The White Room
The walls surround me. They always do. It's dark-time: when the white light switches off and we are expected to sleep. I see my family in the rooms around me. Three girls. Three boys; including me. They're surrounded by walls too. We don't have a mother or a father or aunts or uncles; only each other. Sometimes I lie in my bed, like I am now, and wonder what their voices sound like. I wonder if they can sing, like I can. Amy says she can, but I don't know. She said she's read Dickens, but we all know she hasn't.
It's a little silly when we lie to each other about stuff like that. Our rooms have clear walls and they all connect to make a circle, so we can always see one another. There are no secrets in our family. What could we keep secret? Even our bathrooms are clear. I never understood why, but the people in the movies treat them so delicately. Powder room, the loo, privy. It's just a bathroom.
But other than that I love the movies. We read about their world and watch the lessons, but that's nothing compared to the movies. I like to think those are my real lessons. Millie and I always talk about them because our repertoire of films is just about the same.
She and Amy live in the rooms next to mine. Millie on the left. Amy on the right. Sean lives on the other side of Amy, then Sam, then Mikey, then Millie, then me. Jack.
I'm the only one that has black hair. We all cut our own hair, and I'm pretty bad at it, but I'm not the worst. That's Amy. I also have blue eyes, but so does Mikey and Sam. Sean's the fittest, but I'm not too bad either. We all have treadmills, and sometimes we do the exercises we see in the movies. Mikey doesn't care. He's the fattest.
I wonder if he gets hungry more often than I do. I probably have a faster metabolism, but we all get the same meals. They come out on a tray from some hidden opening in the wall.
That's one of the few instances that prove the presence of the invisible caretakers. They feed us, turn the white light on and off, tune our televisions to the lessons three times a day, and give us movies, games, books, clothes, pencils and paper. That's our life here. That's all I've known. I don't know if we were born here, who the invisible caretakers are, why our lives are so different from the peoples' in the movies, but I do know one thing.
I’m getting out.
I dream about it, I think about it, I fantasize about it. It’s crazy but I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. I want to live in the movies and walk to the store or go to the kitchen like they do. I want to talk to someone with the voice I use to sing in the shower. I want to use my muscles for more than just drawing the Eiffel Tower or exercising with my family. I want it. I need it.
But for now I'm lying here thinking about Sam.
I told you she has blue eyes, but they're paler than mine. They remind me of winter. Her hair is like fire though. I really like that about her. Millie and Amy are my sisters, but Sam lives across from me. I don't talk to her as often and I like that too. She’s a reader though. Kind of scorns movies, which irritates the hell out of me. She doesn’t see the finesse behind each film. I’m not saying books are bad. Just that movies are better. We get into stupid arguments about it all the time. Sometimes, she gets so worked up she pounds her fists on the wall, like she’s coming to beat some sense into me. It’s a little funny, but a little sad too. I’ve tried to read some of the books she’s told me about, but I usually quit after the first chapter. Some I just quit after the first sentence. It’s just so hard to pay attention.
But I guess I won’t get into it.
I wonder how long it’s been since the white light went out. I could lie here for hours, dreaming and thinking. I get up for some water. We get exactly seven bottles of water each day. We dispose of them in the trash hole. That’s this round hole in the 4U, or what we call the white wall; the only non-clear wall of our four.
I have a little water left from my last bottle and I finish it off. Something catches my eye. I look to my right and see Amy, waving me over. I throw my empty bottle into the trash hole and walk over. I stopped talking to her a few days ago because she kept on teasing me about Sam.
I just happened to take a very brief glance over one time when she was taking a shower. Just one time. We all try not to do that to each other but it happens. Amy of course blew it all out of proportion and started saying that I love Sam. I just get a little tingly that’s all. Anyway, if I loved her (and I’m not saying that I do, not in that sense anyway) what would it mean? We blow each other kisses from behind our walls or imagine what it’s like holding hands? There’s no such thing as a relationship when the two can’t even touch each other. So no, I don’t love Sam. I just…find her interesting that’s all. She’s my family like everyone else. Like Sean. Like Millie. Like Mikey. Like Amy.
I’m in front of Amy now, and I can’t read her face. “You here to apologize?” I say, using our form of sign language.
“No.”
Stubborn as ever. I roll my eyes, and get ready to say good night because I’m stubborn too. But then she shakes her head and holds her hands up, “Wait.” Annoyed, I say, “What do you want?” She sits cross-legged on the floor. “I just wanted to talk.” “Are you going to apologize?” I say. She scowls. “No.”
“Good night.”
I walk back to my bed. I’m about to close my eyes, but I look to my right and see Amy still sitting there, staring at me. I close my eyes. I count an entire minute and open them. She’s still staring. I sigh and sit across from her. “Go to bed,” I say.
“You know I love you, right?”
Umm…I look at her and I still can’t read her face. “Of course I do,” I say, “But you still need to apologize.”
“I’m scared.”
Scared?
“Why?”
