He didn’t even care anymore.
He just woke up in the morning.
He stood, stretched, sat by the door for his serving of oatmeal and water.
He ate quickly and swallowed the water before setting the bowls aside.
He stood and watched them as they opened his door.
He walked ahead of them, not letting them drag him along.
He entered the room and sat in his chair.
He bolted himself in, legs first then placed his needles in.
He slid on the little cap they gave him.
He placed his arms in his holds and listened to them lock.
He held back his screams as the energy coursed through him.
Because what was the point of caring?
There was none, not when He didn’t care either.
And so, with a blank expression, he repeated his routine each day.
Because that is what he had to do.
That was what he must do.
That is his life.
He must live it.
Yet... as he sat there, eyes as vacant as his mind, something still lurked.
A small spark of hope.
And soon... that spark would power the machine.
