The new Earth is a motionless planet that is nearly incapable of sustaining life, devastated by disease, nuclear warfare, geological and electromagnetic alteration or obstruction, and a major subtraction of natural resources, and as a result, the hu...
I am profoundly flummoxed by the sudden appearance of the curtain of heavy darkness, but I do not attempt to push myself away from the metallic wall against which I lean uncomfortably, for the pain is far too intense—my only option is to simply wait for the torment induced by my nervous system sending signals to my brain to inform it of new injuries to abate enough for me to move.
After a long moment, the intimidating gurgle of the floodwater reaches my ears, and I realize that it is emanating from just several feet away and is approaching gradually, though not at all slowly. Suddenly, I make a rather unusual realization—I should be capable of glimpsing the illuminating flames through the periphery of my field of vision, yet I am still staring into complete blackness—I position my fingers less than an inch in front of my eyes, but although they are at such a minuscule distance, I am incapable of making their silhouetted outline, for they are fully camouflaged with the absolute negation of the only visible category of electromagnetic waves on the spectrum. Obviously, my eyesight couldn't have been affected by the blow to my head to such an extent that I am now blind, so perhaps the door to the room into which I fell slammed shut and something extinguished the flames atop the surface of the rising water.
After another few seconds, the increasingly frightening trickle of the flowing floodwater is just inches away from me, and then it unanticipatedly ceases to approach. Immediately, a sense of confusion washes over me, as by now I should feel the water lapping at my ankles, but I do not, which I find quite strange.
Several minutes pass before the heaviness of the pain begins to slowly leach out of my bloodstream as if it is liquid silicon, and I summon up the strength to push myself away from the wall against which I have been hurled. However, I only make it a handful of inches before I am halted by a wall of the same adamantine material that ultimately inhibits the continuation of my exertion. I lean backward, and I brush against an identical wall consisting of cool metal that is undisturbed by any bumps or ridges—though obscured by an object consisting of a different material—and it is the same result when I fully extend my arm, the tips of my fingers making contact with the substance of which all four of the smooth walls consist. I position myself properly and exert as much force as I can on the floor, which coincidentally consists of the same virtually impenetrable medium, but my head slams into another surface. I am completely surrounded by hard metallic surfaces, and I realize that I am trapped in an extremely confined enclosure that reminds me of the interior of a locker—I have potentially fallen into a storage locker large enough for me to fit inside and its door slammed shut, trapping me in its claustrophobic confines. I do not harbor this phobia within my mind, but such a tight space sends anxiety crawling down my spine like an armload of poisonous spiders, twisting my stomach into a knot.
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I draw my leg back as far as I can in the extremely restricted space and slam the heel of my foot into the door with all the strength that I can muster, but there is barely even any give to the practically unconquerable metal. I kick it several more times without making any progress at all, and then I ram my right shoulder into the door with my full weight in an attempt to break it open more efficiently. Unfortunately and expectedly, this does not work, either.
