Gotta Assassinate Dungeon

 

The Room is a Dungeon

I woke up to the punishment of cramping cold. My bed is dirty, and I have been feasted on by pests and rodents. Realizing my nakedness and no blanket to cover up, I feel vulnerable. My immediate thought is: who has captured me? 


I quickly scan the room. No window. No dunny. No nothing. Just a solitary light, behind its wire cage, simultaneously emitting and trapping a spectrum of transformative light.



I try to account for my lost time. Without any means of measurement, I must endure until an opportunity presents itself. This is a temporal experience. 



I focus on apprehending my fears as a single event in time. I must trust my perceptions to escape.



The roof and walls are cold.  I experience the architect’s subliminal message. I know his place. It is I who dwell inside of his fear. What shall be done must be done. This revolving state cannot withstand my driving force.



When my rotation is complete, four lives will enter into my cell of death. The medieval studded door is the weakness of this fortress. This door will open. I will my escape.



This Fortress 
This Door
This Weakness



My mind is somewhere between fight and flight, as I search into the horizon for my future self. 



I’m standing within a grid, a translucence matrix of blood-red that alters with every iteration of thought. Each stain tells a story of pain and torture. I know I must fight then flee, and my darkness within is the path I must take.


Transverse Fight then Flight

I am contained within this inverted panopticon. My consciousness is hidden behind a societal parable. For centuries I have been receptively owned. Now casted into an actual person I must respond. I am not the sacrifice. I am the weapon. The architect has left subliminal messages. They are imprinted into the wall. They are ineligible to the literal. I just know. My only knowledge is to fight then flight and call on the darkness of within to escape this gridlock.



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