The Assessment
You woke up feeling groggy, your eyes were heavy, your head was pounding, and you felt weak. It was like you had partied a bit too hard last night, but the thing was, you didn’t.
The last thing you remember was walking home, and now you are… as you came to your senses, you noticed that you had no clue where you are. You looked around for clues of where you might be, but all you saw was a room with the walls covered in white sheets, white bright lights pointing to your face, and a camera a few feet from you.
You tried to gather any strength you had to get up and try to find a way out, but you soon realized your wrists were tied to the uncomfortable chair you were sitting in.
You tried your best to process whatever was happening to you, but your brain didn’t seem too keen on the idea, it could barely keep up with your surroundings, much less come up with explanations of what happened to you. You tried to keep your thoughts small and simple, nothing too overwhelming, despite your situation, you were kidnapped and clearly drugged, but why? Why you? Why leave you in this dumpster of a photobooth? Panic gripped you; even though you wanted answers, wanted to ask questions, wanted to scream, your brain was lethargic, incapable of reacting appropriately to the situation, all thanks to the drugs that were still coursing through your system.
You didn’t have time to come up with any theories, because you heard the creak of a door opening and a tall slim figure entered the room. You couldn’t quite make out their face, because the bright lights in your eyes blinded you.
“How are you feeling today?" The voice sounded sweet, almost caring, and definitely feminine.
"Who are you? Where am I?” You tried to ask, but it was as if you were saying a tongue twister and the words didn’t come out quite right, too sluggish.
“You can call me doctor, and this is just a screening, I’m here just to make sure you are in good condition to move on to the following stages" the doctor spoke calmly, like they do this a hundred times a day, like it was any other ordinary check up. You watched as they moved to the camera, adjusting the lenses, before a small red light lit up.
"Are you going to record this? Why-Why am I tied up?” You started to grow more anxious and your speech suffered the consequences of it, you saw them walking in your direction, and you tried to struggle once more against your restraints, to no avail.
“Calm down, this is all for your security, this is all going to be okay." You felt a pinching pain in your arm while she comforted you, before going numb as a wave of calmness took over your body. You no longer had any strength to struggle, not that you had a lot, you could still move, but you knew you couldn’t run or fight if you wanted.
They untied one of your wrists and made a few tests, like lifting it up and seeing how long you could hold it up, how tightly you could hold their hand, and of course, if you would try to attack them or escape in any way. After seeing that the drug left you compliant enough, she fully untied you and went behind the camera.
"We are now recording the first medical assessment of patient 1620, brought in for treatment by their spouse. Can you please state your full name and age for the camera?" Their sweet tone gained a new layer of coldness, like a researcher talking about their lab rat.
“Spou-I don’t have a spouse, I’m not even dating, what are you talking about?” Your confusion was clear in your voice.
“The patient reports not remembering spouse, the reported memory problems have already been observed. Patient 1620, can you please state your full name and age for the camera?” They continued as though they were talking about a delirious person.
"Memory problems? What are you talking about? Please, please, just tell me where I am, what is happening?” Your pleas were weak, and a small tear dropped from your eye. You were just so confused, none of this made sense.
You watched as the doctor sat down, and started to go through some paper, they stopped on what seemed to be one of the first pages. You observed them fixing their glasses, and then they opened a notebook and started writing something while reading the notes.
"Patient 1620 seems unable to answer the questions made to them, further giving evidence to these so-called “memory lapses" that were reported when they were brought in.” They looked up from the papers to you
“To answer your questions now, this place is a private facility specialized in neuropsychological research. Your spouse brought you in because according to them you had lost your memory, and I am here to help you recover it. And from my initial assessment I can see it is true, so we will start with the process. Don’t worry, it is mostly harmless.” They spoke in a sweet, and caring voice, like this was all very normal, and not completely unsettling.
"Wait- Start the pro- Ah!” Before you could ask any questions about the process that was supposed to help you, the light in front of you started to flicker rapidly, distracting you, and throwing you off your train of thought.
