Chained Soul – Part Twenty-Three
Welcome back to Chained Soul, my new serialised novel that I’m releasing right here on my blog, as well as on Tapas and Wattpad. Quick warning: this series does contain strong language, so if that’s not your thing, you’re free to skip this one!
Check out Part One, including a synopsis for the whole series, here!
If you missed Part Twenty-Two, you can read that here!
Day Twenty-ThreeI know I can’t remember much of my life, so this statement probably doesn’t mean as much as it could do if I did have all my memories, but never in a million fucking years did I think that right now, I would be considering a digital detox in a weird prison-facility-cell-thing where I was locked away from the rest of world.
Seriously, it sounds like the stupidest thing ever. But I don’t think getting all of these emails is doing me any good, and I can’t even reply to them anyway. The sound of every notification is making me feel like one of them Pavlov dogs, salivating at the ring of a bell, and I can’t stand it. They’re just training me to be addicted to mostly garbled and nonsensical but viscerally angry messages from the outside world.
And what if they’re not actually from real people?
I’ve been thinking about that a bit today, to be honest. This might all be part of the treatment. Exposing me to the hate of supposed people from the outside world so that I buck up my ideas and act better. It could be some sort of weird psychology thing to make me want to be treated and be ‘better’ so that people don’t hate me.
I do want to stress, once again, that I think I’d be a lot more fucking receptive to their treatment if they told me what I was being treated for. Or if I remembered. Either would be great.
But anyway, that’s one of my current theories. They’re just inventing more and more nonsensical emails and sending them into my inbox, and I can’t reply because there’s no one to fucking reply to. There’s just some random staff member on the other end of the computer, or even a bunch of code from some AI thing. I wouldn’t put it past them.
Still, it’s so hard not to react to the notifications. Even if they’re not real, they’re something, just like Helen. I can’t do anything here. If I was an artsy person, maybe I could draw pictures or write angsty poetry or something. But I’m not. I just look at the paper, spill out my current thoughts in a huge mess, and then move on to the next day. I sleep, eat, write, then sleep again, with occasional trips to the barebones bog. My uniform is getting sweaty again but there’s no replacement in sight. My salt has vanished. I don’t know if Helen’s real and I don’t know if I want to hear the true answer to that problem.
Everything is somehow going even more tits-up than it already had been. You’d think that I hit rock bottom when they threw me in here, but the universe is still messing with me. All of the treatment bullshit and the weird pills and the psychologist visits are just wearing me down further and further. That’s probably what they want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m absolutely miserable, sitting here trying to deal with everything that they put onto me.
And there’s also the fear that one day, they’ll just forget about me. They’ll lose their funding or something, and all the staff and guards will just not show up to work one day, and they’ll leave me to rot with a cell neighbour who equally might be real or imaginary. Ain’t that a fucking depressing thought?
So yeah, today I might not look at the emails. There hasn’t been a notification yet, not since I woke up, but I haven’t eaten yet so the day can’t be too far along. I’m sure there’ll be at least one. There’s usually a landslide of them after I’ve eaten, pinging right up until I fall asleep, and sometimes I hear them in my dreams too. Ping, ping, ping, and another ping, then I wake up and there’s a little bit of peace, before another barrage comes in.
Ah – there was one. I knew it. Just one, a solitary ping, but I heard it, and my brain is moving towards the computer even though I’m keeping my body still. It’s such a fucking weird sensation, like I’m being split in two, but I’m determined not to move. I have to train this out of myself.
It’s just a digital detox, after all. And nearly every person who’s ever been on social media has tried one of those. They must all last for at least the first day – or even the first notification – right?
Notification Regarding E-Mail Privilege
Dear Patient 0619,
We have noticed a lack of activity being reported from your computer, which, as you know, is your method of communication with the outside world through your E-Mail privilege.
It’s important for you to remember that participating in your privileges is a crucial part of your treatment here. As well as attending group activity sessions, co-operating with your food schedule, and generally upholding a good standard of behaviour, you should also be regularly checking your computer.
E-Mails are not just a luxury that have been given to you. They are a necessary part of your treatment plan, which involves gradual increased exposure to the outside world. You are being monitored based on your reactions and ability to process emotions related to interactions with others. E-Mails are a safe and remote way to do this, which is why you have been granted this privilege, as well as for the recreational benefit of communication with a wide range of different people from different backgrounds.
If you persist in ignoring this privilege, then it will be taken away from you. The facility considers every privilege carefully, and they will be removed from patients who do not make full use of them and properly engage with their treatment plans.
If you are having technical difficulties with your computer, then you must bring this to the attention of a staff member as soon as possible. There may be a necessary period of seclusion while your device is checked for issues and potentially repaired or replaced.
Otherwise, you are expected to continue using your computer regularly and checking your communication from the outside world promptly. Furthermore, any attempts to alter, break, or otherwise destroy your computer will cause it to be immediately removed from your possession, and other privileges may also be stopped.
Fucking hell, they’re worse than bloody helicopter parents.
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