Snippet #1566314

Jonah sat at his cubicle, his computer staring back at him, the cursor blinking rhythmically as it awaited him to type in the numbers he had been sent from three floors down. The work was tedious and mind numbing, but it put food on the table. He worked to buy food and pay for shelter, so that he could be safe and have the energy to go to work. A simple cog in a machine that barely recognized his existence. He wasn't even an important part... easily replaced by someone else in a white collar shirt and a tie willing to work overtime, but it was a cycle he was powerless to stop, and so he just flowed with the gears and tried to make as little waves as possible...

Pathetic...

Jonah blinked as he looked around, not seeing anyone standing in or outside his cubicle. Perhaps it was Stevens, the floor manager, chewing someone out for missing the deadline on a report or signing a form in the wrong spot... you know, one of those things that hurt productivity...

You lack power and ambition even in your dreams...

Those words echoed inside his mind, and slowly shaped themselves on his computer screen from the numbers he had been typing up. Jonah stared at them in disbelief as he tried hitting the delete button, but the voice merely laughed as the mouse and keyboard disappeared.

You can do so much yet this is all you aspire to? Working hard for a meaningless promotion that pays the same? They give you titles to make you feel important, but they keep all the power. But now you have something they can't take away...

Jonah's head began to throb as he stared at the screen, the words appearing by themselves. He looked around and realized he was no longer in his cubicle, but instead floating within a dark abyss, just him and the words as they hung in the blackness.

Kill them... they won't hesitate to do the same...

"Who's them?" he asked, speaking for the first time since reality began to unravel.

Everyone

Then the blackness turned into a blinding white light as Jonah's eyes eased open, sirens blaring before the lights were extinguished, though the chaotic sounds remained. Jonah felt numb, as though he had been lying down for days, maybe longer, but eventually found the strength to sit up. He was hooked up to some equipment, including an oxygen mask, but any thoughts of this being a hospital were put to rest when he saw armed guards run past his room. That was when he noticed how cold he felt. He had never felt so cold in his life, though he wasn't shivering, his body showed no signs that it was in danger...

That was when the voices began ringing through his head, other peoples but they didn't seem to be talking to him. He couldn't tell if that made him more or less crazy than people that heard voices. They were frantic, as though they were in danger, which he imagined he was in as well.

Hello? Where am I? He thought, attempting to see if the voices would notice him... then thought about how sad that was. He grabbed hold of the oxygen mask and pulled it from his mouth, breathing on his own for the first time in ages, though he could see his every breath as he panted, as though he were outside on a cold winters day.

"What is wrong with me?" He asked himself, looking at his hands as they seemed to be steaming, as though they were constantly colder than the air around him.

"Another one is waking up! Quick, sedate him!" A voice called out, and men in haz-mat suits threw open the door to his room and came running towards him. Jonah panicked, holding up his hands in fear, as though he would be stricken at any moment. As though acting on this fear, a beam of energy burst forth from his fingers, which were curled towards the men, and the beams went straight into their chests which knocked the men off of their feet and into unconsciousness, the other beams hitting the wall behind them. Jonah stared at his hands, then shook off the shock as he began pulling the tubes and such that held him to the bed, and tried standing up, but his muscles were weak, and knew running wouldn't be an option. So he walked, because it was all he could do. Upon reaching the door to his room, he poked his head outside the door to see that men with guns were running around everywhere, but he saw others in patient gowns climbing out of a window at the far end of the hall. He could hear some of their thoughts, and decided to try talking to the voices again to see if they acknowledged him this time.

Help me! I can barely walk but I need to get out of here! He thought, screaming it in his mind as he began shuffling towards the window, each step a labored effort.