Programmed: Raine's Story

.08

The days fall into a spell of monotony. The sun finds herself on the rise and fall each day with no changes but the different hues of magical colors that seemed to occupy not only the sky but my thoughts as well. It has been two weeks since I've left this cage of a room. Fourteen days stretching far and thin. Is this just the beginning to my promised punishment?

"Miss Raine," Eleanor, the blonde servant, is quiet as she enters the room. Her voice, same pitch as yesterday and the day before and before, awakens me from my buried thoughts. "Your breakfast. An assortment of fresh fruits and eggs." She lays the silvered tray on the table resting up against the large window. I refuse to leave my safe burrow. I make eye contact with her as she nears the door and offer thanks with the nod of my chin. The door clicks locked as she leaves and I'm eager for the day to end. I look at the window and note the suns position close to the blue crisp sea. I realize it's still just the morning. This will be yet another long day.

I allow myself five more minutes to lounge before I pull myself up and drag myself towards the platter that so patiently awaits me.

"Another day, and another fancy meal." Am I really talking to myself? This is what it's come to? All in only two weeks? I roll my eyes at myself.

I pull the leafy stems off the red berries and pop them into my mouth. The juices are sweet and satisfying. At least my punishment allows delights as such. I eye the eggs as I poke them with my fork. I would have been ecstatic to have a meal like this every day back home, yet here I am dreading the thought of eating more than what I can muster.

Maybe that will get Atlas' attention. Maybe I'll stop eating.

"No. No, no that'd be pointless." I almost laugh at myself for talking aloud once more. I suppose, though, that one must keep ones own company.

I peer out of the window as I dance my fork in and through my breakfast. I must be four or five stories up. I see heads of workers bopping below in the gardens. I wonder if they're programs as well. I imagine waves of slow heat wandering the outsides now and I feel bad as I know the inevitable distress that follows each of those working individuals.

I'm distracted by thoughts of the servants who I observe from up above. I wonder what led them here? What could they have done to have deserved the life they have been given? All is quiet and still in the room until I hear a solid knock from the door. I immediately arise from the stool I've found myself content on. A knock isn't part of the daily agenda I'm becoming so used to.

I begin towards the door with hesitation and uncertainty. Please don't be Mr. Heartland.

My fingers curl firmly around the cold knob and I begin to turn it cautiously. It stops and I realize it is still locked. Weird. I almost walk away back towards the window when I am greeted by a cream letter that's been sent from underneath the door.

I pick it up and begin to analyze it. The paper is thick and strong. I trace my fingers along the crisp edge as I begin to unfold the envelope.

Raine, I hope this letter brings you hope as oppose to fear. I hope to be more a man who can help than the useless corpse I've been destined to become. It did not work for me, and inevitably it will not work for you. If it comes down to that, of course. We'll chat soon. Best regards and much luck to you.

The bottom of the letter is signed with a cursive X and a detailed symbol of a sun. It's not familiar at all, but I admire the beauty of it.

I stand there still for a moment gripping helplessly onto the weighted words that are so neatly written. I reread the writing over and over again hoping for much needed clarification and depth of meaning. Was this man meant to be programmed and it somehow did not work? Could this be the meaning of his vague words? I take the letter and neatly tuck it in between the mattress and the bronze bed frame. Safe and sound.