Lunos II

Written by Wren Marco

Something sticks with me after watching that video feed on the second monitor. I think it only sticks with me because I’m hungry for something. Without food, my thoughts are all I have to chew on.

“You have a kinder heart than most.”

It doesn’t make sense to me. That man, Ezra, only seemed to act out of kindness because he didn’t know who or what he was dealing with. He only saw a fraction of what that monster could do. He didn’t know any better. And from what little he did know, he reacted to it all like a coward.

Who in their right mind loses all composure and can’t even pull the trigger in a moment like that. The human body is designed to act on instinct in moments like that. A normal human body at least.

He was lucky that the music player was his only problem. He was lucky the fish just happened to be nearby. He was lucky to find a wife after so many years alone. He’s not kind, he’s just lucky. He's a piece of shit loser who survived solely on luck that he had nothing to do with.

Don’t be bitter just because you think he’s luckier than you are.

Who asked you?

The screen is still for a moment, until I realize that my captor needed a moment to come up with a more cryptic response than usual.

Luck only comes to those who actually roll the dice.

Roll the dice? What part of his spineless behavior strikes you as an active choice on his part?

The universe has many dice. They’re just… hard to find sometimes. And you don’t always see the results of your rolls right away.

I try to come up with a response until my stomach decides to chime in for me on my behalf.

*Grumble*

I’m hungry. Why is food hard to find?

I can help you with that… if you ask nicely.

I stay quiet, giving a moment to see what my captor’s next move will be if I don’t argue back for once.

Hmm. Not quite what I was expecting, but this is still a fruitful development, no? Genuine silence and patience!

I can practically hear the sarcasm oozing from the words that I can only read visually on the monitor screen.

Why don’t we go a step further and remove your gag while we’re at it.

At this, a presence from behind me makes itself known. I hear them stand up from what sounds like an old, wooden chair. My heart drops upon coming to the realization that this person (or what I can only assume is a person) has been there this whole time. Is this my captor? Or just some henchman? I can’t tell. I can’t even hear them breathing, and that only concerns me even more.

I stay still as they remove my gag. I take slow, deep breaths to show that I don’t want any trouble with whoever this is. They remain quiet. Eerily quiet. So quiet that it’s only then that I can confirm that they aren’t even breathing at all. Are they even alive? After nearly a whole minute, they step away, returning to the chair at the back of the room.

My heart’s racing, both because of the fear that naturally arises from being watched by some unknown entity sitting right behind me in a dark room, alongside the lingering frustration that I’ve had since I got here.

Yes, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t mean I’m a coward like Ezra. I hate people like him more than I could ever fear anything or anyone.

“Go to hell!” I shout, then spit on the floor. My saliva only contributes a few drops into the puddle of water at my feet. Fortunately for me, the observer behind me is still just that, an observer.

You rolled snake eyes.

Asshole.

The voice stops responding after that.

…

Another hour goes by, mostly alone with my thoughts, until I remember that I don’t even have the luxury of mental solitude anymore, let alone physical solitude. With nothing else to do, I find myself thinking back on that video still.

What I said before was spiteful, sure, but I still stand by it. The old man wasn’t prepared for his situation, and it seems strange to me that he survived just because he was “kinder than most”. It all feels… contrived to me.

That’s what I think at least, if I’m being honest. I would ask what you think, but that’s only if I cared. Sorry if that’s blunt, I just prefer being honest with myself.

Hmmm…

If I am being honest with myself, then maybe I ought to clear the air here, for my own sake. The truth is, there was a lot of other shit that came to mind as I watched that video. Not just stuff that left me thinking, but stuff that actually seemed familiar. Believe it or not, I actually know some of those people. And that wasn’t the first time I’ve seen that laboratory.

But I won’t explain these things to you. Yes, you, the one reading this page on this website right now. I don’t know who you are, and I sure as hell don’t want you to know me. I’m not ready for you to know these things about me. You don’t even know my name.

My name is all that I have left in this prison. I won’t let you take that one last thing away from me. I won’t even think about my name if that’s what it takes to keep it to myself.

Is your name that valuable to you?

This time, the words appear on the third monitor instead of the second.

Yes.

I see. Then maybe this is where we can start negotiating.

