The Law of Deminished Returns (Again)

High Society

The room was small and basic and for company he had the ragged edge of static from the radio – white noise for dark thoughts.
He slipped his hands through the hoops to access the program, momentarily disorientated by the transition.
The system clock read the same as yesterday; unable to jog itself free of the Möbius loop subroutine that had infected it during the levelling.
The Internal room was a closed system, contained within the mainframe in the other room; the eternal ports sucked pix-light into the vacuum – there was nobody out there.
She spoke into his neo-cortex, the usual self gratifying litany of encouraging aphorisms
Everything’s going to be just fine
There’s nothing to fear
Another day in limbo.

The room was padded with memories and for company the static rose and fell - waves against the shores of his thoughts
He slipped his hands into the hoops and the room spun away.
The arms of the clock hung down as they always did, disinclined to continue the charade.
The inside room was clean and warm; no light in the windows – there was nobody out there.
Everything was going to be just fine.
Peachy.

The room was designed to hurt and for company the static rubbed the walls smooth – abrasion for ragged nerve-ends.
He slipped his hands into the hoops and he slipped away unnoticed.
The clock was in distress but there was nothing he could do about that since who knows when.
Inside was where he wanted to be even though he knew there was nobody out there.
Everything was gonna be just fine.
Just fine.

The room had nothing to say; neither did the static.
He slipped his hands into the hoops and stepped away.
Time is an abstract, capable of eternal silence.
Inside they had moved the furniture around just to mess with his head.
Everything was just fucking Peachy.

Rewind.