She bites her lip. “Because…when I think about being old I can only imagine me here. I’m scared...I’ll never sing for people…for you guys. I'm scared I'll live forever here.” I think for a moment and suddenly have a stupid idea. “Let’s sing right now,” I say. “What?” I give her a small smile.
“Think of a song we know.”
She thinks it’s stupid, but still chooses a song. “’What a Wonderful World’,” she says with a wry smile. I laugh a little, and then I start singing.
“I see trees of green,
Red roses too.
I see them bloom
For me and you.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.”
She’s singing too and I can almost hear her.
“I see skies of blue,
And clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.”
We’re laughing a little, but our smiles are so sad.
“The colors of the rainbow,
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces,
Of people going by,
I see friends shaking hands,
Saying, ‘How do you do?’
They’re really saying,
‘I love you.’”
There are tears in her eyes and I can’t help trying to reach out to her.
“I hear babies cry,
I watch them grow,
They’ll learn much more,
Than I’ll ever know,“
Now the tears are rolling down her face, and I’ve never wanted to hold someone so much in my life.
“And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.
Yes, I think to myself,”
We sing together, bitter, sad, hopeful.
“What a wonderful world.”
I’m in my bed and I cover my eyes with my pillow when the white light comes on. But it’s no use. Even though I’ve only slept for a few hours, I can’t continue sleeping. I get up reluctantly to the sound of the food door swishing open. Today is scrambled eggs with bacon and toast. That means American food today. I drink from my fresh batch of water instead of the milk because I’m kind of a nut about water. I wish they gave us more than just seven bottles.
I go to brush my teeth when I’m done with all the bacon (I always save the best for last) as Millie goes to start her breakfast. She always brushes her teeth first, but I don’t really know why. The food gets cold and the milk leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Anyway, all six of us sit down later for the first lesson of the day, which comes on about an hour after the white light. Amy is sleeping through it.
We all hate it when she does that. It means she won’t get lunch today. I see she didn’t even get breakfast which means she ignored the third lesson yesterday too. What is she trying to do, starve herself?
But as soon as I have that thought I start feeling a little panicky and look over at her room. She’s lying on her bed, but I can’t tell if she’s awake or not. She’s just tired, right? We were up really late last dark-time. And she does this all the time.
I need to talk to Sean. If she really is thinking of starving herself to death, he’ll knock some sense into her. He’s good at that. Both Mikey and I have tried it before, but Mikey couldn’t even last the morning and Sean got to me on the third day. I stare at the television screen but I don’t even know what the lesson’s about. All I can think about is Amy. Finally it’s over and I’ll probably get no lunch because the invisible caretakers can tell when you’re not paying attention. But it doesn’t matter. I rush over to get Sean’s attention. “What is it?” he says, serious. “Amy isn’t trying to starve herself to death, right?” I say, panicked. The others notice what I’m saying and we all look over at Amy. She’s still in bed.
It's a little silly when we lie to each other about stuff like that. Our rooms have clear walls and they all connect to make a circle, so we can always see one another. There are no secrets in our family. What could we keep secret? Even our bathrooms are clear. I never understood why, but the people in the movies treat them so delicately. Powder room, the loo, privy. It's just a bathroom.
But other than that I love the movies. We read about their world and watch the lessons, but that's nothing compared to the movies. I like to think those are my real lessons. Millie and I always talk about them because our repertoire of films is just about the same.
She and Amy live in the rooms next to mine. Millie on the left. Amy on the right. Sean lives on the other side of Amy, then Sam, then Mikey, then Millie, then me. Jack.
I'm the only one that has black hair. We all cut our own hair, and I'm pretty bad at it, but I'm not the worst. That's Amy. I also have blue eyes, but so does Mikey and Sam. Sean's the fittest, but I'm not too bad either. We all have treadmills, and sometimes we do the exercises we see in the movies. Mikey doesn't care. He's the fattest.
I wonder if he gets hungry more often than I do. I probably have a faster metabolism, but we all get the same meals. They come out on a tray from some hidden opening in the wall.
That's one of the few instances that prove the presence of the invisible caretakers. They feed us, turn the white light on and off, tune our televisions to the lessons three times a day, and give us movies, games, books, clothes, pencils and paper. That's our life here. That's all I've known. I don't know if we were born here, who the invisible caretakers are, why our lives are so different from the peoples' in the movies, but I do know one thing.
I’m getting out.
I dream about it, I think about it, I fantasize about it. It’s crazy but I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. I want to live in the movies and walk to the store or go to the kitchen like they do. I want to talk to someone with the voice I use to sing in the shower. I want to use my muscles for more than just drawing the Eiffel Tower or exercising with my family. I want it. I need it.
But for now I'm lying here thinking about Sam.
I told you she has blue eyes, but they're paler than mine. They remind me of winter. Her hair is like fire though. I really like that about her. Millie and Amy are my sisters, but Sam lives across from me. I don't talk to her as often and I like that too. She’s a reader though. Kind of scorns movies, which irritates the hell out of me. She doesn’t see the finesse behind each film. I’m not saying books are bad. Just that movies are better. We get into stupid arguments about it all the time. Sometimes, she gets so worked up she pounds her fists on the wall, like she’s coming to beat some sense into me. It’s a little funny, but a little sad too. I’ve tried to read some of the books she’s told me about, but I usually quit after the first chapter. Some I just quit after the first sentence. It’s just so hard to pay attention.
