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My room has no windows. It's a small thing, but it bothers me. I've never lived in a room without windows before. After I was old enough to choose my own accommodations, I would often make rash decisions based on the view out of the bedroom window. I never ever drew the curtains, and my very favorite bedroom was the one where the window was low enough I could push my bed right up next to it. Every morning I opened my eyes to the trees, and paths, and early-morning joggers wreathed in mist, in the park behind my building. I would lay there, just watching for awhile, before stumbling out of bed, into my own shorts and running shoes, and heading out to join them. That was the park where I saw...
I still wake up early. I know I do, even though I can't see the early morning light or go for a jog. All the lights at the Institute are on timers; on at prescribed times, off at prescribed times. I always wake up before the lights come on. It's never completely dark, there is always the Institute issued night-light by the door, but there's nothing to look at and nowhere to go jogging—and my running shoes are in a plastic bag in a plastic bin anyway. So I stay in bed and stare at nothing, thinking about winding tree-lined paths and curling grasping mist, always thicker and more mysterious in my imagination than it ever was in reality.
Food at the Institute is as prescribed as everything else. Breakfast rotates between oatmeal, cream of wheat, and amaranth, with a small cup of orange or apple juice, and grapes, apples, or tinned pineapple. When I asked the security nurse, they told me that Institute breakfasts are designed to provide optimal variation while delivering maximum nutrition. I think they are designed to keep us alive while providing the minimum stimulation necessary to prevent us from going crazy due to the sheer sameness of it all. I think that is the Institute's entire goal really. I think the people who built the Institute confuse feeling with violence and numbness with peace. I think a lot of things; there isn't really anything else to do here.
Ten minutes after the lights come on a security nurse brings in breakfast on a tray. If I'm not clean and dressed I am also given a lecture on good habits and the benefit of routine to the human psyche. If I dress myself and then get back into bed and pull the covers up to my neck I receive a lecture on the importance of openness and transparency to a functional society. I have not yet discovered a way to elicit a third lecture.
Then I am left alone with my tray. I am expected to eat everything on it and then place the tray, cutlery, and dishes into the labeled receptacles cut into the corridor wall two doors down from mine on the opposite side. In addition to the waste receptacle there are individual slots for each different size and shape of dish and utensil, so clearing away one's waste becomes a sorting activity. I asked a security nurse about this once, and they told me "categorizing and sorting common objects has well-researched cognitive benefits." Or it's just easier to wash the dishes if they come in pre-sorted.
I have discovered that depositing uneaten food items in the waste receptacle leads to a lecture on proper eating habits for optimal health, delivered with my lunch tray. As does leaving uneaten food most places in my room. Intentionally placing dishes or cutlery into the incorrect receptacle results in a lecture on the importance of following directions faithfully the first time you do it, the importance of pro-social behavior to a well-functioning society the second time, and an appointment with the ward doctor the third. Despite the small pleasure of being able to elicit constantly changing behaviors I have not tried it a fourth time. I do not want to visit the advanced studies lab and I am quite intelligent enough to recognize escalating behavior when I see it.
The morning is given over to what the Institute calls "productive endeavors" and I call "housework." Most of it is individual work done together, where a group of residents work through some basic task of environmental maintenance like cleaning or rearranging the Communal Recreation Area or planting seasonal flowers in the Communal Garden. These tasks generate a sense of self-worth rooted in productive labor and feelings of satisfaction in a job well done. Or so I am told. I am glad of the physical exertion although I do not feel my sense of self-worth increasing, and my satisfaction has more to do with the steady passage of time than the quality of my work. Probably the institute intends me to focus my thoughts on the task at hand and how it improves the lives of all Institute residents in some small way, but I usually spend the time thinking about the myriad things about which the Institute is mistaken:
The proper design of a therapeutic environment.
The characteristics necessary for meaningful work.
The meaning of the term “variation.”
The meaning of the term “optimal.”
How societies function.
What a society is.
The definition of pro-social behavior.
What constitutes problematic behavior.
