!!!
(English is not my first language. This story is entirely mine; AI was only used for translation.)
I read a line in a book recently: "When the hero dies, the music slows down." For a long time—about ten years—I couldn't grasp what that meant.
Setting aside the difficult circumstances I was in, I scrutinized the document handed to me. Time slowed down. I wanted to be sure there wasn't a single thing I had missed.
"Ms. Aysal, I believe you skipped a signature," the female official said solemnly. Her words lingered in my ears like residue from muddy soil. Pulling at the pen, I resisted the urge to close my eyes. I cleared my throat, scribbled a new signature, and stood up.
My fingers were tingling. The sound of my heart echoed incessantly in my ears. My temples throbbed. The paper was pulled from my hand as if it were an insignificant machine part, and leaving even my own self behind, I leaned back.
The woman approached the rectangular black metal table and placed the paper I offered into a thick-covered file. After turning her chair and sitting down, she began to speak, fixing her eyes directly into mine: "You know why you are here."
As I looked back without answering, I didn't feel a sense of pride; I felt like a loser. The weight of words could never mend a single emotion.
As if trying to encourage me, the woman continued: "Those who come here know this..."
But I wasn't one of them.
Instead of expressing it aloud, I tucked my feet into the wooden frame between the chair legs. "I know what I need to know," I murmured, but then it felt as if it would be better for her to remind me of the rules.
With a rehearsed air, she took a small remote from her pocket and projected a screen onto the empty wall, which was stripped even of its shelves. It looked more like a leftover slide from the boring university lectures I used to attend.
Biting my lip as I looked at the screen, the woman began to read: "Patients may not inflict physical violence upon one another under camera surveillance. That is the first rule. Patients cannot remove the neurochips implanted in them, which carry neurocognitive activity records, nor can they request their removal or assist others in doing so. Furthermore, no sharp or piercing objects, nor items like jewelry, necklaces, or rings, may be brought inside, other than those provided by the Mechanism. Let me also add," she said, changing the page.
On the screen, a red 'X' was drawn over a telephone icon. "Communication with anyone from the outside is also forbidden... For a final phone call, you may speak with a relative in the new registration room. Even..."
She paused.
I understood that I was expected to grasp the finality of it all.
"...to say goodbye," the woman finished.
The darkening inside me continued. Was the choice I made right or wrong? I laughed at myself. Choice? Hadn't I left the chance to choose far behind? When I thought a bit more carefully, I remembered that life was a black-and-white film.
"I spoke with them before I came," I lied.
To cleanse myself of everything that made every day a torment, there was only one path I hadn't tried: suicide. But no, that would be an excessively tragic end. I came to my senses once more, snapping awake as if I had fallen into an icy bathtub.
Looking into my eyes, the woman asked me to repeat this sentence: "I am Aysal Çetin. Despite receiving treatment for depression for nearly ten years, there has been no improvement in my condition, and as a last resort, I have been assigned to the 'Mechanism' by the chief physician. Furthermore, since the accompanying pessimistic thoughts, fatigue, indifference, and pain carry the potential to harm those around me and myself, the necessity of my admission to the Mechanism was deemed an 8 out of 10. The remaining two-tenths were determined by me as a 2 out of 10. I now wish to join the Mechanism and allow it to heal me. I consent to the implantation of a chip to measure the effects of my depression levels on the brain and to track my progress."
My lips closed. I repeated the woman's sentence exactly with my pale voice. I found myself in the innocence of a primary school child learning the alphabet. My eyes grew heavy; a sting touched my nose.
The sorrowful face of my mother and the disappointment on my father's face appeared before my eyes. Though we were never quite a complete family—and perhaps we were responsible for each other becoming this way—we were people who had believed we would be a whole together. With every passing second, I felt less like myself.
The woman rose from the table. Looking at me, she said in a distant tone, "Let's go." For a short time, I heard nothing but the sound of my own breathing. I followed behind her.
We left the room with the white door. We walked through corridors covered in parquet, drenched in the light pouring from fluorescent lamps. It was as if I didn't have control over my legs.
"A chip will be implanted here," she said when our eyes met. She added: "Your neurocognitive activities will be monitored from here... Our doctor will assist you in the best way possible regarding this."
"Neurocognitive activities?" I said; I had read about it on a news site. "For what?"
"To measure how your brain works and the effects of your tasks within the Mechanism..." she explained briefly.
I nodded. I didn't understand.
We entered an empty room nearby. First, I took off the necklace around my neck. Then, the silver-colored ring from my ring finger. I hadn't even felt safe while it was there on my finger; why would I suffer when I took it off?
Yet that ring... a wedding ring. The day I put it on, I thought it would heal me. Now, coming here to the Mechanism without notice, I hadn't even said a single word of goodbye to my husband.
