The White Room: Reality Ripped, #1

By C.F. Villion

A dream or reality? Can you tell the difference?

X13N2 experience daily terror at the hands of aliens, her mind filled with the jumble of many lives, memories of other places and time. The only constant is the Kerpathi Caretaker that anchors her to the here and now. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.F. Villion
• Release date: Feb 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386546221

C.F. Villion

A spark was kindled in C.F. the first time she read Terrance Dicks' Spacejack and a love for Sci-Fi was born. Never quite satisfied with the endings of her favourite books she wrote her own. Eventually, C.F. started making up new worlds and characters. Not to say that the occasional television show or movie doesn't get a better ending than it initially received. But creating universes are more fun. Living in sunny South Africa C.F. enjoys reading as much as she writes and dreams of the next great adventure.

Book preview

ONE

NOVEMBER 2013

Sunlight played over her fingers, ran lazily across the back of her hands and up her arms, coming to rest gently against her cheek. In the distance, waves crashed against the rocks. Childlike squeals of delight echoed through the air. And warm ocean water ran over her bare feet, lapped at her ankles and receded.

With a sigh, she shrugged off these peaceful dreams and attempted to roll over into a more comfortable position. Unable to move far, she struggled sleepily against dead limbs. Piercing hot needles sent wave after wave of pain crashing through her; opening her eyes, she screamed.

Lucy's eyes popped open, and she wrestled with the covers, attempting to free her arms she only entangled herself further.

Ganymede System: Ship's Cycle 203

With consciousness came pain, searing through her limbs. She screamed until her throat felt raw and her voice was hoarse.

Why, why? Please stop, please, please.

She felt weak and humiliated; always she vowed to remain silent and not respond to anything, yet almost every time she woke there was a plea on her lips. Her pain-filled cries were terrible, and it stirred nothing in them as far as she could tell, and indeed they ignored her completely.

Still weeping, she quieted down; it was always the same. No matter how much she begged, she knew they wouldn't stop. Their species wasn't known for their kindness; curiosity perhaps, thirst for knowledge and the ruthless pursuit thereof definitely.

She couldn't remember how she knew these things; perhaps she had been an anthropologist or even a holovid newscaster. She fervently hoped she had been more than a pretty face that read the latest news to the universe.

Gor nak tu, lek nath. The voice was low and raspy, grating on the nerves with its inhuman quality.

Propped up unceremoniously, the alien probe was removed from its socket at the base of her skull with a sickeningly wet sound. The only kindness they had afforded her was to numb the back of her neck permanently. Unsure of the length of the wriggling probe, but sure she wouldn't want to feel it inserted and removed, she thanked any passing deity for the small thoughtless mercy.

Who her deity was, or if she ever had one was just another mystery which she added to the tabulation of things lost. A small feeling of more belief systems than could be calculated nagged at the back of her mind.

She was pulled off the exam table and forced to stand; each time she sagged, she was pushed back upright more forcefully.

Standing upright and in place took all her energy and attention. Perhaps that was the goal – she would be less likely to cause a fuss. After all this time, though, she didn't bother thinking about escape anymore. What was the point? Where would she even go?

A push from behind propelled her forward followed by a barked order. They must have known that she didn't understand, yet they continued to issue commands. The caretakers’ expressions remained unreadable. Impassive didn't begin to describe the lack of recognisable twitches and spasms one could expect from humans or another species of alien.

The long corridor stretched out ahead of her, as she walked sandwiched between the two caretakers. Each step ached. It took all of her concentration to keep up. She felt weak but knew that if she fell, there would be hell to pay.

The last five steps were the worst; the outside edges of her feet were cold and her soles burned. She almost lost her footing, but finally, they were in front of the door to her room. Technically speaking, it was a cell, since she couldn't escape, but she felt so much relief whenever she saw that door. It was her haven and not her prison. One of the caretakers gave her the last push, and she fell into the room, landing awkwardly on her left hip.

The door slid closed with a hiss. She stayed where she fell, savouring the coolness of the white floor underneath her. Eventually, though, she had to move; bodily functions were calling for relief. She got onto all fours and crawled painfully over to the ablution area. There wasn't much to it, no privacy screen, and an open shower head.

Nonetheless, she was pleased to make use of all the available functions. As always the aliens provided clean clothing, drab but comfortable pants with a simple shirt. The shirt covered her front but scooped low in back to leave her neck and back exposed for their convenient access.

Painfully she walked over to her favourite spot in the entire room, the viewport, an oval suspended above her bed. 'Bed' was a rather lofty name for the built-in slab, with a thin, stuffed strip of material meant to be a mattress resting on it. No covers though and they climate-controlled things so well that there was never any need for blankets.

She would have liked to have one anyway; there was a sense of comfort to be derived from even a sheet. Perhaps that was why there were none.

She sank onto the thin mattress with a sigh of pain, her aches more than she could count, and looked out through the viewport. Her view hadn't changed in days, which seemed unusual; the same stars filled her stretch of space. Where were they – was the ship hiding behind a moon, or boldly docked at an abandoned re-supply station?

Somewhere out there was her home, or whatever remained of it. Was she missed, or had they given up on her by now?

She could no longer remember when or how she got on board, or which time cycle it was. It concerned her that she had lost track of something so important. At one point that was her focus, time and how much of it slipped by. But they broke her and shook it out of her; did they use one of their many techniques to wipe her memory? Or was her mind so frail that in the end it just gave up?

Sleep was unavoidable; though she suspected that even there they followed her and ran their experiments. As her eyes drifted shut, the stars twinkled in the distance, providing a quiet reassurance all their own. A starry comforter, she thought as she fell asleep.

November 2013

Baby, wake up! It's just a nightmare, come on, wake up, please? Kevin implored, cupping Lucy's face.

Lucy finally got free of the covers and attempted to twist free of Kevin's hands. Eventually, he let her go, and she sat up to peer into the darkness of the room. Wisps of hair were plastered to pale cheeks drenched in perspiration or tears.

Are you alright? he asked, concern filling his voice and echoed by his hands gently rubbing heat into hers. You were screaming again.

Lucy nodded automatically, removing her hands from his and wiping frantically at her cheeks, shivering uncontrollably.

Relief flooded her at being able to move freely, but in the next moment, nausea got the upper hand. She jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She didn't bother with the lights in her rush to the toilet