"Don’t close your eyes, it is very important you look at the lights, watch how they flick and blink, allow them to help you, to help you take away all the things that don’t matter, opening space for all that was gone to come back again” their voice was soft and inviting like an embrace, and even though the light bothered your eyes, you couldn’t help but be tempted to stare at them, just to be able to comply with them.
“Allow yourself to relax, just let your eyes stay open, they will grow accustomed to the lights soon enough, they will see how much the light calms you down. Which blink, which strobe, which flicker, sends a wave of relaxation down your mind, drowning away your thoughts, your worries, your stresses. Yes, you are doing very well, just let the light envelop your mind.” Like honey dripping down your brain, their words stick so easily on you, their suggestions were too enjoyable to not follow. So you let your eyes open, you stared at the light as it flickered, and the more you stared, the more everything in your mind went away. You felt your mind becoming light, no thoughts, or ideas, or wants, just the light.
“And I can see those eyes getting heavy, and it is okay, because once you do the light will keep flickering inside your head, keeping you warm and blissful, calm and relaxed. I want you to listen to me, you are going to stare as much as you can at those lights, because once you close your eyes, your mind will be fully open for use to continue your treatment, and you want to be properly ready. Because
3, your mind is so very empty,
2, you want to get better,
1, totally open to me, and
SLEEP,
close your eyes and sleep.”
And for what felt like an eternity, you were now in total and absolute peace, no mind, no worries, just the lights and their voice guiding you.
“And as we can see patient 1620 is now in hypnotic trance, and we can proceed with reinstalling their programing.” They talked coldly to the camera.
“Patient 1620, can you hear me?” This time their voice had a commanding tone, like they no longer needed to play a part.
"Yes, doctor".
“I would like for you to go deep down into your memories, the places buried inside your mind, and search for the last time you were here. Do you remember being here before?” they said firmly to you, weaving the instruction to your mindless brain to follow.
And so you did.
This wasn’t your first time here, you remember now.
One day coming back from work you were drugged and brought into a strange room with the walls covered in white sheets, with white bright lights pointing to your face, and a camera a few feet from you. They made the lights flicker until you were empty and mindless, and they told you things that would soon turn into your truth.
You were taught how much better it was to simply not to think, they showed you how hard it was, how much energy you spent everyday on it, on ideals, beliefs, wants and needs. They showed you an easier life, a better life, one that came without effort or hard work, one that was graciously given to you, the life of servitude.
You no longer needed to think, or have ideas, wasting time on remembering useless stuff, like what’s your job? or where you lived? or what is your name? You just needed to remember two things, that obedience is pleasure, and pleasure is obedience. After all, obeying is so easy when your head is so empty, following instructions doesn’t require thought, it just requires you to feel pleasure.
You were made to understand that you weren’t a person, just a slave. Your purpose was to serve, that obedience was pleasure, and pleasure was obedience. They said you were nothing more than a toy to be used and discarded, and they turned you into one.
And you have never been happier.
Not thinking was the best thing that ever happened to you, not having the burden to decide was a blessing. Every command you were given, every task completed, was a jolt of mind numbing pleasure straight into your veins, you spent every second in pure ecstasy.
“Yes, doctor, I remember." As you spoke a hit of arousal appeared in your speech.
“Good slave, so what we are doing today is a follow up session. We had complaints from your owner regarding "free-thinking”, and we don't want that, do we?" They said in a condescending tone.
"No, doctor” the last thing you wanted was to be a bad slave, you wanted to be the best you possibly could.
“Good, open your eyes, I want you to masturbate, while staring at the light, and repeating what I say. We will make sure that you will associate the pleasure you feel from touching yourself with the idea of serving your owner, so when you do serve them, you will feel as if you were masturbating." They methodically, like it was nothing out of ordinary, just another procedure they do every single day.
Your hands obediently reached in between your legs and you knew you were ready for your training to start.