When I was rid of everything on my person, I walked toward the partition connecting the main section to the inner room. My steps were slow and controlled, as if walking down a treacherous street.
When the door opened, the smell of burning filled my nose. Then the lights of the room turned on. In a room filled with a gurney and devices whose names I didn't know, I looked at a man in a white coat sitting on a brown stool. He pried open a thick book with two fingers and finally raised his eyes to look at me. He reluctantly set the book aside and stood up. "You may go," he said to the woman, and turning to me, added, "And you, to the gurney, please." However, the word "please" seemed to escape his mouth by accident. My heart was beating very fast with fear.
The door closed.
When the door shut and the woman left the room, the doctor looked at me with an icy expression and said, "Lie down so that your neck touches here." He was pointing to a void. My throat was dry. My blouse was making me cold. I did as he said.
The circular hole must have been positioned exactly at the center of my neck. Since the doctor said nothing to the contrary, I concluded there was no problem. Before long, I felt a metallic coldness. "I am going to give you an injection now," he said with the same distant manner. "Take a deep breath."
As my chest rose and fell rapidly, I felt the needle enter my body, searching through all the muscles, and then exit. Then, everything turned dark within seconds. As far as I could see, another syringe was inserted into my body, but I didn't feel it. It didn't cause pain; it was the moment of birth for something that would live along with me.
I thought I heard a faint sound in my ears. My eyes were half-open. The doctor's pacing back and forth rang in my head. Every color, every detail vanished in that moment of semi-consciousness.
I heard the doctor say, "The time is exactly 17:35." Numbers had no meaning to me right now. As digits passed through one another, my first task was to observe the surroundings. I took my eyes off the ceiling; the room was empty. The sterile coldness of the instruments had permeated everywhere.
The door opened, interrupting my thoughts. The doctor entered again and said it was time to go. As if I knew nothing, I wanted to ask "Where?" but my legs moved only in obedience. I lightly touched my neck; I was sure there was a bandage.
This time, the doctor handed me over to an employee waiting in front of the door, whose face was half-covered by a mask. "Come with me," said a voice with a strange timbre. The only thing that caught my attention was a necklace hanging over the black jacket, which I saw began with the letter A. I followed them for the rest of the way.
As I passed through the high walls aged with squares, it felt as though the ceiling would collapse upon me. The parquet floors slipped rapidly from under my steps. I tried to relax by taking deep breaths, but we walked for so long that I couldn't have predicted this official would stop and leave me all alone.
Light dripped like water onto that letter A. No matter how much I strained my eyes, I couldn't see the letter next to the A. Sometimes, a person just wanted to learn something irrelevant.
"This is the final stop," they said, adjusting their black mask. Then they looked at the smooth surface of the door.
When I looked there, I seemed to see a glowing white light. My eyes closed by reflex. The world lost all its vitality once more. The lights in the corridor suddenly went out. I was left alone with the darkness. As words became a knot in my throat, I looked at the door before I could even ask what was happening. My breath sounded louder in my ears.
A voice echoed off the walls: "Please take one step toward the door!"
My ears rang. I doubled over from the pain of excitement in my stomach. I thought about the contract I had signed. The fact that I was only a burden to my family brushed against my mind. Moreover, I was an absolute nothing to them most of the time. Despite all the beautiful memories, I was someone who was loved by no one except my husband. Being loved that much by him hadn't been enough to save me. Because giving water to someone who wanted to be full was useless.
I remembered the moment I took off that ring. I missed it already. But then... when I watched the death of all the good times, nothing remained in hand. Only that... the door standing before me now. All I wanted was to take a step and pass through the door.
But what about my legs... the sweat running down my forehead. The tear advancing toward my lips... what would happen to them?
The voice echoed once more: "Please approach the door!"
I felt the trembling in my fingers. My feet moved out of necessity, driven by fear, to save me from falling to the ground. As soon as I advanced a little, the iron door shook and opened to both sides. The noise left behind by the heavy door created a pressure in my ear.
I forgot everything. The smell of plaster filled my nose. I shuddered as if a cube of ice were touching my spine. The door was now behind me. A red light turned on. A light dangerous enough to suit an ambulance carrying a dying patient. Then, everything began to be illuminated by a hazy light.
What should I do? Where should I look?
"Hello?" I said, looking inside; my wrists were now obeying me out of curiosity or perhaps out of the fear they felt for everything. Suddenly, I thought of my mother—whom I loved despite everything—and on the other hand, my father, who had never loved me.
From within that pitch darkness, no one answered me.
My loneliness was slapped across my face. Looking at the empty walls as if struck by electricity, I asked, "Is anyone there?" All my limbs were trembling. I wanted someone to come out of there and say, "I am here too, I couldn't cope either." This was pure selfishness. But I needed selfishness at that moment.
O-or? I tried to chase away the thoughts that came to mind. "Or will I be left alone here?"
