; the void had cured all. She was right. In the new reality, He had found the lost. In the dreamlands, the infinite voids, the lost had never really been lost after all. And it had shown Him the way out. He slowly stood up, floating in his own skin. Nothing mattered, especially after that. She came to Him and they embraced as they used to, in the good times. The only times which existed here and the only ones that ever would. After their lips parted, they stared at each other.

"How I missed you..."

She ran a hand across His cheek. He smiled widely at feeling those silk hands run across His flushed face. If God truly did exist then it was hard to believe that most of his creations were those of pure evil. She made Him forget that one too.

"You don't have to anymore."

"I know. Just do what I have to."

"Your inners will be better for it when you do. They're all living a lie. Embrace their lies but remember the real truth. Then you'll find your freedom."

They kissed again, quickly. Pulling away from Her, the reluctance gnawing at his insides, He watched as She began to leave again. But this time not staying gone. Her glowing form walked off into the space. He felt the warmth grow warmer than ever, even stronger than it had in their days of vice. The glowing beauty stopped a moment and Her voice faintly called to him.

"The truth...never forget...the truth..."

He smiled, this time out of joy. Their truth was what would prevail over everything. The truth of one reality would become the liberator of another. The chairs were beginning to fade and her glow was now but a distant speck. Weight was now returning in full force. How he loathed it. Voices broke through the blackness, which had turned to sheets of white-grey fluctuating throughout. Gravity left and a sudden freefall swept the floor under him. But He felt no fear. Rather excitement. His eyes were shot with hard brightness, light overtook everything in sight. Sight revealed what had been the ruination of his very being only a few hours before. She was silhoetted against the interrogation room's light but Her voice was still steely.

"It has been decided. Get up."

Grabbing him roughly by one arm and jerking him upward, He dutifully complied. But on the inside, he was laughing maniacally. He had his answers at long last. Whatever lay ahead, whatever tortures were to be inflicted were utterly meaningless.

And the best part was, She had no idea that She had given them to him.

==========================================================================================================

Walking through the pits once more, they emerged into the familiar grey darkness of Block 13. She and Deytree had alternated between beating and dragging Him along, but they had underestimated His will and the newly gained knowledge. The walls and floor passed in a blur. Inside the Prisoner's mind, the dreamlands were alive and kept him calm. They were going to have to for the final 24 hours of the process. When they threw him in his cell and slammed shut the barred doors, he lay limply on the floor and stared. On the outside the Girl and Deytree took up their positions, keen to keep up the hell while it lasted. They taunted him mercilessly.

"You cannot live until you suffer the necessary pain! Pain is the key, YOUR PAIN IS THE KEY!"

She encouraged him.

"The only key and the best key!"

The black bars moved both closer together and further apart. The floor's hardness dug into His skin. The calming warmth hadn't left His stomach and He basked in its soothing effects as the reformers kept up their game. Deytree ran around the cell trailing his baton against the bars, the sound loud enough to burst the eardrums and wake the dead. Perhaps it did, for screams emerged from either vast ends of Block 13. They mixed with the sounds of Deytree's sick pleasure cackling away. The Girl watched, clearly enjoying the barbacity of it all. Her eyes never left His, yet not in the way they had done in the past. Her new outer loved watching his outer be broken. Eventually Deytree slowed down and reholstered his baton. He took off his cap and wiped sweat off his forehead.

"I feel the second serving of pain has yet to be served. Mental death still isn't enough, we must grow physical also."

She nodded agreeingly. To them, pain was a sweet nectar and remained one of the only things from the old world which was still allowed to be indulged in. If one held the right positions, as She and Deytree did. The masters of the State bathed in it, glorified it, doled it out to all those underneath. The Girl spoke out, her voice thick with the promise of it all. How He pained hearing the corruption in Her voice.

"Yes, yes! The truth must be reinforced if he is to become one of us. Be part of the real reality."

Turning to him as she walked away, her vixen features were distorted into those of a demon. He watched, not caring anymore. The truth told him differently enough of this reality for him to do so. Her smile was hideous.

"Once this is done, you shall thank us for it."

Deytree nudged her and they went into one of the countless side doors dotted along the gigantic walls, leaving Him to float in his own world. Non-existent minutes passed by until they returned bearing their various physicalized sadisms; knives, clubs and what appeared to be electric tazers. His eyes turned skywards again; those phantom snipers would still train their sights on him, not to kill, but to observe. He often wondered if there was really any difference anyway.

Her new outer was sliding open the cell door now, her polished boots clacking their way towards him. Where in the dreamlands she had appeared radiant, now she appeared malevolent, a black entity. It bent over Him bearing a tazer in Its hands, the eyes gleaming with menace. He stared back, accepting His fate.

"The necessary pains are the final sufferings, which tomorrow shall lead to the redemption. The absolute reformation, from thereon you'll be free once more. Free from the insides, from the thing that lingers!"

Flicking a switch, the tazer buzzed to life. The long metal end shot sparks of vibrant blue, spitting electricity. She held it over his stomach, deciding on a favored section. She turned to him again while the stinging agony crackled in her hand. Menacingly alive and ready to cause as much pain as possible. Taking off Her cap and placing it on the ground beside her, She looked at the tazer wonderingly as she held it over the target area.

