My name is not known, but I live in a complex prison. I am always trying to escape. Everyday, I gain insight by going through routines with the other prisoners until I can make an attempt to escape. When I am caught for escaping, the consequences are so inconsequential that it is better to think of it as if there was no punishment at all. A life sentence, here, is exactly that. We are kept alive for the entirety of it. We waste away only if our will power diminishes. In a prison with no chance of release, then, our only hope is to escape. They were foolish for setting it up this way. They leave no choice but to try and escape at all times. Although I don’t think anyone has escaped successfully, I do not think they are actually concerned about recapturing. They will use every method to prevent the escape, but after the escape is committed, they will not pursue. The dream that keeps me alive, then, is that I will collect enough knowledge to escape. Picture that. That I have tried to escape countless times over so that I know several methods of escape from my cell. I know which halls to navigate, which times the guards are switching shifts, weaknesses in the walls, and blind spots in the camera. WIth enough collected knowledge, I can assure you that I will escape.


But there is a problem. I did, once, get to the point of escaping. But as I looked over the wall, I had a pragmatic realization that my plunge to the ground, though helping me escape, might be fatal. Would I still be immortal after exiting the confines of the prison? I did not know if my immortal state was part of my body, or just a spell put over this location. From this reckless, strategic vantage point, there would be no way to know without trying. Yet, perhaps this method was too reckless. I convinced myself that the method lacked beauty, and that there was no way it would allow me to live. The risk became far too great when presented with the idea that a more tactile escape could be executed with more skill and ingenuity. So instead of jumping out into the barren green meadows surrounding the compound, I allowed myself to be captured, where I would contemplate the new method of actions to help me plot my true escape.


After awakening the morning after my near escape from the rooftop, I found myself in a furnished bedroom. Had I actually escaped? Was I suffering some kind of amnesia? It didn’t make so much sense, and it made me all the more wary. IT had been so [???] that the photographs in the frames on the nightstand were completely foreign to me. What were these cities and odd structured in these frames? It was almost hard to believe that even the concept of a picture frame would remain unchanged after seeing the bizarre set of foreign nuances in the photograph. And if the photo was just a stock photo that came with the frame, it would present an even greater set of complexities as a symbol that is intended to be readily-interpreted was entirely alien to me. I could only assume this was shown to me to discourage me from escape. I laid the picture frame down on this face, and made toward the door. Oddly, the door was not locked. It opened into a hallway with many other doors laden against the walls. The proximity of the door was disturbing to me, though, for they were far too close to justifying the width of the room I had just left. Wresting myself from the details, I made off down the hallway, simply to gather as much information as I could before I would be inevitably captured and sent back to my new room–also, a test to see if I would even be returned to that same room. But as I walked, I found that the details were impeccably uniform. They would not allow me to track the distance travelled by own mental faculties, if they could help it. Assuming that the doors were to those of other prisoner’s rooms, I had not opened any until now. But now, I gave one a try and found that it was easily opened–back into my own room. Despite the distance I travelled, I had either gone nowhere, or the door had followed me. But in these circumstances, such absolutes could only be more harmful to the process of discovery. With no foreseeable method of exiting the hallway, I had reached the confines of my new cell.