Camp 22: A Short Story
wan’s world came into focus as his eyes widened as far as they would go. The burning agony behind his eye sockets prevented him from fully opening them.
Now back in his cell, the guards must have thrown him in while unconscious. Kwan crept his arms up to his head to massage his temples. His skull throbbed like a second heartbeat, so powerful his cranium threatened to cave with every pulse. Eventually, he gathered enough energy to pull himself up into a sitting position. His muscles ached, imitating the pain endured after miles of running.
Kwan’s breathing was shallow. He strained his eyes open a little further and regarded his small, damp dwelling. A bulb hung from the ceiling which poorly lit his cell. Unsteadily on his feet Kwan walked to …show more content…
the sink and lifted his head to the tap. Gushing water filled Kwan’s mouth. He gulped mouthful after mouthful until he was too bloated to drink anymore. He put his hands under the tap and chucked cool water over his heated face and body. Kwan knew to be grateful for his access to water, not all prisoners received the same luxury. A sink had been fitted in his cell only a few months ago which he was sure had something to do with the new experiment they were conducting, the Kanzius machine. They’d installed the sink around the same time they had started bullying Kwan into the torturous contraption.
He didn’t trust the people who controlled this place. They could put anything in the water systems, he’d be naïve to think otherwise. Kwan had quickly learnt if he didn’t drink from the tap, he didn’t drink at all.
Stumbling with caution back to his camp bed, the thin metal frame released a low screech as Kwan placed his body weight on it, creaking from every movement. Gently, he propped himself up against the wall, still suffering tremendous pain that vibrated through his whole body.
His heart raced as his head pulsated, his lips breaking into blisters. A hammering pain from the Kanzius machine was a common symptom but never this intense. Breaking out into a fever, the sweat clung to his body and his stomach expelled thick bile. He had no doubt in this mind that he was suffering from radiation toxicity and if so the sweet release of death was near. Sick bastards.
They had put him through enough over the years, the chips, the torment and the experiments.
The gravity of his growing capabilities aroused his thoughts. Maybe they now obtained the results they wanted, his feelings of their intentions gathered strength. How long until he was deemed expendable? Surely this fate was inevitable? Eventually, he would simply be a loose end destined to be amputated.
If a person was condemned to Camp 22, nobody missed them. Those who once loved them wouldn’t know if they were dead or alive. Camp 22 held no secrets when boasting one of the highest death rates of inmates in North Korea, maybe even the world. Kwan was relieved his life would soon be over. No human should sustain this existence.
Committing suicide was against Kwan’s morals. Even if he did contemplate the thought, the cells were heavily watched with cameras. Prisoners weren’t allowed to get off that easy.
Kwan smiled at the idea that death was near. No more pain. No more suffering. His only regret was he couldn’t avenge his anguish by massacring all those who worked here. For years, he’d schemed plans to place justice into his own hands and break free.
They had made his mind stronger, evolved, but they also had complete control over him. Camp 22 had strict totalitarian …show more content…
regulations. All prisoners were kept in separate cells. Months had passed since Kwan had seen another inmate, which was only due to an experiment. Separating the inmates made an uprising or rebellion impossible and with no communication the prisoners would feel isolated, depressed. It’s the state they want you in.
The best possible results for the tests came from dissociated and submissive behaviour Kwan had learned. They beat the prisoners and put them through mental and physical torture.
Water board sessions, electrotherapy and sleep deprivation had been Kwan’s daily routine for many years. The Doctors said this prepared his mind, but he knew better. They were breaking him down. He was desensitising from everything. Nothing mattered anymore. Anger dominated his every thought, never giving his mind a moment’s peace. Always at the surface ready to burst through, he restrained himself, otherwise he’d take another beating.
He wished his body had as much energy as his mind. Before Camp 22 Kwan had been a master of Taekwondo, a martial art that required not only physical strength but meditation and philosophical techniques. Kwan had been a very different man before he was sent here.
Once an accomplished fighter and a rebel of his time, he’d always possessed an acute disregard for authority. Despite this, he was formerly a kind soul and was empathetic towards those deserving.
Now, he had lost all faith. What kind of person could allow these experiments to go on? Was this government funded? Research for a new weapon they were creating? Or was this just some very wealthy people playing sick games for their entertainment?
Questions about this place frequently flooded his conscious, but pondering the answers was pointless. He was sure that whoever was running this was keeping these activities well-guarded and would go to great lengths to keep them under wraps.