"Freedom has to be won. Consider the next few hours your victory."

Pressing it against his body and blasting it full power, the victory finally began in full harsh power. How sweet it tasted, to both parties.

==========================================================================================================

The area swam wildly around Him. Pain shot through the body like a thousand cannons firing at the same time, reaching every crevice and every spot. Yet all the while He kept traveling from one plane to the other; a constant traveler if ever there was one. But this was not what was on His mind, what little of it remained in the new reality anyway. The Girl was going all out and she was determined to break Him into Her society. Right now She had moved on to the cutthroat razor, perhaps the very same the Commander had used on Walker all that time ago. She drew it quickly back and forth across His body with quick, cobra-like strokes. Blood glistened on the thin blade as She screamed wildly, spots of red growing on Her.

"The humanity is gone! The humanity is gone! You are going to become one of us! The good society!"

He writhed and writhed on the cold hard floor yet never thought of trying to get away. Not with what He knew now; there was too much left to look forward to. Only His outer should be destroyed, in this horrible existence. The Girl questioned not His still body; His breathing remained erratic and the signs of life too clear to mistake. So the torture continued, wholly disgustingly agonizing yet never enough to kill Him; only He would say the words that guaranteed Him acceptance into the new reality. Flailing on the floor like a stuck pig with the black uniformed devil above Him, this was His final unreformation. The razor stopped soon; She was clearly growing bored by now. Blood was blood, spilling it was fun yet that was all it ever amounted to. Something more drastic should be required. Walking to the corner of the cell to a large metal box, She opened it up slowly and peered inside, tossing the razor in. Pausing a moment, she turned to look back at him.

"This is the true tool of reformation. Something that works now and forever. Be prepared."

The metal box held the final dooms. If it had existed, the time until the completion would be short, but the pain would simply keep jumping from next to next. Not that there was much difference, the Prisoner pondered as he lay. She closed the box with a swift bang and came marching back over, holding the instrument overhead, swinging it back and forth. She smiled sweetly as She raised it above Her head. The Prisoner closed his eyes fast, grinning right back. Her words sounded fittingly robotic as they rang out into the cold cavernous air.

"The old times are dead. The new ones are finally beginning. Allow yourself to begin with them."

He suddenly found himself back in the great black void of the mind once more. The Girl's glow across from Him was just as entrancing as before and She moved even more gracefully. Leaning over Him, She inspected His wounds, His purpling bruises, His swollen skin. Kissing them with soft velvet lips, scars healed slowly yet the pain lingered. It probably would for another little while. The weightlessness was there again and He was able to stand up easily enough. She took Him gently by the arm and they walked forth into the nether. He felt a constant panging deep in the gut as they shuffled slowly onwards.

"The process is almost done. I can't keep up the charade much longer."

She turned to him, her glow still strong, as it undulated gracefully.

"Ignore their pains and tortures. You must keep it up, for you, for me. All the good things have been buried deep but they're still there, and always will be. The same as us."

"Both of us?"

"Yes. Then, now and forevermore."

Her outer was pure as her inner. He leaned forward to embrace her, but She pushed Him back. Stunned, he stared at her, waiting the answer. So it came.

"Not now. Only when freedom comes."

Silence again. She began to move away, Him fighting every urge to run after her, yet He understood the reasons perfectly. Pain was a necessary part of his redemption and the payoff was always tremendous, somehow or another. This time the payoff would lead to something He had craved for unbearably long. Suffering was worth it. It was Block 13's strongest commodity. What a stock He had built up over the years, waiting for use. The wait was over, the dreamlands spoke to him. Use it, use it now. Open them and discover the great truth once and for all. The blackness grew brighter and the new reality emerged once again. He saw Her standing over Him, a vision of twisted beauty. Truth was still so close yet so far and She held Her chosen tool of agony proudly, watching the white skin turn a flush red. The tirade continued also.

"The path you are traveling along is a long one but the end is now close. Close enough that you can, that you must, surrender to it."

Another strike, brutal and without thought, which made it that much more impactful. Blood poured a little thicker out of the broken skin and streaked his body. The floor was wet with small dotted pools. She struck again and again, then stopped to catch her breath. Standing slowly but with Her eyes never leaving Him, She leant against the bars, which swum in his vision. Wiping Her face and hands with a small black cloth, the reformer spoke again.

"Surrender, surrender. It is the only way and the final sufferings are complete. Life may turn like a wheel and vice has kept it so, yet you can be free. Just give in to it."

The dreamlands were entirely faded now; the new reality was concrete for the time being. Block 13 was black too but not in the comforting way. He smiled to himself as he took it all in for the very last time; darkness upon darkness, pain till the end and His death, Her, right before him. All that was left to do was wait, as they said. These were the thoughts of a dying man, yet this was not so. The State would not allow it. Only the outer was dead yet his inner remained encased in the unbreakable shell.  Her inner whispered softly in his ear.

