The dream is always the same.

You are in the room.

It is white.

White walls.

White floor.

No windows.

You hold the object.

It is cold.

It is smooth.

It is heavy.

It is your hand.

You do not know where the metal ends and the skin begins.

You wake up.

The light is gray.

The alarm is loud.

You are in your bunk.

The barracks are silent.

Except for the breathing.

You sit up.

Your hands are empty.

They are trembling.

You look at them.

They are just hands.

They are brown and rough.

They are not the object.

You stand.

You wash your face.

The water is cold.

It feels like ice.

It feels like truth.

You dress.

The uniform fits tight.

It fits too tight.

You button the shirt.

You put on the badge.

It is a shield.

It is a mirror.

It is your face.

You walk out.

The corridor is long.

The footsteps echo.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

You are not alone.

But you feel alone.

You enter the break room.

The coffee is black.

It is bitter.

You drink it.

It burns.

You like the burn.

It keeps you awake.

It keeps you real.

You see him.

Thomas.

He is sitting at the table.

He is reading a newspaper.

He does not look up.

He knows you are there.

He always knows.

You sit down.

You do not speak.

You do not need to speak.

The silence is loud.

It is the sound of the system.

It is the sound of the rules.

The rules are iron.

The rules are cold.

The rules are the object.

You touch the table.

The wood is warm.

It is alive.

The table is free.

You are not free.

You are the shield.

You are the lock.

Thomas looks up.

His eyes are tired.

They are dark.

They are deep.

He smiles.

It is a small smile.

It is a sad smile.

It is the only smile you trust.

You trust it because it hurts.

"You look tired, Elias."

"I am tired, Thomas."

"Always."

"Always."

"Is the dream back?"

"Yes."

"The object?"

"The hand."

Thomas nods.

He folds the paper.

He puts it down.

He leans in.

His voice is low.

It is a whisper.

It is a secret.

"Listen."

"I am listening."

"We are not the guard."

"Who are we?"

"We are the key."

"That is impossible."

"It is true."

"How do you know?"

"I have seen it."

"Seen what?"

"The other side."

"Thomas, stop."

"Do not stop me."

His voice is hard.

It is steel.

It is the object.

"Elias, we are breaking."

"We are strong."

"We are broken."

He reaches across the table.

He grabs your hand.

His grip is tight.

It is painful.

It is real.

"I am with you."

"I know."

"Always."

"Yes."

You pull your hand away.

You look at the clock.

It is time.

You must go.

You stand.

You walk away.

Your heart beats fast.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It is a drum.

It is a warning.

It is a call.

The facility is large.

It is gray.

It is empty.

The halls are long.

The doors are heavy.

They are steel.

They are closed.

You walk.

You walk.

You walk.

You pass the cells.

The cells are dark.

The prisoners are silent.

They are shadows.

They are ghosts.

They are you.

You feel them.

You feel their pain.

It is in your bones.

It is in your blood.

It is in the object.

The object is growing.

It is becoming real.

You are becoming it.

You are the lock.

You are the key.

You are the door.

You reach the gate.

It is high.

It is thick.

It is locked.

You put your hand on the wheel.

The metal is cold.

It is the same cold.

It is the dream cold.

You turn the wheel.

It does not move.

It is stuck.

It is broken.

You push.

You pull.

You strain.

Your muscles burn.

Your back aches.

Your hands bleed.

The blood is red.

It is warm.

It is life.

The wheel moves.

It clicks.

It turns.

The gate opens.

A crack of light.

It is thin.

It is gold.

It is hope.

You step through.

The light hits you.

It is blinding.

It is warm.

It is free.

But you are not free.

The alarm sounds.

It is loud.

It is screaming.

It is the system.

The system wakes up.

The system is angry.

The system is the object.

It is coming.

You hear the boots.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

They are fast.

They are close.

They are here.

You turn around.

The gate is closing.

It is slow.

It is heavy.

It is inevitable.

You run back.

You run fast.

Your heart is pounding.

Your lungs are burning.

You jump.

You fly.

You land.

You are inside.

The gate slams shut.

It is loud.

It is final.

It is the end.

You are in the room.

It is white.

It is empty.

You are alone.

You look at your hands.

They are empty.

They are trembling.

They are not the object.

They are just hands.

You are just a man.

You are a soldier.

You are a cop.

You are a slave.

The system owns you.

The system owns your breath.

The system owns your dream.

The system owns your pain.

You are the lock.

You are the key.

You are the door.

And you are closed.

Thomas is there.

He is standing in the corner.

He is silent.

He is still.

He is watching you.

His eyes are hard.

His face is blank.

He is not your friend.

He is not your ally.

He is the system.

He is the agent.

He is the test.

You look at him.

You want to scream.

You want to fight.

You want to break him.

You want to break the wall.

You want to break the dream.

You do not move.

You do not speak.

You do not breathe.

You are still.

You are the object.

You are the statue.

You are the stone.

Thomas walks forward.

His steps are soft.

They are silent.

They are the shadow.

He stops in front of you.

He looks down.

He looks at your hands.

He looks at your face.

He speaks.

His voice is calm.

It is cold.

It is the ice.

"Did you think you were free?"

"No."

"Did you think you were strong?"

"No."

"Did you think you were alone?"

"Yes."

"You are never alone."

"Who am I with?"

"You are with the rule."

"You are the rule."

"You are the wall."

"You are the lock."

"You are the key."

"You are the door."

And you are closed.

The pain comes.

It is not physical.

It is mental.

It is spiritual.

It is the weight.

It is the burden.

It is the cost.

The cost of the shield.

The cost of the badge.

The cost of the duty.

The cost of the silence.

The cost of the lie.

The cost of the freedom.

Freedom is a lie.

Freedom is a trap.

Freedom is the object.

And you are the hand.

And you are holding it.

And you cannot let go.

And you must not let go.

And you will not let go.

Because if you let go.

You will fall.

And the fall is the end.

And the end is the dream.

And the dream is the white room.

And the white room is the tomb.

And the tomb is the heart.

And the heart is the stone.

And the stone is the truth.

And the truth is the pain.

And the pain is the love.

And the love is the fire.

And the fire is the end.

And the end is the beginning.

And the beginning is the dream.

And the dream is the white room.

And the white room is you.

And you are the object.

And the object is you.

And you are the pale shadow.

And the pale shadow is the light.

And the light is the dark.

And the dark is the night.

And the night is the day.

And the day is the life.

And the life is the death.

And the death is the sleep.

And the sleep is the wake.

And the wake is the dream.

And the dream is the truth.

And the truth is the lie.

And the lie is the life.

And the life is the death.

And the death is the sleep.

And the sleep is the wake.

And the wake is the dream.

And the dream is the white room.

And the white room is you.

And you are the object.

And the object is you.

And you are the pale shadow.