* * *
Kwan had been drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours but was in too much pain to fall into a deep slumber. The throbbing in his head had worsened and his body had erupted with large blood blisters. His eyes were hard to open, rendering his sight blurry. Kwan was preparing himself for the possibility of blindness before his death. His throat was dry and raw. He needed water, but was too weak to move.
With all his strength Kwan propped himself up against the wall next to his bed, his whole body shuddering from the movement. Although the sink was only a few paces Kwan was too exhausted, too frail and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make the pitiful journey. The muscles in his legs and arms were burning up and cementing into stiff flesh.
Continuing to stare into the dull surface of the metal sink Kwan was helpless to quench his thirst, crippled with pain and rage. What had he become? What had these demented Doctors done to him?
He was once a bright, strong man in his prime and look at what they had turned him into. A pathetic shell of a man, a monster! Scorching anger surrounded him, pulsating in time with the throbs of his brain.
All he wanted was water. He desperately needed it yet he was so feeble he couldn’t reach the tap. He clenched his fists and let out a frustrated and tormenting howl, dramatically hanging his head low.
As a spurt of water splashed against the sink, a flare of vitality fortified his body. The power of his mind had urged the handle to corkscrew by itself. For some people, this would have been a shocking or scary moment, but not for Kwan.
The Doctors had been experimenting for years to create telekinetic powers within him.
They put that god-awful chip in his brain to enhance this. It’s why they beat and tortured him, all the while repeating like a mantra that they were preparing his mind. But hope rose up in him for a reason. Camp 22 employees were vigilant to ensure that prisoners could use their powers only when needed and GWEN transmitters were set up in all rooms to prevent unlicensed activity.
Although Kwan was still in great pain, he laughed out loud. He had no idea how the Kanzius machine had done this, but he wasn’t dying. Instead, the radiation was strengthening his powers.
Kwan’s face broke into the most prevalent smile he’d experienced in years, hurting the facial muscles he hadn’t used in so long. Tears flooded his eyes and rolled down his cheeks and off his face. Optimism quickly replaced anger. His new found positivity was the only strength he had to cling to. He lowered himself onto the bed, resting his head on the pillow.
The pain which captivated his body was still intense, still paralysing, but he needed to rest and refresh his mind.
Kwan closed his eyes, hopeful the fantasies of executing the men that had done wrong to him would become a
reality.
Now back in his cell, the guards must have thrown him in while unconscious. Kwan crept his arms up to his head to massage his temples. His skull throbbed like a second heartbeat, so powerful his cranium threatened to cave with every pulse. Eventually, he gathered enough energy to pull himself up into a sitting position. His muscles ached, imitating the pain endured after miles of running.
Kwan’s breathing was shallow. He strained his eyes open a little further and regarded his small, damp dwelling. A bulb hung from the ceiling which poorly lit his cell. Unsteadily on his feet Kwan walked to …show more content…
the sink and lifted his head to the tap. Gushing water filled Kwan’s mouth. He gulped mouthful after mouthful until he was too bloated to drink anymore. He put his hands under the tap and chucked cool water over his heated face and body. Kwan knew to be grateful for his access to water, not all prisoners received the same luxury. A sink had been fitted in his cell only a few months ago which he was sure had something to do with the new experiment they were conducting, the Kanzius machine. They’d installed the sink around the same time they had started bullying Kwan into the torturous contraption.
He didn’t trust the people who controlled this place. They could put anything in the water systems, he’d be naïve to think otherwise. Kwan had quickly learnt if he didn’t drink from the tap, he didn’t drink at all.
Stumbling with caution back to his camp bed, the thin metal frame released a low screech as Kwan placed his body weight on it, creaking from every movement. Gently, he propped himself up against the wall, still suffering tremendous pain that vibrated through his whole body.
His heart raced as his head pulsated, his lips breaking into blisters. A hammering pain from the Kanzius machine was a common symptom but never this intense. Breaking out into a fever, the sweat clung to his body and his stomach expelled thick bile. He had no doubt in this mind that he was suffering from radiation toxicity and if so the sweet release of death was near. Sick bastards.
They had put him through enough over the years, the chips, the torment and the experiments.
The gravity of his growing capabilities aroused his thoughts. Maybe they now obtained the results they wanted, his feelings of their intentions gathered strength. How long until he was deemed expendable? Surely this fate was inevitable? Eventually, he would simply be a loose end destined to be amputated.
