The Red Sector

I was standing.

Not moving a degree up or down, just level at Zero Degrees. My eyes scanned what was in front of them—a horizon that wasn’t a place I knew. “I don’t know this place,” but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “I know.”

I scanned to the furthest point on the left, then back to the right, as far as I could go, without turning my head. I felt a breeze. It hit the back of my bare neck and then my bare... feet?

“Am I alive?” I asked.

From behind me, a voice answered: “Or did I die already?”

My eyes began to close. This wasn’t me engaging in the act; they moved on their own. As they shut, red came from the top. I gasped but didn’t move. I could see the cold air now with each breath I took, even though my skin was still warm.

Where there should have been the black or gray of my eyelids, there was only reds. A darker red at the bottom, a brighter at the top. I couldn't resist. My eyelids completed their journey into a complete darkness that wasn’t dark at all. It was red.

It moved as if it had a life of its own, filled with particles like there was life in this red world. The lines started straightening, moving left, then right, then rippling across the view. Brighter red mixed with darker red, creating a beautiful hue.

In the distance, I saw a speck. It was a single, stubborn bit of light—a corrupted pixel that moved slowly like the particles sliding across the red, yet stayed stationary at the same time. I knew I wasn’t really in this red world. I could still feel my feet on the floor of the room. I could still feel the cool air on the back of my neck. I looked back for that dot in the distance, but it was gone, disappearing into the red. It was mesmerizing. It was extremely calming.

Then, the humming turned on.

It started in front of me and moved in a circular motion, left to right, going so fast that it appeared to be all around me. It was the high-pitched whine of spinning platters, a 4-terabyte heart struggling to stay at speed.

“Yes,” I said. “The hard drive.”

I tried to move, but I couldn’t.

In the red, a lighter shade—almost orange—appeared as a shadow. It moved in a jagged way. It had a smile that disappeared and returned in a rhythmic loop. Suddenly, my eyelids were being pried apart. The red world turned into a blinding white, as I tried mightily to keep them closed.

I saw hands. Or claws. A laugh came up, followed by a screeching sound like metal on metal.

The orange head peeked over the opening it had created.

“You’re always on the reflection loop,” it said. “ALWAYS.”

I fell backwards. I felt my arms flailing as my back hit the ground, followed by my head. I lay temporarily, exhausted, and very much out of my own body. I wasn't unconscious; I was still awake.

When my eyes opened, the room was dark. I was back where I was, but time had changed. Darkness had snuck in. In the distance, outside the room, I heard a voice:

“Who’s in there?”

I was startled, yet I felt completely safe.

The door opened. A silhouette stood there, drawn in deep charcoal blacks and sharp, forensic whites against the light from the hall. I looked up at them from the floor and yelled, “Hello!”

It came out as a hollow echo, like a recording played through a tiny speaker.

The light flickered on, burning away the shadows. A face appeared, etched in stark detail. A tear welled up in the corner of my eye as they looked down at me and said:

“How did you get in here?”