Only by shaking and pounding the lettered glass door did I gain entrance to fluorescent lighted room with picture frame windows holding the silhouetted buildings with twinkling sparkles.
Then escorted by the hospital blue clad clerk down the tunnel-like hallway from which the experiment rooms branched.
This room will be yours for the night - but would it be just the night or would one night transition into a day, a week, a lifetime or perhaps the night would slowly pass seeming as a lifetime.
How do the unknown decisionmakers pick the mustard wall and then not include pickles or ketchup, but instead pretend that the Monet print of Water Lilies will spice the room and substitute for a window on the windowless four walls.
One unshaded flood directly over the bed illuminates the room in a most uncomfortable manner evoking pictures of mental tortures and resulting breakdowns.
Will the light shine throughout the night or will it be doused to create a coal black coffin darkness making me a blind man with sight.
How could I have missed the two black ceiling spheres - one a spotlight for the experimental interrogation that will come and one for a camera that will record the turns and convulsions, the repeated minature suffocations that will take place before I am allowed to escape into a world of peaceful sleep.
How long will I be allowed to suffer before I am allowed to escape?
How long?
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