This Thing A Quiet Madness Made

Chapter 34

Unknown lay on a little white bed in a little white room. Near the bed was a little white chair in front of a little white table next to the wall. Just like the walls, the door was white too, and next to it was a little window leading somewhere else, somewhere she couldn't go. In the little white corner of the ceiling, sitting above the little window, was a little black security camera, and a little red light that blinked at her all day and all night.

Unknown sat underneath the peeping camera. She leaned back against the corner, arms folded loosely over her lap, legs stretched out in front of her. Her eyes were glazed over as they followed her bare feet, swaying rhythmically from side to side. She hummed a soft tune, one she had never heard before.

The room was dark. It must have been nighttime, but what did it matter? In here, there was no moon or sky or stars, only dim gray. There was no evening chill: it was always the same temperature in here. There was no breeze, no crickets chirping, no lamplight, nothing at all. So what if it was nighttime? Nighttime meant nothing to her, just as much nothing as daytime.

It didn't matter, not in here.

In here, it was whatever she wanted it to be.

Dreams always came easy to Unknown, especially when she was younger. She liked to imagine herself somewhere far away: an old house in the countryside, a cave in the high mountains, a little apartment in the city center. Anywhere would have been nice. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes the others were there with her. Amnestica, Traceback, Horus, and the little girl too, they would be together, carefree, living somewhere the bad things couldn't reach. They could eat what they liked, wear nice clothes, and go outside just to feel the breeze. Their home was warm and peaceful, loud with laughter and serene silence, and nothing bad ever happened there.

Sometimes she dreamed she was quirkless. When she tried to activate her quirk, nothing would happen; sometimes she would completely forget how to use it at all. She lived a regular life, went to school, had good friends, returned home to a mother and father, and maybe even cried over a few boys. She would grow up and get an office job, a boring little routine with nothing much to look forward to, then return home to the cheap apartment she had rented, just somewhere to sleep until she saved up enough to buy a house of her own. No one ever looked at her twice, no one thought she was special: just another face in the passing crowd. Maybe she would find someone who thought she was nice enough to marry, and then they would grow old together. Most of the time though, she would live and die alone, a mundane nobody the world would quickly forget.

Oh, how wonderful those dreams were.

Unknown always woke up eventually, and she could never remember her dreams for very long. A few would return to her, playing out the same way every now and again, and she would remember those for a bit, but they soon faded like all the rest. She really wished they would stay. They were quite nice.

"Maybe so, but they don't suit you."

Unknown's glassy eyes trailed slowly upwards.

Across the room, through the darkness, there was a figure sitting in the little white chair, and he was looking right at her.

"...oh. I'm going crazy," she whispered. She tried to blink away the figure, but it didn't work.

"You don't look so well, Unknown. Why are you crying? I haven't seen you cry since you were a baby," the Manager smiled warmly at her. He was perched neatly in the chair, his familiar gaze angled down at her.

"I'm not crying... am I?"

She touched her cheek, puzzled, and found it dry.

"You just look a little sad. That's all."