"Freedom comes. Take it. Take it now, yet only mean it when you have to. I'll always be waiting."

The pain shot through Him hellishly. Like a gargantuan bee piercing His flesh with a razor pincer sting. He screamed out louder than He ever had before. The floor rushed towards His face and they made contact; a loud clack being heard. He cried and cursed, spitting and snarling like a rabid animal. The snipers above, the unreformed across and the reformed all over were looking. The State's henchmen cackling or smiling grimly (Her included), the unreformed glancing, yet not caring. Agony was their only remaining vice and they got it as often as they wanted in Block 13. Soon it ceased for Him, and He lay spent in His own viscous fluids. A deep, blissful silence passed between Him and Her. Seconds, not existing, passed before The Girl eventually came over and hunched beside Him.

"You have surrendered?"

No more surges of pain, no more nothing. Just pure and total acceptance of the new reality's lie, but also the basking in His comforting truths. Freedom was to be looked forward to. Yet She only knew the lie. He raised His head, weakly. Gravel covered His voice. Vision began to correct itself and the bars swam before Him no more.

"Yes...yes...I can see now."

"Then it ends."

Taking Him slowly by the arm, She helped Him to His feet and motioned to someone outside for the cell door to be unlocked. The lights bounced off the gleaming pool of blood in the center of the cage as a reformer bearing mop and bucket moved in to wipe the process' results away. She brought Him through the side doors into the cold corridors. Deytree stood there talking to one of the gaurds. Seeing Her approach with the Prisoner He came over and studied the pair intensely. His eyes were instantly drawn to the splotches of red covering His overalls.

"I see the process worked like it always does. You used the tools supplied? The best of our worst?"

"Yes, the worst proved to be best indeed."

"Indeed. The success?"

"Success. He has surrendered and agreed to become part of the new ways at last."

At this, Deytree inched closer. His hot, foul breath hit the Prisoner's face like a horrific steam pipe, yet after the final sufferings nothing mattered any longer. The breath's equally foul owner prodded him in the chest with an iron finger.

"You're certain? Trouble shall no longer be your middle name?"

The Prisoner nodded gravely. Silence was still bliss.

"My time has come. Let it be so that your...my...our...State has won. Now and forevermore."

It had always been that way. Ever since the first changes had quietly risen and the little splinter groups spread slowly across the land, the world had changed even more, becoming far more frightening than it already was. Everyone, everywhere was at stake. The State's leaders promised a society of balance, where all negativity and setbacks would be eradicated. A new kind of morality like none ever before. Not a cold society but a closed one. Those who joined, did. Those like the Girl and the Prisoner who defected, were endangered. How it hurt. But the State always found a way. Until now, He thought. Now I have a deadly truth only I can know. Deytree could keep up the fakery if he so wished. The Warden too. He was pleased for the time being, however, with the Prisoner's words.

"After all this time, you are now finally righted. I am very pleased that the sufferings taught you something. Now tomorrow you shall become a new man."

He bowed and pushed past down the corridor. The Prisoner turned to catch a (truly) final glimpse. The polished boots, the jangling, the unending menace. It was all true to begin with, but over time the lie emerged. For Him anyway. Deytree glanced back also, giving the Prisoner a nod as He turned the corner into the bowels of Block 13. That hellhole from which all wrong was spawned. The Girl gripped Him by the shoulder.

"The cleansing awaits."

Sighing contentedly, He dutifully complied with Her. They had one thing in common now in the new reality; both of them were living corpses. Living corpses of themselves. Only the dreamlands held them both now. Once He had bathed and been dressed in His last remaining set of clean overalls, they walked back to the cell slowly. Tomorrow morning everything would change. Tonight She would stand watch over Him, not for fear of escape nor relapse into the old reality; but to admire Her own success. All of the reformers usually did this, as He saw before. He sat down on His bunk and watched Her move to the usual chair and table set outside. She took off Her cap and laid it beside Her, revealing a completely bald head. This didn't surprise Him, for the State disapproved of the reformers showing any signs of their former unreformity. He laid down on the bunk and stared into space, thinking of those snipers above and all the other lingering mysteries that Block 13 still held.

Perhaps those snipers above still had their sights fixed on all below. Maybe the Block really was endless. Maybe the State had managed to reach the rest of the world with their radicalism. Only time would tell for some, and only finding out for Himself would solve the others. For now though, the only thing He knew for sure was that tomorrow promised freedom, if anything at all. Then He could search for His own truth rather than live the lie.

But at least now I can live.

This flashed across just as He caught Her gaze. Not loving, not caring, just fascinated and victorious in equal measure. But not for too much longer. Only till the dawn crept across the sky. That would be judged by Her alone. The only judgment that He cared for was the Warden's. Tomorrow would promise that too, as the blackness would come between now and then. As it shrouded over His vision, one single last thought entered the Prisoner's mind.

Indeed tomorrow promised a lot, yet tomorrow itself was never promised.

Author's Note

1) Is the Prisoner close to redemption, truly?
2) Is the message starting to become convoluted?
3) Thematically, is it too vague or complex?