Rubberman's Cage Read online

  He could hear the others getting dressed and the footsteps of Rubberman in the ceiling grating. When everyone was dressed, and maybe passed a silent inspection from above, the light over the door lit up green as it unlocked. He walked out and joined the others in returning to the sleeping room.

  The floor was damp. Not really wet, so much as recently dried. “Did...did the room get cleaned while we were in the shower?”

  “Everything got cleaned,” Blue said. “I kind of wonder why we just don't get clean while in this room, but whatever.”

  “I don't wanna see you nekkid, and you sure don't wanna see me!” Joints said.

  Traces of memories came back to Spots. Unpleasant ones, but he couldn't really identify what memories they were. “Now what?” Spots asked. Blue reached out and pointed to a door moments before it unlocked, and the green light above it illuminated. “Exercise!”

  “Yup,” Joints bemoaned, “my favourite part of the day.” Joints stretched out a little as he headed for the door, trying to limber up. “I tried to skip out on this one day. I kind of expected to be shocked, but I had a little bit of hope that I could be spared.”

  Lenth scoffed. “Yeah, and got the whole lot of us zapped!” He turned to Spots to explain. “If you don't do what you're supposed to, you get zapped, and if you're not tethered, or on other zap-happy stuff, the zap just gets you through the floor.”

  “Which gets everyone. I...yes, I know,” Spots said quietly, eyes scanning the rating above. “Yes. Getting zapped. I know about it.” Spots nodded, following the others through the door.

  “It's not like it's hard to avoid zaps,” Joints called back from the front. “Once you get to know the expectations, they're pretty easy to follow. I was kind of pushing my luck.”

  They arrived in a room about the size of the sleeping room. The floor and walls also had the warm, damp-ish feel of being recently cleaned.

  Waiting in this room were four exercise stations. Each had a bench to lie down on. They were attached by large, bare metal arms that reached down from the ceiling. Under the bench sat an idle treadmill. On the floor at roughly arm’s length on either side sat a handle attached to the floor. A wide bar loomed overhead, and some kind of bulky headset dangled near it.

  Spots followed the example of the others and straddled across a bench and locked a wrist into the attached tether. After that, he reached for the headset. The other Brothers all strapped them onto their heads and over their eyes.

  Spots held his headset in his hands. It was rather light considering its bulk. Rubber fittings braced it around the eyes, but left a gap on the bottom edge. He pulled the straps around his head and secured it.

  The inside of the headset lit up, startling Spots. He yelped and heard a chuckle from Joints. “Sorry, I guess we should have warned you!”

  A simplistic illustration of a person lying down appeared. Spots heard the others lying down, so he followed suit.

  The figure then reached down to the handles on either side on the floor and lifted them up, and back down. The others were already doing the exercise. Spots obeyed and pulled the handles up. He could faintly hear and feel the metal rails that dragged out of the floor as he pulled. The handles had more weight than could be seen on the surface, but they were manageable.

  The image in his headset blinked a little, and a small buzz accompanied it. “Pick up the pace!” Joints warned. “Don’t earn yourself a zap!”

  Spots lifted the handles, trying to match the rhythm of the little illustration. It felt good for the muscles, but around the tenth repetition or so, Spots asked, “So...how long does this go on?”

  “Fifty. Look in the upper part there,” Lenth answered.

  A series of little hollow circles filled in, each one for every repetition. Numerals counted up beside those, and in this way, all the Brothers knew how numbers looked when not spoken. By the end of fifty, everyone was about ready for that to be done.

  The image in the headset changed as the overhead bar descended into place, attached in the ceiling much in the same way as the handles below. The ceiling was a grate, which would have let them see the bulky metal boxes that the overhead bar's supports slid out from—if they weren't wearing their headsets. Spots reached up and groped for the bar. A fresh set of fifty hollow circles appeared. Everyone obeyed the little figure in the displays and did fifty bench presses.

  The footsteps of Rubberman were heard overhead, but no one seemed to feel the need to comment on it.

