I have written a bit in the past 4 days, but im going through some touch writers blocks and I need some ideas for bridging what I have, with what I want. I do not want to change the ending, I want it to be the same.
Here's what I have so far:
I wake up with blaring lights. I can't see anything, I roll over, back to the ground. My eyes begin to adjust. Im enclosed within a small room in the shape of a cube. I sit around in wonder and awe, because of the perfection of the room. Not a blemish or a stain. Nothing is out of place except for me, as if the room was not meant for my existence. My head and hands and tingling.
As I look around. There’s a sink. My clothes are simple. White long-sleeve, white pants, white casual shoes. Everything fits me right. I get up off of the floor and next to the faucet, revealing itself out of the wall, is a dispenser, squirting two drops, of what I believe is soap. I scrape the goo off of the sink and onto my hands. It smells like soap. As I rub the substance within my hands, it seems to grow. Bubbles seem to appear, and the substance is multiplying within my hands. I panic and quickly wash off the unknown “soap”, and it runs down the drain.
I continue to scan the room. A bed, about a foot and a half off of the ground, legless, protruding from the wall, a couple of cabinets, an air vent, and various unique cracks down the wall. I sit on the bed. The material seems fake, yet familiar. The bed is uncomfortable, but I lay down anyway, trying to trace back my steps to how I got here. The last thing that I can remember is lunch. A box of Tony’s pizza, chocolate milk, and a small carton of orange juice. Friends. Laughter. Black. I have no recall of anything that happened from then to now. I need to find out.
I inspect cracks in the walls. About a centimeter deep and a few millimeters wide, enough to fit your nails. I look at my hands, my nails are perfectly grown out and cut, like a model. I've always bite my nails, I’ve never had such beautiful hands. The walls are full of cracks that make up different unproportional rectangles and a few circles, meaningless to me. I sit back down on the bed, trying to find a picture in the cracks, but I find nothing.
I’ve been inspecting the room for a solid ten minutes, and there is nothing. Only the essentials, no phones, not even a GameBoy. I get taken over by boredom. I slam my fist into the wall. Extreme pain enters my hand. The wall is left without a blemish. This enrages me, I dig my nails into the cracks and pull, the tile seems to be static. “Get me out of here!”. Nothing. I begin kicking at individual tiles, trying to do something, make something, get out. I jump on the bed, it doesn't move, I don't bounce. I'm exhausting myself.
I sit back on the bed, bored out of my mind, i’ve yelled, i’ve screamed there is nothing that I can do that will get me out. I’ve been in here for what seems to be 2 days. A slot opens to the left of the sink, along with what seems to be a seat from the ground. A tray of simple food is ejected from the wall. I jump out of bed. The slot in the wall smoothly closes, leaving the table and the chair in the ground. I stare at the tray. Tony’s pizza, chocolate milk, and a small carton of orange juice along with a piece of paper. A single line. It seems I haven't really felt hungry the time that I’ve been in here, yet now. Now i'm starving out of my mind, I open the pizza box, and begin indulging in the cheesy saucer. The chocolate milk tastes better than usual, too. Before I can begin to drink the orange juice I look at the wall. This table and chair came from the room, from the cracks. Each crack must have it's own unique use. I finish chewing my pizza and open my orange juice while inspecting the table. I try to push it in, putting my a bit of my weight into it. After a certain threshold, the table gets sucked into the wall, back to the cracks. The seat seems to follow seconds later. I hit the floor, and I feel a slight movement after the seat stops, a mechanism. Back to the bed, I must find a way to escape this sort of, prison. I have no memory of the outside world, or of how I got here.
I begin to explore the cabinets, which I haven’t yet thought about. Six doors, each door opens half of a section. I open all the doors, which are hinged all up and down the corners. The cabinets are empty. Above the cabinets is an air vent. I begin to attempt to open it. No movement. It's stuck, but there is a slight noise coming from within. The room is alive. The sounds of banging, whistles, exhaust. I begin to separate the slats, which is very difficult when you have one hand on the cabinets. I get down off of the cabinets and reposition myself to have full access over the vent. I begin to use both hands, prying and bending. I clear a large enough hole to get my hand through. I reach around, dust. The only form of uncleanliness i’ve experienced since...before. I keep moving my hand around, nothing but dust. No levers or switches, only 3 walls, which implies the vent goes somewhere. The noises haven’t stopped, they continue buzzing and screaming, like an old automobile. I pry the open as much as I can, now I can see a faint light down the vent. This captivates me. I begin to search for anything. With a larger hole, I can reach farther. I reach as far as I can. I feel something. A screw. Screws. I reach around the vent opening for screws. I feel four, on each corner. My nails are the perfect length to rotate them. I unscrew 3 of the screws and the vent comes right off. There is barely enough space for my body. I peek my head in, through the vent. I see another corner of the vent, a very yellow dim light is cast upon it. I try to push myself up into the vent. My weight is centered on the cabinets, and they snap off the wall, sending me on a one way trip to the floor. Black.
I wake back up in my bed. I look around the room. The vent is closed, my clothes are the same, and have no scuffs from the fall. The food slot opens again, along with the table and seat. A tray is ejected. Tony’s pizza, chocolate milk, and a small carton of orange juice along with a piece of paper. Two lines.
Plot twist, the entire story is a computer simulation, therefore, it impossible for me to escape, and i'm eternally trapped within a simulated world. This depresses me. I realize that my whole life is not what it seems, and I try to kill myself, but because the computer has full control, I can't die. Within my boredom, I explore around outside the room and manage to find a flaw in the system, where a lock was found (purposefully) unlocked, as I begin to remember my skills in computers I exploit the flaw, Spectre, and gain control of the “system”. This power grants me the ability to create or design anything anywhere, so i'm basically (a) God.