The Room Above

Day 0

For a moment, he had no thoughts. Just…observations… A blue hole. No – a window… Crystalline sky swelling through a big square gap in the otherwise plain white wall.

He blinked.

Was that sky out there? What was in here? Where was ‘here’?

He blinked several more times as if trying to lash away the grogginess. It certainly did little to dissipate the growing blur spots in his vision. How long had he been laying there, just staring? His body felt a little less limp than a rag doll, yet he managed to roll onto his other side to face away from the bright window. He didn’t seem to mind his lack of bodily strength.

How long was I asleep for?, he wondered instead, idly staring at the ceiling. This seemed farther away than the window had – and much more pleasant to behold: a smooth dome dotted with fluorescent glowlights. As his vision cleared, his gaze turned downward. There were many objects in the room, but they were dim and afar. Just distant shapes and shades of white. In fact, pretty much everything here was white. Or so he thought.

As he craned his neck back to follow the circular wall, he stopped suddenly. His eyes widened as they registered a jarring but remarkable span of swirling colors on the far side. More shockingly still, there was a figure sitting in a chair, facing the great painting.

He pressed his palms against the cool, padded floor and quivered onto his white-pantsed knees. It was only now that he noticed his outfit: plain, well-fitted linens without pockets.

Where am I?, he wondered – and for the first time since apparently waking – scared.

He was still on his knees, shifting his weight forward onto his hands. His left index finger twitched on the sterile floor. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here. He couldn’t remember anything. His arms buckled as if they might cave. He took a deep, shaky breath before rising slowly onto his bare feet.

“About time you got up,” the figure across the room said but didn’t turn around.

“Who-wh-who are you?” He was surprised at the immense effort he spent just to mumble these few words.

The figure’s shoulders rolled as if he were drawing at the edge of the immense tapestry. “Call me Jack. You?”

He opened his dry mouth to answer but was silent.

My name? His heart thumped at the panicked realization. What’s my name?

“It’s okay,” Jack said after a moment, almost a laugh in his tone. “I’m sure that they’ll brief you soon – before the day’s over at least.”

“They?”

“Yeah, I’d imagine so. Then again, I can only imagine why in the hell they put you up in here with me for.”

“Who…who are you?”

“I told you already… Relax. You might as well take a good look around. This’ll be your new home – at least for a little while. I mean who really knows with them.”

“Where…where am I?”

“The hell if I know.”

He turned slowly, feeling cold. There was a small white table in the middle of the room with two white chairs across from each other. On his right was a gray medicine ball and some silver tension ropes lying next to a frosted-glass-walled booth through which he could vaguely make out shower, sink, and toilet. On his left was a pair of beds flanking a small handcart stuffed full of worn, yellowed books. And of course, in front of him was the immense artwork that Jack attended to.

The nameless man stared at the stunning expanse of bright chalky colors: sunset reds and orange rays all streaking and swirling around a yellow core hovering just above a twilit sea.

“What is it?” was all he could think to ask, forgetting his other confusions for the moment.

Jack sniffed a chuckle. “The sunset. What else?”

“It’s…it’s incredible…”

“Yeah…” Jack seemingly agreed, though his tone was plainer now. “Yeah, it really is something, isn’t it?”

“Where are we?”

Jack’s hunched back stiffened. “They’re coming…” he said, just above a whisper.

“What?”

Jack spun around in his seat before slumping down onto the floor and leaning back. His shaggy auburn hair fluffed up against the mural. “Trust me…” he said, before closing his eyes. He seemed neither frightened nor concerned. “Just sit down. You don’t want to keel over and smack your noggin.”

Then the nameless man heard it. That soft, airy hiss… “What is that?” he asked, turning around and around. “What is that?”

“Trust me…” Jack said, waving his hand over a small floor vent as if stoking an invisible flame. The man hadn’t noticed dozens of grille-covered openings