The Cage - Chapter Eight

Everything seemed normal for the first few seconds of consciousness. Maria lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a smile still on her face from the night before. She slowly sat up and looked to the side, trying to focus on the wall. Except there was no wall.

The wall that had separated that women’s sleeping quarters from the man’s sleeping quarters had disappeared. She now saw the three beds in the men’s quarters, each with one or two men sleeping in it. She closed her eyes and opened them again widely, but the wall was still gone.

She stood up and walked to the bathroom, but there was no longer a door. She rubbed her eyes and pinched herself, thinking she must be in a dream, but she was not. She walked over into the men’s sleeping quarters, but their bathroom had no door on it either.

She quietly stepped out into the living quarters, only to find the main bathroom doors had been removed as well. Maria rubbed her eyes and turned around, looking to see if anyone else was awake, but she saw no movements and heard no noises.

She walked into the bathroom and cringed before sitting on the toilet.

“Oh shoot, sorry!” was Harry’s voice. Maria looked up to see him walking out of the bathroom.

“Not closing doors anymore?” he said from outside.

“Do you see any doors, Harry?”

“Well, uhhh, nope. Where’d they go?” he said, stepping into the bathroom doorway.

“I don’t know,” Maria said, “and do you mind?”

He looked at her. “What? Oh, right, sorry,” he said, walking away.

“Where’s the bathroom doors?” asked George, peering into the bathroom.

“Would you please?” Maria snapped irately.

A few minutes later, Maria came out and sat on the couch in the living quarters, where all eleven of them were now. She couldn’t make eye contact with Harry or George for at least thirty minutes.

“What’s going on?” asked Alan. “Doors and walls are disappearing. How is it that none of us were woken up by this?”

“It’s the drugs,” George said. “I’m sure of it. You know, the drugs I said were in the food. Probably makes us excessively heavy sleepers. Conks us out good at night. And you guys thought I was just crazy.”

“I still think you’re just crazy,” said Jendy.

“Well how else would you explain it?”

Nobody else could.

“Well,” Alan said, “it’s obvious we’re going to have some privacy issues here.” He went to the utility closet and found a hammer and some nails, and made some makeshift bathroom doors using towels, which calmed everyone’s fears of going to the bathroom.

Over the next few days, more things started changing or disappearing. The toilets clogged up and stopped working altogether. The makeshift towel doors disappeared. The shower curtains disappeared. All towels, blankets, bed sheets, and all such things were gone, even the blanket covering Seth’s decaying body.

One day, they all woke up in different beds than they fell asleep in. Screams erupted from their throats when they awoke next to a face of the opposite gender that they would have never wanted in their bed. One day, the beds themselves were different in the morning. The large, soft, king-sized beds were replaced with hard, uncomfortable double beds. Jendy especially threw a fit about this.

The food became less and less desirable and recognizable. Clumps of something that they couldn’t determine exactly what it was, and it never agreed too well with the taste buds. One day there was no food at all, not for breakfast or lunch or supper. The following morning’s breakfast was some of the best tasting unrecognizable food they’d ever had. That day’s lunch was sirloin steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and steaming hot vegetables. The supper that night was grits.

It was late at night, and Jendy had had enough.

“I smell worse than the food we eat!” she complained. None of them had taken a shower in a few days, with no shower curtains, no towels, and no doors to give them privacy.

“Everyone stay in here, okay?” she said, eyeing the men. “No peeking!” The men nodded.

“Don’t worry, Jendy,” Sally said. “We’ll make sure they stay put.”

Jendy walked into the women’s bathroom, peering into the sleeping quarters, nervously looking to see if anyone else was there. Nobody was. She turned on the water, undressed and stepped into the shower. With no shower curtain, the water splashed off her body and onto the floors and walls of the bathroom. She washed off her skin and shampooed her hair. As she rinsed her hair, the water’s feel changed. It felt thicker and had a distinct odor. Jendy stepped back, rubbed the water off her eyes and opened them to see the color had also changed. The water was now a dark brown color, and it appeared to be staining her skin. She screamed, panicked, and ran out into the living quarters.