I heard a rustle. Along with the rustle, the sound of laughter was heard from a point in the back. Had I lost my mind?
"Excuse me?" I said, shivering. Did I have the courage to turn around? My heart beat excessively fast. The sounds of laughter gave way to sobs. I turned slowly. A thin light appeared.
Before me stood a woman sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her back pressed against the wall. She had wrapped her arms around her knees as if to protect herself from all dangers. Upon seeing me, her eyes suddenly flashed. I backed away vulnerably.
"You..." I murmured; was I talking in my sleep within a dream? "Who are you?"
The woman stopped sobbing: "It doesn't matter..."
I didn't want to leave her alone in the cemetery of nothingness. "How long have you been here?" I asked instinctively. On the other hand, I had hidden within the hardest shells of my own soul. Biting my lip, waiting for an answer was even harder.
"Forget it," the woman said, looking only at the wall opposite me. "You're new..." She said this like an insult. Her eyes now descended toward my feet with great intensity. "You aren't even aware of what's going to happen yet."
"I came here to get better," I replied. I ignored her. I turned my back. I wanted to go, but I couldn't. Where could I go in this room anyway? Besides... what was this woman talking about?
I looked at her more carefully.
"The door is behind you." Her voice sounded as if it were coming from someone dead.
"The door?" I asked in surprise. "I can't see anything but the wall..." I hadn't imagined this place like this.
The woman stood up, limping. In a dirty pajama set, she walked to the wall behind me. Just as I thought she had gone mad, she pushed the wall with all her might. I was waiting, holding my breath. Suddenly, a railed system was revealed. The wall split in two. An artificial light that dazzled the eyes spread from above. My eyes squinted instinctively. My hands were frozen. I shielded my eyes with them.
The woman turned to me and pointed to the gap opening at the edge of the door. "The Mechanism isn't here... This place is a prison. If you want to go to the Mechanism, go out. But choose one..." The woman's voice was trembling.
"To play or not to play..." she said in a low voice. It was as if her eyes had glazed over.
"What does that mean?" I asked with pressure in my heart, raising a single eyebrow.
"If you go out, you can't come back in." She shook her head from side to side.
"Why?" My mind had stopped. "What's out there?"
The woman stopped at that moment. Her face took on an expression of absolute blankness this time. For a moment, it was as if she wanted to gather her words. "The Mechanism... was a gluttonous animal that ate my son," she said; a faint anger passed through her eyes. I was losing my sense of time and space. "And it will continue to eat everyone who goes out there."
"If I sat here from morning till night, I would lose my mind," I replied. I didn't know how to react to what she told me.
She seemed to have given up. "I wish you could have understood me..." she spoke and drew away from the edge of the door. She went around me to the other corner and just lay down on the dry, cold floor and closed her eyes.
Outside... was the thing that would heal me there? When the woman's breathing became regular, I was watching the void with a burden tightening my throat. Outside... this prison could not be the thing to heal me. But how would I find out? Why had no one given me information on any subject? Should I have thought once more about coming here?
I wanted to reach my hand toward that void.
At that moment, the red light flashed again and a robotic voice was heard. "How would you like to step outside and meet the real world?"
This voice hurt my ears so much... but after the silence, it had also felt good. Biting my lips, I asked, "What's outside?" I had been talking to myself. But the same voice was heard again: "The outside was designed to heal you."
"To heal?" My eyes were fixed on the sleeping woman. Was she not affected by the sound at all?
"There is a world outside; this place is just a cage," the same voice answered.
"If I don't go out..." I said, gathering all my courage, "What if I don't want to go out..." If I become like that woman lying curled up by the wall.
"You will want to go out," the voice echoed once more. Its coldness was being etched into all my cells.
"No one can know that..." I denied. My voice was trembling; my breathing was out of control.
"We know." The voice was confident. It was audacious. Unlike me, it spoke with a superiority established by people who put every action they took into a logical framework. I couldn't be sure if it was a human or something like a virtual assistant. Trust... I didn't feel safe.
"You?" I asked. How many were they?
Then the voice, not losing its composure at all, asked, "Didn't you come here to get better?" "Then taste the healing. Line up to receive your first task."
The sentences of this robotic voice did not convince me at all. But afterward, I stopped and thought, feeling that I couldn't stay in this dungeon. my breathing quickened. All the gears of my decision-making mechanism turned. My energy was exhausted. I looked at the void once more and took a deep breath. "It's not here," I said. What if I lost my mind like that woman? Perhaps she hadn't lost her mind. That possibility would be worse.
As I stared at the door, my decision became more difficult. But all I knew was that I had come here 'voluntarily.'
My chest tightened. Could the only possibility that could heal me be hidden behind this iron door? The light was still flashing. And I was stationary. Outside... if that was the only place I could exist, then why not?
I stepped into the Mechanism on that very day.