An exhaustive list would be impossible to compile, which is not to say that I haven’t tried.
Lunch proceeds along the same lines as breakfast, except that the main course is either a peanut butter, cheese and chutney, or egg salad sandwich. The period directly following the meal is given over to Individual Therapeutic Pursuits, in my case relaxation cassettes. This is my favorite part of the day. I have discovered that I am allowed a great deal of leeway in my behavior as long as I am wearing Institute approved headphones. I do not find the cassettes to have any sort of relaxing effect on my psyche. Obviously I do not share this with the security nurse. The security nurses do not appear to know what is on the cassettes, or even the capacity of a cassette tape. I take advantage of this and extend my Individual Therapeutic Time, either by listening to each side twice or simply leaving the headphones on my ears for a time, after I have been given the days relaxing music, candle, and bath. I use that time to think about what the cassettes are teaching me, to think about the layout of the institute, to plan my future and do my best to remember my past.
When I have finished my Individual Therapeutic Activity, I have “free time” to pursue Individual Recreational Activities of a Physical Nature. In theory I may use this time however I wish, as long as I am not sedentary, however in practice I am limited by my attire and treatment plan. I have not been issued appropriate clothing or footwear for anything more strenuous than strolling about the grounds, so that has mostly what I do. Through trial and error I have discovered that engaging in gentle stretching, such as I used to do to warm up before an early-morning jog, is acceptable, but anything more vigorous will come up in my twice-monthly Treatment Evaluation Meeting as evidence of excessive aggressiveness. I believe the Institute is mistaken in seeing a connection between vigorous physical activity and excessive aggression, however it has already been established that I think the Institute is mistaken about most things.
I have learned in my twice monthly Treatment Plan Meetings, that the goal for my treatment regimen is to curb over-aggressive impulses and instill a well-adjusted attitude and spectrum of pro-social behaviors. I do not feel that I am overly aggressive, or have behavior problems of any sort. I also do not think my therapy regimen is having what the Institute would consider a positive effect towards achieving these goals. Quite the opposite. I am, however, intelligent enough to keep my mouth shut.
The period of time directly before supper is reserved for Group Therapeutic Activities. Much of what we do would, in another context, be referred to as “trust exercises.” They aim to “build our interpersonal skills,” apparently without requiring us to use any. During these sessions I like to guess what supper will be. I have discovered that sharing my guesses with another patient means I receive a lecture on the difference between public and private thoughts with my food. Sometimes I share my guesses anyway, otherwise I spend the time thinking decidedly antisocial thoughts about the Institute.
Supper represents the only actually interesting part of Institute life outside of the relaxation cassettes, which have recently become very interesting indeed. Supper consists of one vegetable (peas, carrot, or broccoli), one dessert (chocolate chip, raisin, or oatmeal cookie), and one hot entrée which is different every night. Every. Single. Night. I don’t understand how that is possible. I have been here quite awhile and there has yet to be a repeat. Perhaps it is meant to hold our focus by being the only point of actual change in out routine (whatever is said about the breakfast and lunch rotations). If so, it succeeds enormously, even as it is entirely baffling. Despite the relaxation cassettes now taking most of my processing time and energy, I still set aside a little bit of time each day to wonder what supper will be.
Between supper and lights out we are expected to stay in our rooms engaging in Individual Leisure Activities, which consist of reading, watching, or listening to something. I have attempted to acquire materials for drawing, writing, or simple crafts, however while any security nurse I submit a request to indicates that whatever I requested will be delivered to my room, nothing ever appears. The selection of media to read, listen to, or watch, is both apparently endless, and possessing an unsurprising lack of variation. We are never required to demonstrate understanding of the media we consume, as long as I hold a book and turn a page every now and then, I can think about whatever I like. I use the time to think about the relaxation cassettes again, committing the instructions to memory, memorizing the layout of the institute, and pushing my memories of my life before the Institute as much as I can. I am having some luck with all three tasks, I can only hope it will be enough. I hate the Institute with a fiery passion, and will do anything it takes to get out.