text: Forbidden Expedition - a Covert Exploration The air is dense with silence. My energy is focussed on resisting the soothing draw of mesmerisation, a natural by-product of rhythmic breathing: breathe in, hold for three, pause, breathe out, repeat. When my focus fades and my thoughts slip into the pre-sleep relaxed unconscious state, I pinch the tender skin on my stomach, jolting me back to consciousness. Mindful of the night vision camers, I keep my eyes closed tight, ignoring the tiny electric green glint that flashes in the top corner, angled towards my pillow. The four walls that encase me are the blackest black, pure darkness, intentionally designed to make the lure of sleep irresistible. My eyelids are beckoned towards heavy relaxation, my body starts to succumb towards dreamland. The Waiting Sometimes I am no match for the instinctive need to sleep. The night time feels like grasping with bare hands at water flowing from a tap, my body desperately dehydrated, but unable to contain the liquid for longer than mere moments. Finally, and quite possibly in the nick of time, I hear the much-awaited swish-swish-swish telltale sign of the 2am bed-check. The owner of the sound is one of the watchdogs, wearing plastic rain pants to keep warm and dry. The rhythmic swish of nylon rubbing, back-and-forth, reminds me of the feel of ski pants, of snowflakes falling on my upturned nose and gracing my outstretched tongue; of sitting on a chairlift that invites a biting wind to frost my cheeks. Adrenaline jolts through my body, setting my nerves on edge. I envision my heart beating clean through the left pocket on my smooth cotton pajama shirt. Carefully, I regulate my breathing, adding a little extra intensity to the exhale, and wait for the glow of the flashlight to cease. And it does, which signals the beginning of counting, first in English, then French, followed by Russian and German. As I reach the last 100, I begin slithering, ever so slowly, to the ridge of the bed. The Escape ... With the pillow nestled in the place of my head, I army crawl across the floor, carrying my full weight on forearms and toes. My notebook and pen, nestled into the crevice of my left pant pocket, gently bump up-and-down with each jerk forward from my left knee. Excitement wrestles fear to the ground, and I just know that the harshest of punishments is outweighed by the probative value of my late-night exploration. Darkness, something that used to be a catalyst for fear, brings comfort because it heightens my senses and aids in camouflage. The ring finger on my right-hand cruises over the tell-tale notch in the tile floor, signaling the end of the hallway and the beginning of my entry into the Realm. Carefully, I pluck out two tiles and ease my body into a tunnel of darkness. For the briefest of seconds, I experience an antonymic state - I enter the Realm exactly as I exit the Base. Mindful of precious resources and the unstoppable clock of time, I greedily reach for my stash: metal blue flashlight, what remains of a snickers bar, and a fleece-lined vest. Like Pavlov’s dog, my body loosens and my mind lasers on the insurmountable task before me: satiate my insatiable curiosity to discover the gems and hidden truths. Only revealable in the Realm. A self-satisfied grin that rivals the one renoun by the Cheshire Cat overtakes my horse-like features; my shoulders square back in pride. By golly, it seems that 6-months of repetition and rigorous training are paying off! ... A flash, quick like a streak of lightening, flicks between the mountainous crevices that form the circumference for my surroundings - a clue to wrap it up, pack it up, and scurry back to Base. The rising sun is my clue that what felt like mere seconds accounts for the passage of 180 minutes, and ergo, high time for me to get my tushy back to base, before ... my body stiffens at the prospect of being found out. Leaving the Base, much less exploration, is forbidden. And violators are ixnayed from the pack, out of necessity and with good reason. Because conformity and compliance keep us safe, alive. “Putting out a match with a fire hose” gnarls a disgruntled voice from deep within my unconscious - this one spouts my Id, the “Inner Sinner” that entices me to take risks and be dangerous. In reflexive response, my right foot juts up-and-down, like that of a petulant child building to a tantrum. A mental photo of my Inner Sinner, clad in black, clenches her fists with crossed arms and mutters “not fair”. In a sugary sweet retort, my alter ego, dubbed “Sweet Susie-Q” singsongs “life ain’t fair, sugar plum”. My equilibrium is mollified, maybe because I have lived too long to believe that one can exist in a panacea of happiness; satisfaction is the result of competing forces. The strangely pleasant sensation of sweat trickling from my suprasternal notch, straight down, through my breastbone and into my navel, an innie no doubt, draws me to the present. Daylight is winning the battle of darkness, and the crew will be rising straight away. As I trot back to the slot of entry, I emerge into the Base, simultaneous with my exit from the Realm. And I accept that my insatiable curiosity is my dark abyss. Like a record player set to loop, my mind reels to the cause of reality, which I best understand by cataloguing time into the “then” and the “now”. Back then ...Contrary to what is labeled within the name, the frightening impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic was felt most keenly during 2020, with the effects malingering clean through 2021, eventually fading away, like a fart in the wind, by the Fall of 2022. During the pandemic, humanity took cover indoors and watched as the virus reigned a war of uncertainty and terror. And, true to form, people developed an immunity to the scandalous effects of the pandemic. Most moved forward and recalled this era when casually recalling the path traveled to arrive at the present. This time serves as a reminder that time heals wounds - no matter the scandal or atrocity, life moves on. By 2023 civilization had returned to the fast-paced living pre-pandemic, lingering effects were largely felt by those that suffered tangible loss and didn’t want to return to the 9-5 grind. It seemed that the pandemic came and went, nothing more than another accurate predication by the Simpsons, a prolific television series that is both idiot and savant. Fast forward five years, and women were failing to conceive, monogamy was a word known for its dice and rules (a.k.a. a boardgame), and individuality was a thing of the past. Women were the same height and weight and came in a variety of blonde, brunette and redhead, the same for men. Plagues, viruses, STI’s, and radiation took over towns, cities, countries, and then continents, leaving the lucky 100 - I was collected and tagged at number 99. We forged on berries and crafted an underground habitat - leaving the sanctuary is prohibited because rules are made to accommodate the lowest common denominator. I slung my exhausted body into my single bed and prayed for a few moments of shut eye before my hallmates roused for morning breakfast and assignments. As I drift between the sacred state of lucidity and sleep, Susie-Q tut-tuts about the risks associated with my selfish ways, reminding me that I might be responsible for the extinction of the human being. The last thing I remember, before I am taken over by sleep, is Inner Sinner, urging me forwards, promising awards and recognition for saving humanity - for becoming a true rival to Noah’s Ark. Self-satisfaction creates a feeling of euphoria ... I love it, and pretty much nothing is going to keep me from continuing my exploration and research. Contest 247: Prompt - The Great Unknown Story: A world where exploration is forbidden - a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy her innate curiosity. Author: Elysa