  The image changed again, and showed the bench moving into an upright position. “Be ready!” Joints warned. Sure enough, spots found himself being propped up into standing position by the bench. The bench-press bar positioned itself in front to hold on to as the bench got out of the way, the arms pulling it into the ceiling.

  The treadmill started slowly, and the figure in the headset's screen started running. Soon the treadmill had gained enough speed to force everyone to jog.

  The circle in the top of the display were replaced with a slightly larger singular pie chart of progress. The rest of the display was filled with a flowing display of soft colours, shifting around and melting into one another.

  “Ooh, pretty,” Spots said.

  “Enjoy it while you...while you're not sick of it. Now and then, it shows other things,” Blue said.

  Yes, it did look familiar. He remembered once: he'd hurt his ankle, and a visor showed him that he could rest it. Bits of memory were always coming back. These Brothers were new to him, but he knew of Brothers. He definitely remembered other Brothers...but...still so foggy. There was something else that felt different. “So,” Spots finally asked, “Tell me about that guy in the ceiling?”

  Blue gave a short laugh. “You don't know?”

  “I...can you just refresh my memory?” Spots asked.

  After brief moment while the other three imagined the possibility of anyone not knowing Rubberman, Joints nodded with a short grunt. “That's Rubberman! He...he watches us.”

  “All right,” Spots said with an uncertain tone, “Why?”

  “Ha!” Blue said, “To zap us when we don't do what we're supposed to!”

  “Oh, don't be like that,” came Joints' wizened voice. “It keeps us motivated, that's for sure, but it seems to me we only do the things we need. Eat, sleep, exercise, get the stink sprayed off of us, and work.”

  “Sleep.” Lenth snorted. “Now and then, we sleep deeper than other times. Do we thank Rubberman when that happens?”

  A strange quiet ended all conversation as they continued jogging. Spots didn't understand about the 'deeper sleep', but he could tell it was a touchy subject for some reason.

  Eventually, Spots brought up another question. “He doesn't talk?” Spots asked. “It seems to me that he...he talks sometimes.”

  “Nope!” Joints said with a chuckle. “Never has, probably never will. I don't think he can!”

  Spots could remember Rubberman talking. Yelling. Making unsettling sounds when...when something bad happened. It was all so muddy in his head. Things weren't all matching up. It must be his head.

  “Joints, you mentioned 'work'? That's the only one I haven't done yet. What is it?”

  “Work,” Lenth said gruffly. Almost a snap.

  “Yes, what kind of work?”

  “Tedious work.” Blue added, “It's been known to change, but for a long time now, it's been our usual—we open up a thing, take out a piece, take out a dirty piece, clean it, and put it all back together.”

  “What is it for?”

  “For Rubberman!” Blue said. “We don't know what it is, and it doesn't matter.”

  When the progress meter was full, the treadmill slowed down to a standstill, and the tether cuff dropped off the Brothers' wrists. A short walk to another room revealed four alcoves.

  Each alcove sported a seat, a small workbench attached to the back and side of the alcove, and a tether cuff.

  Lenth wordlessly sat down at one and put on his cuff.

  �
��Is something wrong?” Spots asked Blue and Joints quietly.

  Joints sighed and rested a hand on Spots' shoulder. “You see, it seems you're only here because one of our Brothers, Slim, is gone. Lenth is worrying about him the most. Lenth and Slim were close.” Joints shrugged. “Not to say that I don't worry, but there's nothing any of us can do about it. Slim had some kind of problem, stopped breathing, and the next morning, he was gone, and you were here.”

  Spots looked over at Lenth and gave a small nod “I...I see. Lenth? Lenth, I...”

  Lenth held his untethered hand back towards Spots. “Forget it. Can we just all shut up and get to work? I can't get started until everyone's tethered in.”

  Once seated and tethered in, Spots found that he could not see the others in their alcoves. Directly in front of him was a clear plastic wall, with gloves attached so one could reach inside without actually touching anything inside with his skin.

