The Escape Room

Dressed in his uniform, White Coat walks with confidence, carrying his clip board. I’ll pretend to be friendly and grateful to see him. He likes that. The rest of us have also got his number. There’s no point in resistance. We are held in these little prisons for no reason other than to be observed and studied in the Escape Room. We also know enough to act confused and a bit stupid. He expects that and we’ll get along much better that way.

 

We all shuffle off to the front and stare expectantly through the bars. He wants us ready and eager to go. We are off to the training. The Escape Room is more than a single room. It is a series of doors- each with a different color or pattern leading to hallways and more doors. We have to quickly learn the pattern and learn how to get to the exit in time or we won’t eat until much later in the day with only a meager meal. He will give us clues to figure out the right path. He actually thinks he’s training us. In reality we actually are just trying to stay alive. If we do learn it, the next day White Coat changes it altogether just to see how quickly we can learn the new pattern.

 

I often purposefully make mistakes some days to prolong the training. If you learn things too quickly, you’ll disappear. We ponder this at night. What happens to our brothers and sisters after they disappear? Some say they run free. Once one of us re-appeared and ran briefly by the bars. He glanced at us and hurried off, fearful of ending up back in our little prison if he paused. Still, there’s hope.

 

I look at the clues, studying the doors carefully. Today I’ll try something different. I’m going to go through the wrong door to tick him off. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get it right just to confuse him. I don’t care if I get less food. Big deal. It’s the only little thing I can control. He doesn’t look pleased. Tough. Maybe White Coat would like to try living like this.

 

Back in the cell. I sit with what passes as a smile to my fellow prisoners. They know what I am doing. A few participate in refusing to play his game. Most comply and get a little treat on the spot. Nothing changes. There he is at our cell door. It’s getting late and time for our meager food and water. Then it’ll be lights out once again. I can only look forward to dreaming. I will be free to roam wherever I want to go, even if it might be tough out there. I would take my chances.

 

My last thoughts as he prepares to shut off the lights: I reflect on the sign below the illuminated EXIT sign- quite ironic. It sounds so benign, but we know the truth here…. The sign reads in bold letters- “Rat Learning Lab… shut the lights at 5 PM”.