The forty-two-year-old Michael Denham woke up in what looked like bathtub. But it wasn’t a bathtub. It was an open clear container filled with transparent viscous fluid and he was completely submerged in it. He wiggled his arms and legs desperately trying to get out. He held his breath to not breathe in the liquid. Denham held his breath for as long as he could, but he was running out of time. There were somethings that a human couldn’t do despite will power. He had no choice but to breathe in the liquid and drown. Anything was better than being stuck in this vat of goo fighting for air. He breathed in.
He was standing in the middle of downtown New Geneva. A woman he didn’t recognise yelled “Michael, you need to fight!”
Denham opened his eyes again. He was back in the vat. He could feel the liquid in his lungs, but he was still alive. Denham forced it out of his lungs and jumped out of the tub. He felt heavy. Denham focused and looked around. There was a door which he was sure would be locked. The room resembled a bathroom except the weird bathtub type container was the only thing in it. His legs felt weak, but he got up and tried to open the door. As expected, it was locked.
The only thing that was lighting the room was one small white down light in the centre of the ceiling. Denham was naked, covered in cold slime that was no longer warm. He needed to think fast. Suddenly the door opened and half a dozen men in military tactical gear barged in. One of the men in black gas mask swiped his baton on Denham’s right knee. The pain woke him up. For a few moments the men seemed to overpower him. Denham didn’t recall anything that occurred in the next ten seconds. He was on his feet with all the men unconscious on the floor. The door was still open. He put on the pants of one of the men and quickly rushed out.
Things were getting harder by the second.
He exited the creepy room out to an endless hallway. It had the same sterile clinical appearance. He was exhausted but kept on pushing through. Suddenly, his neck was grabbed from behind by a large metallic clamp. Denham looked back to see what it was. It was a robotic abomination. He knew that there was no way of overpowering this thing. The mechanical monster dragged him back to the creepy room and slammed him back into the tub. Michael had no choice but to not fight it. The robot held him down with its left claw-like hand and with the other, a sharp long contraption flicked out. Denham knew that this was the end. He closed his eyes.
He could feel the sharp thing penetrate his temple. Michael braced for the inevitable. Somehow, he was still lucid even though he could feel the sharp rod in his brain. He opened his eyes for a second, the tub was red with his blood. The giant robot held him down tightly. After about a minute, Michael lost consciousness.
Nothing. Darkness. Silence.
Denham opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of downtown New Geneva. The sun was warm and comforting. He was dressed in jeans and T-shirt. The woman that he saw a minute ago was standing in front of him. It was Helen, his wife. She hugged him. The street was busy with hundreds of people walking in all directions. Denham was glad to see his wife. Amongst the crowd was one of the men in tactical gear staring right at him.