  “What do I...?” Before he could finish the question, the alcove answered.

  A section of the back wall lit up, revealing itself to be a display of sorts. At the same time, the work bench slid open, revealing a large, bulky cylinder, about forty or more centimetres wide and sixty tall. Not far from its top, there was a seam all the way around it. Beside it was a brush with hard bristles.

  The display showed the top half of the cylinder turning around and coming off. A few round pieces came out, the last of which was thick and dark. The brush scrubbed it with the help of some water. Spots only now noticed that there was a nozzle and a button in the alcove, to the side. The round piece in the display was now white, and it all went back together.

  Spots copied the looping display. Unscrew the top part, take out two pieces, pull out the thick black one, and scrub. Bits of black flaked off onto the bottom of the alcove. He pressed the button over on the side and some water came out. He got the brush and the black disk wet, and found it softened up a little. Scrubbing seemed slightly more productive now.

  “Am I doing something wrong?” Spots called out.

  “Why? Are you cleaning the black piece?” came Blue's voice.

  “Yeah, but it's not cleaning as fast as the pictures show.”

  “Nope, I wish. Just keep at it. You're using some water, right? It'll get white eventually.”

  “Oh...Okay, yeah, I'm using the water. But what is all this work for? What's the point?”

  “Work! And you're doing it,” Blue said with a small degree of pride.

  Spots tried to rationalize the results, but deeper contemplation was interrupted by a little electric jolt from the cuff.

  “Ow!” The pain was gone as quickly as it came. It wasn't so bad, but it was unsettling. And familiar.

  Joints chuckled softly. “That means you gotta stop dawdling! Go, go, go! I'm working on the same one as yesterday; they can take a while!”

  Spots resumed scrubbing. Yeah, okay, there was a little patch that looked a bit lighter.

  “When are we done?”

  Lenth answered. “See numbers in the top corner? When it says eight, dotty-thing, oh, oh, dotty thing, oh, oh.”

  Spots watched the numbers on the left count up, one, by one...“That's going to be quite a while...”

  “Yes,” Lenth said dryly.

  Spots wasn't winning any points with Lenth today. Spots had 'replaced' his best friend, which made for a really bad starting point. Spots got back to work as hard as he could, give or take the occasional fumble.

  Eventually, the timer hit eight oh oh, oh oh, and everyone's cuffs fell off. The four Brothers got up from the work benches. Lenth was first to the door, which for whatever reason, had not yet been unlocked by the Rubberman. Blue and Joints turned to Spots, taking advantage of the delay to chat.

  “You got the hang of it?” Joints asked Spots.

  “Yeah, yeah. I found a rhythm to it. I got going kinda fast.”

  Lenth huffed, still facing the closed door, leaning his forehead on it. “Slim was fast,” he mumbled.

  Everyone was quiet for a while, staring at Lenth. The habitat's silence took the kind of control that only true silence can.

  “Lenth...” Joints said, “You better not be blaming Spots for Slim going away, it wasn't his idea to—”

  “Who do I blame then?” Lenth seethed.

  As if on cue, the footsteps of Rubberman along the overhead grating got closer. Lenth kept his head down and thought of the wordless spectre above. “Blame...even if blame was justified, what would the blame matter?”

  The Rubberman pulled something up from the top of the door, unlocking it, and the Brothers were soon again in the main room where the beds were.

  Lenth shuffled to the middle of the room and looked up through the grate to the Rubberman. “Rubberman?”

  “What are you doing, Lenth?” Blue asked. “It's not like he'll answer you.” Lenth ignored Blue, and continued to query Rubberman.

  “Rubberman, did you create us? We all talked about it, and none of us created us, so I figure it had to be you.”

  No one was really expecting an answer, but all the Brothers looked up at Rubberman nonetheless.

  “You're just going to get us all zapped,” Joints moaned.

  Rubberman looked down to them, and placed his hand at the side of his head. A few moments later, he took his hand down, and did something unimaginable. He took his rubber hand off, and a man-like hand rose from the stump, all in one smooth motion. Rubberman placed this fleshy hand by his head, and held it there for a while.