Frustration begins to boil up inside me again. Reader, you have no idea how degrading and belittling it feels to bargain with a monster that is already paging through every little corner of your mind like it's as insignificant as a leisure read for Monday night book club. I can feel my captor’s prying fingers in my head, like worms slithering around, looking for food.

I want to shout.

I want to punch something.

I want to destroy every last monitor in this stupid room.

I want to go home.

But I can’t do anything about it.

I don’t think you quite understand your bargaining chip here. I already know who you are. But someone else does not.

Okay…? What’s your point?

My point is that you and I both understand how important your identity is to you. But what you don’t seem to understand is how valuable your identity is to the people who aren’t privy to the knowledge that you and I share.

In case you can’t tell, my captor is referring to you here. It shouldn’t be surprising when I say that I have no interest whatsoever in entertaining whatever train of thought they seem to be building up towards.

*Grumble*

You can’t stay this stubborn forever you know. You’re gonna starve sooner or later, Snake Eyes.

Don’t call me that.

Then what would you prefer I call you instead? Your real name obviously isn’t an alternative here, seeing as you’re so protective of it.

Hmm… “Snake” is fine. It sounds cool and mysterious.

Hmmm… no, I don’t think that fits you very well. I’m going to call you “Horus”.

That’s… a stupid name.

No it’s not! It’s quite clever if you think about it! Remove “Snake”, and all you’re left with is “Eyes”! You can be Horus and… I can be Ra.

Then just call me “Snake Eyes” then. I’d rather not humor your god complex.

Hmmm… complex? Funny. Despite your over-protectiveness with your real name, you clearly don’t know who I am. Especially since you didn’t capitalize the g in “God” in your thoughts.

Is that supposed to scare me?

It wouldn’t scare you if you had more context. That being said, I’ll offer you a deal: Tell the reader how many letters are in your name and if you do… I’ll do the same. And furthermore, just to sweeten the deal, I’ll even feed you an adequate meal before the next story begins.

No deal. I don’t care what you offer me, I won’t reveal anything about my name.

Why?

Because it’s none of their business!

That’s… a fair point, it isn’t. But I don’t think that’s your reason here.

Does that matter? I already said no.

It does matter. You and I know both know what a name really is. It’s not just a means for interacting with someone.

I roll my eyes as the philosophical monologue begins.

A name links a person to their identity, both in how that person knows themselves, as well as how others know them. And for many people, their name can change over the course of their lifetime, for various reasons. This can make a person’s identity a somewhat fluid and adaptable thing, don’t you think?

Oh my god, get to the point already.

That being said, when someone does decide to change their name, it's often for a productive or self fulfilling reason. A marriage to the one they love, or a self discovery even. In a way, changing one’s name is a celebration of who they’ve become, and how they’ll define themselves going forward into the vast, unknown future.

But, like most things, this isn't absolute.

For others, they may change their name in order to cover up their past in some way.

Their mistakes. Their regrets.

*Grumble*

I have no words for my captor. And I certainly don’t have anything to say to you.

Horus, you’re not just afraid of being identified.

You’re afraid of being known.

Aren’t you?

Fuck… you…

Would you like to see someone else who’s also afraid of being known?

I don’t care.

Hmmm… this is your last chance to accept my original offer. Share just a little bit about your name with us, and I’ll do the same and more.

I’m ready for the next story.

I hoped my captor could hear the spiteful smile in my inner monologue.

Your pride reeks.

Before I have the chance to say anything else, the third monitor illuminates. The screen flickers and sound begins. Only this time in a much more relatable setting: an apartment bedroom in what appears to be a city. I can hear car horns and shouting pedestrians outside. In the room, a young man is spread out across his bed, his comforter strewn recklessly about across his mattress. His digital alarm clock begins going off, but he doesn’t get up to silence it, all too exhausted in a slumber of apathy and self pity. I can hear his thoughts, just as I could with Ezra.

Just leave me alone. Leave me be. Leave me…

Hmm… I wonder why he’s emphasizing “Me”. Do you think he’s aware of his own thoughts?

Start making commentary during these, and I’ll make sure you regret it.

We both know that’s an empty threat. But, I have my manners after all. I know it’s impolite to talk during a movie. :)

I spit on the floor again as the date and location are once again printed at the top left corner of the screen.

07/20/2010

Somewhere, California

…