But I guess I won’t get into it.
I wonder how long it’s been since the white light went out. I could lie here for hours, dreaming and thinking. I get up for some water. We get exactly seven bottles of water each day. We dispose of them in the trash hole. That’s this round hole in the 4U, or what we call the white wall; the only non-clear wall of our four.
I have a little water left from my last bottle and I finish it off. Something catches my eye. I look to my right and see Amy, waving me over. I throw my empty bottle into the trash hole and walk over. I stopped talking to her a few days ago because she kept on teasing me about Sam.
I just happened to take a very brief glance over one time when she was taking a shower. Just one time. We all try not to do that to each other but it happens. Amy of course blew it all out of proportion and started saying that I love Sam. I just get a little tingly that’s all. Anyway, if I loved her (and I’m not saying that I do, not in that sense anyway) what would it mean? We blow each other kisses from behind our walls or imagine what it’s like holding hands? There’s no such thing as a relationship when the two can’t even touch each other. So no, I don’t love Sam. I just…find her interesting that’s all. She’s my family like everyone else. Like Sean. Like Millie. Like Mikey. Like Amy.
I’m in front of Amy now, and I can’t read her face. “You here to apologize?” I say, using our form of sign language.
“No.”
Stubborn as ever. I roll my eyes, and get ready to say good night because I’m stubborn too. But then she shakes her head and holds her hands up, “Wait.” Annoyed, I say, “What do you want?” She sits cross-legged on the floor. “I just wanted to talk.” “Are you going to apologize?” I say. She scowls. “No.”
“Good night.”
I walk back to my bed. I’m about to close my eyes, but I look to my right and see Amy still sitting there, staring at me. I close my eyes. I count an entire minute and open them. She’s still staring. I sigh and sit across from her. “Go to bed,” I say.
“You know I love you, right?”
Umm…I look at her and I still can’t read her face. “Of course I do,” I say, “But you still need to apologize.”
“I’m scared.”
Scared?
“Why?”
She bites her lip. “Because…when I think about being old I can only imagine me here. I’m scared...I’ll never sing for people…for you guys. I'm scared I'll live forever here.” I think for a moment and suddenly have a stupid idea. “Let’s sing right now,” I say. “What?” I give her a small smile.
“Think of a song we know.”
She thinks it’s stupid, but still chooses a song. “’What a Wonderful World’,” she says with a wry smile. I laugh a little, and then I start singing.
“I see trees of green,
Red roses too.
I see them bloom
For me and you.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.”
She’s singing too and I can almost hear her.
“I see skies of blue,
And clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.”
We’re laughing a little, but our smiles are so sad.
“The colors of the rainbow,
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces,
Of people going by,
I see friends shaking hands,
Saying, ‘How do you do?’
They’re really saying,
‘I love you.’”
There are tears in her eyes and I can’t help trying to reach out to her.
“I hear babies cry,
I watch them grow,
They’ll learn much more,
Than I’ll ever know,“
Now the tears are rolling down her face, and I’ve never wanted to hold someone so much in my life.
“And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.
Yes, I think to myself,”
We sing together, bitter, sad, hopeful.
“What a wonderful world.”
I’m in my bed and I cover my eyes with my pillow when the white light comes on. But it’s no use. Even though I’ve only slept for a few hours, I can’t continue sleeping. I get up reluctantly to the sound of the food door swishing open. Today is scrambled eggs with bacon and toast. That means American food today. I drink from my fresh batch of water instead of the milk because I’m kind of a nut about water. I wish they gave us more than just seven bottles.
I go to brush my teeth when I’m done with all the bacon (I always save the best for last) as Millie goes to start her breakfast. She always brushes her teeth first, but I don’t really know why. The food gets cold and the milk leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Anyway, all six of us sit down later for the first lesson of the day, which comes on about an hour after the white light. Amy is sleeping through it.
We all hate it when she does that. It means she won’t get lunch today. I see she didn’t even get breakfast which means she ignored the third lesson yesterday too. What is she trying to do, starve herself?
But as soon as I have that thought I start feeling a little panicky and look over at her room. She’s lying on her bed, but I can’t tell if she’s awake or not. She’s just tired, right? We were up really late last dark-time. And she does this all the time.
I need to talk to Sean. If she really is thinking of starving herself to death, he’ll knock some sense into her. He’s good at that. Both Mikey and I have tried it before, but Mikey couldn’t even last the morning and Sean got to me on the third day. I stare at the television screen but I don’t even know what the lesson’s about. All I can think about is Amy. Finally it’s over and I’ll probably get no lunch because the invisible caretakers can tell when you’re not paying attention. But it doesn’t matter. I rush over to get Sean’s attention. “What is it?” he says, serious. “Amy isn’t trying to starve herself to death, right?” I say, panicked. The others notice what I’m saying and we all look over at Amy. She’s still in bed.