  The Brothers all held their breath and stared. What did it mean? Did he pull the flesh of the men from his mind? Oh, why wouldn't he simply speak?

  Rubberman reluctantly put his rubber hand back on and walked away.

  Chapter Three

  A Hole

  Spots got used to the routine fairly quickly. In a dozen sleeps or so, it would be tough to tell that he hadn’t been at it as long as the others. Not that life was complex.

  Things were always the same. Once the others had told Spots all the stories they had to tell, such as the time Blue held a mouthful of food in his mouth until Lenth tickled him, resulting in a mess that lingered in the exercise room, on Blue, and on Lenth until the next morning's shower.

  Or the time Slim spent days imitating Joints (by doing things like walking a little slower, rubbing his elbow, stretching his leg) before Joints noticed anything was going on.

  But the supply of amusing memories was drying up, and standard issue monotony was taking firm grip again.

  And that was okay. That was normal.

  Lenth had warmed up to Spots, more or less, but there were times that Spots noticed Lenth looking at him oddly, or looking into nowhere with troubled eyes. The loss of Slim was still very strong for Spots' Brothers, but for Lenth, it stung the most.

  Sleep, wake, wash, eat, exercise, work, repeat. That was okay. That was the depth and breadth of reality.

  --Until there opened a hole. While the Brothers were idly chatting in the near-dark, waiting for sleep to come, a soft but gritty scraping came from above. At first, they assumed it was Rubberman, but no. There were no footsteps, and even in this darkness, incomplete darkness, Rubberman would have been visible, if one looked carefully.

  The scraping sound came again, and the attention of all four Brothers locked on to a spot above where Rubberman walked. Rubberman's ceiling.

  One more scrape, shorter and more decisive. That spot in the ceiling moved up and aside, revealing a darker darkness. Reality was broken. A void on the upper crust of the known universe.

  The Brothers dared not speak. Dared not move, aside from nervous glances at each other.

  A shuffling sound came from this darker darkness. Then, a voice.

  “Oh. Hmm.” A man that looked a lot like the Brothers poked his head down from the darkness and looked around.

  Lenth was the one to find his courage first. “Who are you? Are you a Brother?”

  “What?” The stranger peered down to the Brothers, leanin
g his head back and forth, as if it would make it easier to see through the grating that Rubberman walks on. “A Brother?”

  “Are you where Slim is?” Lenth asked. “Maybe you're where Spots came from?”

  The stranger furrowed his brow. “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just looking for the 'females'. Are there females in there?”

  The dumbfounded looks on the Brothers' faces told the stranger all he needed to know. “Oh, forget you guys. Bye.” The stranger disappeared into the darkness again, then one more scrape closed the hole, as if nothing ever happened.

  Spots turned to Joints, looking for the wisdom of age. “What's a female?”

  Joints only shrugged.

  Lenth jumped off his bed and forcefully pointed to where the world had opened, yanking on his tether. “What was all that about? What was that? SOMEONE—”

  “Hush, idiot!” Joints said. As if on cue, a footstep was heard. Lenth was back in bed before the next footstep was heard. The Brothers were all silent, all eyes shut except for Lenth's, who glared up as Rubberman came and paced about a little.

  Rubberman didn't look up to where the hole had opened. Rubberman had no idea; he had only come because of Lenth yelling.

  There had been a hole in the world, and Rubberman had no idea. It didn't seem like something that should be possible.

  Rubberman looked down at Lenth. At least, it seemed like it. It was always hard to tell where Rubberman's eyes were aimed. Lenth pinched his brow and shook his head.

  “I had a nightmare, I think.”

  Blue played along. “Well, shut up about it. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  Lenth grunted at Blue and settled in again. After a few moments of silence, Rubberman seemed content with the situation and went back to wherever he came from, with a quiet 'clunk' to mark his exit.

  The morning came like it always did. The spot on Rubberman's ceiling looked just as it always did.