Aren’t You All Aglow In Your Thousand Yard Stare
Chapter Four
ProvidenceMine
From the expanse of the bleach whiteness of the ceiling, a
small blue white light encircled overhead from where Rand sat. It was like a comet, its illuminating
tail leaving a pathway behind it, as it encroached itself towards her, its
humming sound getting louder with each passing descent. It made a sudden stop, and Rand was
able to see reflections of light elongated on either side of the circle. It was a tube, clear and long as it
moved closer to her. Rand could
feel the blood drain from her face and neck. These officers were not going to stop at the electroshock
torture, but were going to bring down a new brand of hell-on-earth for her-this
she could be sure of.
The tube finally stopped and hovered about 12 inches from
her head. Rand was transfixed by
this new and deadly unknown, the crystalline instrument glinting against the
whiteness of the interrogation room.
“Perhaps you might be able to answer the question now,
prisoner?”
Rand’s attention was forced back to the cool, measured voice
of her Vulcan inquisitor, his upper body leaning forward over the table as he
looked at her levelly from his slit-like alien eyes.
“I told you I can’t answer that question! Ask me something else, damn it!!”
Rand and Glok glared at each other for awhile until Rand
felt something cold and hard snap around her ankles and wrists clamping her
onto the arms and legs of the chair.
She looks down and panics, struggling fruitlessly against the restraints
which were as black as the chair and tables themselves. The tube, which had been hovering above
ominously, lowered itself smoothly to the floor, effectively encasing her in
its walls. When Rand heard the rim
seal itself around her, the restraints suddenly popped open.
“What the hell?!”
Confused, Rand raised her arms towards her and rubbed her wrists. She saw Glok and the male guard looking
at her. She couldn’t see the
female guard, so she turned behind her sharply, and saw that she was next to
the entrance where she and Rand had entered this room earlier.
“Cadet, please answer the question.”
Rand’s attention returned to Glok. “I guess this means we’re going to run around this tree all
night?!”
“If you like.
If you want me to wait, prisoner, I can be a most patient
individual.”
“Patience is a virtue, so they say,” said Rand, her nerve
rearing itself upfront.
The silence lengthened between them, so much so that Rand
became a little fidgety. She
yarned, she bent over in her chair, she rubbed her nose, stretched her
legs. All the while Glok sat
there, watching her. There was no
sign of irritation, impatience, nothing.
Rand sat back in her chair and crossed her arms in defiance, and Glok
crossed his arms as well, easing back into his own chair. When Rand saw this copycat gesture the
sheer absurdity made her break out in sudden laughter. It started out as a giggle, low and
soft as its echo bounced off the walls of the tubing and floated around the
silence of the room. Her laughter
build and grew, morphing from giggling, to cackling, then to bursting guffaws-loud
and crude. Tears ran from her eyes
as Rand heaved and gulped in the waning air between fits and mirth. As her laughter continued, her ears
began to plug up and Rand found herself swallowing in order to unplug them to
ease the discomfort. She went on
like this for some time, almost like autopilot--laughing, swallowing, heaving,
gulping. Her breathing became more
shallow, her throat became more dry.
Again, Rand began to panic.
“Can you answer the question at this time, Cadet Rand?”
Glok’s voice was condescending, slithery, eerily calm like
still water. Rand grips onto the
arms of either side of the chair and leans forward in her chair.
“For someone’s who’s a Vulcan you don’t hear well, do
you?!”
Her voice came out high, strained. The dryness that was forming inside of her throat was now
spreading to her mouth and nose.
Rand stumbled blindly off of the chair and banged on the surrounding
tube with both fists, like a madwoman.
Glok pushed himself away from the table and got up from his chair. He walked towards Rand until he was
face to face with her. Standing poker-faced,
he asked the question again while he watched her struggle against the thinning
oxygen in her torture chamber.
Rand opened her mouth and tried to speak, but it was as if a
thick arid wad was stuffed down her passage, blocking all means of breathing,
all means of life.
Oh, God…Oh…My…GOD…!!
Rand’s eyes started to blur, the images smeared across her
vision like glittery apparitions, her knees starting to give way. As she collapsed, the last thing Rand
heard before blacking out was Glok asking her that same goddamn question spoken
in his native tongue.
