In the Mind Control Fields it felt like time had stopped at the last Great War;
the information recovery project wasn't completely over, the machine used for this purpose was, by then, too old and the subject connected to it, subject #6119, was trying to fight the allucinations caused by false memories and sensations that had been planted into his brain.
MIND CONTROL FIELDS
A distant, flickering light reveals to me the aged shape of my hands and the depth of the place I'm in. The air is cold and humid, the walls cracked, the visions keep coming although they've stopped right now, I think I'm awake. My brain is still processing all the informations and sensations "the Psychologist" implanted, so that at every surreal awakening, that synthetic voice manifests itself.
In these visions I see REFLECTIONS of different lives, it's like looking at the mirror without recognizing yourself.
I'm nobody and everybody, everyday I fight to REMAIN INTACT, to not completely lose touch with reality. "The Psychologist" not always manages to control me, in those moments I try to escape his blinding light...
...but resistance to MIND CONTROL is now futile.
Once again I find myself inside a luxurious theatre. Something outside terrifies me. The screen turns on, my will dissolves, the tape rewinds and the visions begin again.
When the visions begin it's like I see footprints ON THE DEAD SNOW, left by my walking out of this place, maybe an authentic memory. I struggle trying to walk but I find myself on my knees in the mud and the footprints that were so clear before, are now gone. His lies, once again, take me elsewhere...
I have hundreds of psychic connectors plugged into my brain through plasma fibers, with which the machine interacts with the AMIGDALA, its favourite part.
Sometimes through a crack in the wall I can see two EMERALD GREEN EYES sadly looking at me, I think they're an illusion generated by the visions. A survivor? Unlikely.
I'm just a drunk actor in the dressing room of the mind who can't recognize his true face, THE MASK THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS is one of my many faces, I'm just a mad jester who wears his own face as a mask.
The thoughts of other people come visit me while I'm asleep, sometimes I have to say FAREWELL to dear friends I don't even know. My pain is like the one of a son who lost his father.
My mind is torn apart by millions of mute voices that have built THREE SIDES OF A DANGEROUS MIND. It took over, making me live in three different moods at the same time.
My subconscious is falling from neverending stairs, my soul is dirty, I'm not free to express my ideas anymore. My only way out, at this point, is that crack I intermittently see.
I think I remember the details of a crazy project about information recovery in which "The Psychologist" decides for me and I am the "assistant". I must not think about it, what if all this was recorded on tape?