• Time had been forgotten. There were no clocks or watches; no seconds or minutes; no hours or days; no months or years. What were seconds seemed like minutes, what were minutes seemed like hours, what were hours seemed like days, what were days seemed like months, and what were months seemed like years, and what were years seemed like eternity. There was no way to tell how much precious time you had spent here.

    Time. What is time? No one can seem to recall. It gets that way for everyone here. We have nothing but a small cellar. I was one of the lucky ones; in my cellar I have a small crack in which I can see the outside world through. I could breath fresh air, see the fresh dirt, feel the occasional slight breeze. This was my glimmer of hope, my source of entertainment, my hobby, my pastime, my life; my everything. Whenever the megalomaniac androids would pass by my cell, I would always cover the crack with superfluous cloth, for if they found out, they might seal it up; all my connections to the outside world with it. Gone. Vanished. My hope, my life, my sanity: gone.

    This is my life here. I start to count the days I’ve been away from the life I used to know so well, the life I used to not appreciate until now. I start to count the days I’ve been away from my loved ones, the ones whose faces seem like a blur; so close, yet so far. The loved ones I’ve been segregated from, the ones that I miss, the ones I yearn to just hold in my arms and never let go. That reassurance would be enough for anyone here to last years. Or was it months?
    People who stay here eventually become lunacies; people who stay here too long tend to slowly loose their fortitude, conviviality, as well as their personalities. When you’re here, your originality, your reason, your wisdom and sophistication slowly wears away to the point of insanity. When you’re here, you eventually forget everything. Everything you long for, you yearn for; everything you held dear, everything you were looking forward to with anticipation. Everything that was important to you, everything you want, what you need. Everything you hate, what you despise.

    When you’re here, you’re blood runs cold, and you loose your sense of touch. When you’re here, you loose the warmth and color of your skin. When you’re here, you forget what your loved ones look like, or even who they were. You forget feelings and emotions altogether. You forget how to socialize, to correspond, to touch, to love, to care, and even hate. When you’re here you become a specter. When you’re here, you even forget who you yourself are. When you’re here, you’re in hell.