The Anarchist

4. Routines

[Contents retrieved from cell 012b. Date unknown.]

This is Annie.

I have still been unsuccessful in my attempts to recover my memory. This concerns me.

I must make it clear that I am not normally the sort of person who really feels that they need to deal in absolutes. I have no reason for doing so. I have no patience for the perfunctory concept of gods, and seeing as that is the only real form of determinism that there is, I have found certainties to be rather less than useful. I do, however, require my own personal knowledge to be dependable. As one may imagine, this business of amnesia creates a complication in this regard.

While I am determined to rectify this state of affairs, my efforts to do so have been frustrated by the nature of the condition itself. Due to the total randomness of my losses of consciousness, it is impossible for me to keep track of my actions or whereabouts reliably. I may intend to do any manner things, but at any given moment I may suffer a blackout and return to consciousness oblivious to whether I'd done what I'd intended or not. It is a catch-22, but I need to find a way to fight it. I need a non-perishable medium with which to preserve my to-do list and keep track of its completion. Ah! Of course! Paper! I must truly be getting rusty if Occam's Razor is escaping my notice these days. I shall work on this later.

The purpose for which I wrote this particular letter was to chronicle aspects of the daily schedule in this dank little cinderblock, as well as some irregularities that have been encountered within that schedule.

Most of the time we spend here passes between these familiar three walls and iron-barred door. We appear to be left to our own devices for the most part, although I am certain that there are hidden cameras monitoring us. Those running this place surely cannot be so careless as to forego such a basic security measure. Perhaps I should check for them. Their presence or absence could make the difference between success and failure when I attempt my escape.

Moving along swiftly.

During a time that I suppose is early morning (there are no clocks in the cells) some of the guards take us down to breakfast in a clean, somewhat bland cafeteria that is so neutrally coloured and decorated that it drains any pleasantness out of itself. Afterwards, they return us to our cells, only to return for lunch.

It is only following that that there is any form of stimulation in our days here. Between lunch and supper the prison's authorities have seen fit to grant us counselling from hired psychologists as what they must think is a method of "correcting" us. I personally find it to be great sport. It is rare that I have someone purposefully trying to decipher the inner workings of my mind, and it's oddly thrilling to speak to someone approaching my intellectual equal. Annoyingly, some of my lapses occur within these meetings and I lose a unique opportunity to enjoy myself, but barring that it is the most fun that I have during my incarceration.

I have noticed, lastly, that there is a disparity between my own routine and that of the other prisoners. There appears to be a period of leisure during the late morning of which I am not a part. This should probably irk me but it doesn't, really. I find it is a confirmation of the fact that I am confined with the "special cases" only because I am a threat and must be dealt with in a fashion that supersedes that of the more common criminal element. The tragedy of it all is that this amnesia prevents me from knowing what I did to earn such treatment, and therefore from enjoying that.

Lastly, I have made attempts to observe my new neighbour. At present, it is difficult to ascertain anything worthwhile from my observations of my fellow inmate. I do not even know if this person is a man or a woman, because he/she is perpetually huddled in a corner, an amorphous shadow that does not seem to eat, sleep, breathe, or even move. It is a pathetic sight indeed. I wish there were more to discuss, but unfortunately this is the sum total of days' worth of activity. If something does happen, I will record it immediately. Fortunately, I have procured more paper recently, so I will be ready.