“The shower water is dirty brown!”

Everyone else stared at her.

“And it smells and stains and—”

Jendy stopped, looking down, and remembered she was still naked. She gasped, quickly running back into the sleeping quarters to get dressed.

Harry smiled. “Oh man,” he said, glancing at George. “Well that made my day.”

Sally leaned over and punched him in the arm.

“Ouch!”

“You men are such perverts.”

A crackling noise came from the speakers near the observation room, where Mr. Boss was sitting in his wheelchair.

“Good day, everyone,” he said cheerfully. “This time, I can hear you,” he said, pointing to a microphone on the outside of the window.

“Good, cause we have some things we want to say to you!” blurted Harry.

“I’m sure you do,” the old man said. “And now is your chance. Oh, hello there Miss Vorshank.” Jendy walked out of the sleeping quarters. “Back to clothes again, are we?” he said, chuckling. Jendy blushed.

“Mr. Boss, what is the meaning of all this?” Alan said. “Why are we trapped down here? And why do things keep changing?”

“What, can’t an old man have some fun?” he said, sporting a sly grin.

“This isn’t right! You can’t have your fun at the expense of others, especially like this! You’re treating us like dogs!” said Sally.

“Why not? There are billions of people in this world, who’ll miss a dozen or so?”

“Our families and friends! Are you going to keep us down here forever?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, take your time,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Oh I will, my little tunnel rat.”

Harry scowled at him.

“Speaking of rats, here’s a little story for you. When I was younger, I wanted a rat. Well, actually, I wanted to have several rats. I found them to be fascinating creatures. My mother never allowed me to have one, let alone twelve. But this is where you come along. As I became older, it only made sense to me to desire a den not of rats, but of more complicated creatures. Why not with the world’s most complex being? You are my little rat den.”

At first, no one responded. Everyone’s face was covered with shock and confusion. Harry’s voice broke the silence.

“What are you, mental?”

“I would not expect one of the rats to understand the master,” he said.

“But we’re not rats!” Harry yelled, standing up and approaching the glass and banging on it with his fists.

“Oh, but you are,” Mr. Boss said. “You’re both dirty, fed with bad tasting food, and are kept in a cage, unable to get out.”

“Can’t you see we’re more than just animals?” said Alan.

“You’re all one of God’s creatures, pastor. I’m sure you know that both rats and man were made on the sixth day. What makes you any better than a rodent?”

“What makes you better than us, that you can be our master?”

“Well you see, I am out here, and you are in there. Survival of the fittest. I, being in control, am more fit than any of you rats.”

“How are you going to explain this to the police?”

“The police?” he said, laughing. “I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“This is kidnapping! There are laws against this type of thing! Not to mention the indecent living conditions!”

“Oh, I see. You think you’re being treated unfairly.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Don’t you think we’re being treated unfairly? Look at everything we’ve been through! Some of us lived in human waste for a few days! And one of us is dead!”

“Suicide is not a crime that can be charged to someone who is still alive,” he said. “Did you not read the contract?”

Nobody said a word.

“I see,” Mr. Boss said, pulling out a stack of papers stapled together.

“Third pages, third paragraph,” he said, and he started reading.

“I, the undersigned, grant permission to be trapped in the room for up to a period of a month for this study. I understand that the living conditions in the room may change, and may not be favorable. I surrender my right to file charges or complaints for any conditions I consider to be unsatisfactory. I also understand that the company is not responsible for any injuries or death related to this study; thus, they can not be charged in a criminal or civil court for any such incidents. I understand the company is under no obligation to improve the living conditions in the room, and I understand that there is risk involved in this study.”

Mr. Boss smiled. No one else moved. “I know that none of you went to law school or ever even showed any interest in the realm of law. I wouldn’t have chosen you for this if you had. But common sense says to read every contract you sign, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t you have a heart?” said Alan. “Can’t you see that we are people, with feelings, with spouses, and children?”

“I see that. But I also see large dollar signs.”

And with that, he left.