The skrriiiitch of sharp fingernail echoed on the metal wall behind me. I grimaced and swiped a hand across my crusty, gray overalls before pulling hair down to muffle the penetrating noise. I bent closer to the object in front of me and whispered silently.

“With perfection comes escape.”

Mentally, I traced the thin, curved line until it made a hard left at the dimple. Though I tried to suppress it, a momentary grin broke out on my face. The angle right there was sublime despite the difficulty that the dimple had created. I brushed my hair out of the way with a quick back-hand and picked up the fork. With utmost care, I extended my fingers with the sharp tine downward.

Skrriiiitch!

My hand twitched involuntarily and barely brushed the object with the tine. With a quiet sob, I swiped my hair downward again to muffle the noise. At the swipe, the fork nicked my forehead and a sharp pain bloomed. With hair over my ears, I ignored the pain and bent closer to examine the object.

Above the upper-right side of the curved line, a finger’s-breadth away, the surface was faintly marked. Another sob welled up from my innards and threatened to overcome my senses. I forced it down with great effort.

[is it ruined?]

My eyes frantically scanned the area. The curved line was unbroken. I sighed and licked my finger.

[salty. sour.]

My neck twitched as I gently rubbed the accidental mark with the tip of my wet finger. When I lifted my finger the mark was not gone, but it was dulled, and I sighed again.

Then I saw it. A boundary line jutted outward, away from the curved line and intersected with the dull mark. It was beautiful. My thoughts became captivated by the unexpected symmetry. To clear my vision, my hand swiped hair out of my eyes.

[the pattern shines with an light all its own! why didn’t i see this before? it just needs a…]

I reached out carefully with the fork to trace a ray of the pattern’s internal light. As I adjusted my grip, something sticky locked my finger’s movement, and my fork nudged the object again.

“GuhRAM!” I barked explosively as my head flailed involuntarily downward just once before I regained control of myself. Quickly, I scanned the room behind me to see if anyone had noticed. The dark monitor shifted its lens in my direction and paused. I shrunk down, kept my face toward the object in my hand and acted nonchalant.

[nothing wrong here. where is bad-cop?]

My head swiveled ever-so-slowly in the other direction. At the window I saw the backside of the light monitor’s frail structure and jerked my head away.

Skrriii-iiitch!

[focus]

I shifted the fork to face the object at an easier angle.

[three more lines, maybe 4. it’s time]

I opened my eyes wide to block out the periphery. All it would take is focus. [focus] My hand edged closer, and when the tine touched, it left a thin, crimson mark. I blinked at the unexpected color. The red shone with a deceptive light. It was muddy and beneath it the dimpled surface bled through orangely.

“No!” I said quietly, but still too loud. With my finger I tried to brush the red away, but in its place was a larger and thicker red mark. There was a footstep behind me. Cradling the object carefully in my left palm, I turned my head. The dark monitor was there with that implacable expression of boredom. It nodded over my head, and I turned the other way. The light monitor approached with lazy, swaying hips in its normal manner.

[i’ve done it now. play cool.]

I smiled toothily and then dialed it back a notch when I realized that it was maybe a bit too much.

“Uh, how are you today?” I asked. My left hand slowly circled behind me to keep the object out of its sight. The light monitor’s lens was dull and its voicebox crackled.

“What did you do, Lindy?”

[how did it know my name?]

I stammered, “nothing?”

Skrriii-iiitch!

I looked to my left and hoped Arthur would distract the monitors. He lifted his massive fingernail from the table in front of him and gazed at it intently.

[is he sharpening that for an escape weapon?] The thought ricocheted around my noggin for a moment, and I decided it was utter foolishness.

That was when I felt the object disappear from my hand.

“Nooo! Give it back!” I wailed. There could be no coming back from a loss of the object or from the wailing for that matter. My head swiveled rapidly toward the dark monitor who now held hostage my perfect escape plan.

[how had it become the bad cop?]

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” said the dark monitor. Its lens shifted toward the receptacle in its hand.

“I’m clean enough!” I blurted. “These are not the droids you’re looking for!”

The dark monitor chuckled dryly and nodded at the light monitor. “We need to rotate the movies more often.” It held out the receptacle.

I gritted my teeth and my eyes slid over the beautiful shape of the object in the other hand. I could see the curved line beckoning me. My Shangri-La, even through the red marks.

[no! i am so close!]

I could see that the red mark had shifted and become attached to the dark monitor’s hand. Without thinking, I chuckled, and when I saw the depth of its infection, I laughed even harder. In a moment I was guffawing chaotically with my head thrown back.

[you can’t fight the infection!]

My head flung itself forward as if it had been tapped by a wallaby holding a lucky rabbit’s foot. I wasn’t laughing now. Then I felt the light monitor’s clamper force my head back. With its other clamper, it pried my chattering teeth open and the dark monitor emptied its receptacle into my mouth.

My eyes bulged with disbelief. How did the monitors switch roles so quickly?

Darkness crept in from the edges, and I sighed, then slumped.

[try agam-moro]

It was dark and I felt a gentle swaying. Then it was dark. And silent.