If a person was condemned to Camp 22, nobody missed them. Those who once loved them wouldn’t know if they were dead or alive. Camp 22 held no secrets when boasting one of the highest death rates of inmates in North Korea, maybe even the world. Kwan was relieved his life would soon be over. No human should sustain this existence.
Committing suicide was against Kwan’s morals. Even if he did contemplate the thought, the cells were heavily watched with cameras. Prisoners weren’t allowed to get off that easy.
Kwan smiled at the idea that death was near. No more pain. No more suffering. His only regret was he couldn’t avenge his anguish by massacring all those who worked here. For years, he’d schemed plans to place justice into his own hands and break free.
They had made his mind stronger, evolved, but they also had complete control over him. Camp 22 had strict totalitarian …show more content…
regulations. All prisoners were kept in separate cells. Months had passed since Kwan had seen another inmate, which was only due to an experiment. Separating the inmates made an uprising or rebellion impossible and with no communication the prisoners would feel isolated, depressed. It’s the state they want you in.
The best possible results for the tests came from dissociated and submissive behaviour Kwan had learned. They beat the prisoners and put them through mental and physical torture.
Water board sessions, electrotherapy and sleep deprivation had been Kwan’s daily routine for many years. The Doctors said this prepared his mind, but he knew better. They were breaking him down. He was desensitising from everything. Nothing mattered anymore. Anger dominated his every thought, never giving his mind a moment’s peace. Always at the surface ready to burst through, he restrained himself, otherwise he’d take another beating.
He wished his body had as much energy as his mind. Before Camp 22 Kwan had been a master of Taekwondo, a martial art that required not only physical strength but meditation and philosophical techniques. Kwan had been a very different man before he was sent here.
Once an accomplished fighter and a rebel of his time, he’d always possessed an acute disregard for authority. Despite this, he was formerly a kind soul and was empathetic towards those deserving.
Now, he had lost all faith. What kind of person could allow these experiments to go on? Was this government funded? Research for a new weapon they were creating? Or was this just some very wealthy people playing sick games for their entertainment?
Questions about this place frequently flooded his conscious, but pondering the answers was pointless. He was sure that whoever was running this was keeping these activities well-guarded and would go to great lengths to keep them under wraps.
* * *
Kwan had been drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours but was in too much pain to fall into a deep slumber. The throbbing in his head had worsened and his body had erupted with large blood blisters. His eyes were hard to open, rendering his sight blurry. Kwan was preparing himself for the possibility of blindness before his death. His throat was dry and raw. He needed water, but was too weak to move.
With all his strength Kwan propped himself up against the wall next to his bed, his whole body shuddering from the movement. Although the sink was only a few paces Kwan was too exhausted, too frail and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make the pitiful journey. The muscles in his legs and arms were burning up and cementing into stiff flesh.
Continuing to stare into the dull surface of the metal sink Kwan was helpless to quench his thirst, crippled with pain and rage. What had he become? What had these demented Doctors done to him?
He was once a bright, strong man in his prime and look at what they had turned him into. A pathetic shell of a man, a monster! Scorching anger surrounded him, pulsating in time with the throbs of his brain.
All he wanted was water. He desperately needed it yet he was so feeble he couldn’t reach the tap. He clenched his fists and let out a frustrated and tormenting howl, dramatically hanging his head low.
As a spurt of water splashed against the sink, a flare of vitality fortified his body. The power of his mind had urged the handle to corkscrew by itself. For some people, this would have been a shocking or scary moment, but not for Kwan.
The Doctors had been experimenting for years to create telekinetic powers within him.
They put that god-awful chip in his brain to enhance this. It’s why they beat and tortured him, all the while repeating like a mantra that they were preparing his mind. But hope rose up in him for a reason. Camp 22 employees were vigilant to ensure that prisoners could use their powers only when needed and GWEN transmitters were set up in all rooms to prevent unlicensed activity.
Although Kwan was still in great pain, he laughed out loud. He had no idea how the Kanzius machine had done this, but he wasn’t dying. Instead, the radiation was strengthening his powers.
Kwan’s face broke into the most prevalent smile he’d experienced in years, hurting the facial muscles he hadn’t used in so long. Tears flooded his eyes and rolled down his cheeks and off his face. Optimism quickly replaced anger. His new found positivity was the only strength he had to cling to. He lowered himself onto the bed, resting his head on the pillow.
The pain which captivated his body was still intense, still paralysing, but he needed to rest and refresh his mind.
Kwan closed his eyes, hopeful the fantasies of executing the men that had done wrong to him would become a
reality.