I didn’t fall asleep, but I did move into that strange place between sleeping and awake. In that place I imagined myself pressing the buzzer. I saw the door opening, and watched as I made my way out of the pod and into the real world. I saw the TV crew and smiled bashfully as they all clapped for me. Someone wrapped a towel around me, and they all told me that I had made it. I had made the full two weeks. No wonder I’d been so tired. A suitcase was waiting for me, with more money than I had ever seen in my life. As I took the case, I passed a mirror and I grinned at my reflection. My hair was messy, but it looked good. I looked even better than before. My eyes were the familiar ocean hues I had always thought them to be. Thank God. Thank God. You did well, Ryan. You survived longer than everyone here. I turned and saw the doors to the other pods were all open. I looked around, and there was Jon waiting for me outside. You beat me, he said, you beat me fair and square, mate. He smiled at me then, in a way he’d never smiled at me before. Like I was no longer the annoying kid his parents had forced him to be friends with. My father appeared, his smile as wide as my own. He too was looking at me in a whole new way. For the first time in my life, he was looking at me like I was someone he was proud of. I’d done it. I’d survived.
I jumped up! “Yes!” Only, when I opened my eyes I was still in the pod. I glanced around in confusion. No TV crew. No Jon. No proud father. No suitcase filled with money. I had imagined it all. I sank back down, but as I did my arm grazed the edge of the counter, and the jar of coffee fell to the floor. I must not have put the lid back on it, and I watched in horror as the granules scattered all over the floor. I tried to pick them up, but the area was wet from my sweat. I lay in the sticky mess, feeling hopeless and helpless. The coffee was finished. I was finished. I crawled over to the buzzer, and without giving it anymore thought, I pressed it.
I expected a great big beeping sound the moment I pressed the buzzer. I imagined the door would fly open almost instantaneously. Instead, nothing happened. I waited, but the only sound I could hear was the rasp of my own breath. I pressed it again, and waited. Panic began to rise. Either I was in the middle of a dream, or I was locked in here forever. Let it be a dream, let it be a dream. If it was a dream, it would mean I was actually getting some sleep. I’d wake refreshed, and ready to tackle another day. I didn’t yet feel the relief I thought I would feel from pressing the buzzer. Instead, a horrible feeling of disappointment ran through me. Still, I no longer wanted to be here. I looked around, but it didn’t feel like a dream. Or look like a dream. I glanced down and saw the sticky coffee on the floor, some of it on my hands and legs. I was awake. I was awake.
“Hello?” I called out. My voice was croaky. I hadn’t used it in a while, other than the small mutterings to myself. “Hello?” I tried again. “I’m ready to come out.”
The door opened, and I almost fainted with relief. It was Larry.
“Larry?” I whispered, not daring to believe. There was still a big possibility that he was not really there, no matter how real he seemed to me at the moment.
He smiled. “It’s okay, Ryan. You’re fine. You can come out now. You did well.”
He reached for my hand and helped me up. I did well. I did well. I did well. I knew it. I knew it. I trailed after him, relieved when I stepped out of the pod for the first time. He sat me down, and I ran my hands over the soft sofa, happy to be feeling a different material again. I knew I was being dramatic. It wasn’t like I had been inside for years, or even months, but I couldn’t help the emotions. I felt close to tears. Larry had rushed off to get me some water, and I took a moment to compose myself. I was in the same waiting area I had been in when I’d first arrived, and I was surprised once again to find that the place was not swarming with the TV crew. Why was Larry—the show’s creator—doing everything? He was back before I had a chance to fully question it all, and I sipped the water as if I hadn’t had anything for days. Again, this was crazy, and over-dramatic, as drinking water was perhaps all I had been doing in there. How could I feel so different after two weeks? It was strange to know that this place had been outside my pod the whole time. I wished I could’ve held onto that thought in there, but I had felt vacuumed inside. I smiled gratefully at him.
“You did well,” he said, and the words filled me with joy. “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? We can sit and chat for a while before I call your cab.”
I chuckled. I assumed he’d witnessed the coffee granules on the floor. Things didn’t seem as serious now that I was out. Whatever I had felt inside had been multiplied by a thousand, while back in the real world the common sense part of my brain was starting to kick in again. It had been difficult inside, but it would’ve been the same for anyone. We weren’t meant to live in a vacuum. I was fine. I wasn’t going insane. “Coffee would be wonderful.”
He left again, and I gazed around. The room wasn’t much to behold, just a small area with sofas and a potted plant which looked like it could do with some attention. I resisted the urge to get up and give the place a proper once over, mostly because I knew it would mean having to pass by the big mirror on the side. I hadn’t noticed it when I first came in, and now that I was sitting, I was just outside of its viewpoint. I was happy to be out, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
Larry seemed to take forever to come back, but I wasn’t sure whether my sense of time was still messed up. When he returned, the first thing I noticed was the strong smell of coffee, which was so different to the smell from inside the pod. This was proper coffee, percolated to perfection. As I reached to take it from his hand, I noticed my palm was still sticky from the wet granules, and I hoped nobody would notice. I couldn’t see any cameras around, but I was pretty sure this part was still being filmed. The understanding that this was all for some big reality show dawned on me, and I felt instantly ashamed of the way I’d acted inside. Part of me wished I could go back and do it over, just to redo the image the world would now have of me, but another part was still too grateful to be out. I kept reminding myself that everyone would’ve done the same in my position.
“How ya holdin’ up?” Larry asked.
“Uh, a little disoriented to be honest, but the coffee is good,” I said and with each sip I found a bit of the old me return.
“I’m sure. It’s tough in there. I tried doing it myself once, and I didn’t do well at all. So, don’t be hard on yourself, mate. I know you hoped to stay the whole hog, but being completely alone is a lot harder than anyone can imagine, hey?”
I nodded. Took another sip. Nodded. The more normal I felt, the more aware I was of my failure. It wasn’t my proudest moment.
“Ryan, ol’ boy, you did well. You should be proud. All right?”
I nodded. “Sure.” I’d floated out as excited as a balloon ready to take flight, but I was deflated now, a broken mess I was afraid would never be fixed again.
“So, mind if I ask you a few questions? Or would you like a moment to yourself?”
I wanted to get out. “Now is fine.”
“Ah, wonderful. We’ll chat again in a few weeks, once you’re all settled again, but I’d like to get a few questions while you’re still in this mindset. Let me get my camera set up.”
That made me feel better. If he was fetching his camera it meant none of this had been recorded yet. Which meant I still had time to look somewhat decent. I asked for the bathroom, and splashed water on my face without looking into the mirror. I still couldn’t bring myself to. I ran some water through my hair and gave it a good rustle. Not quite my usual beauty regime but it would have to do. At least I no longer had coffee granules stuck to me. I wiped my face, then headed back to the room.
“Righto, let’s get straight to it.” Larry had mounted a tripod in both corners of the room, but told me I could look at him. I wasn’t sure if the one camera was there in case the other one failed, or if having different perspectives of my face was important, but I tried to ignore them. “Naturally, the first question on my mind, which I’m sure
is on yours too, is how long you think you’ve been in there. I’m surprised you haven’t asked me that already.”
I was surprised too, but I could guess my reasons why. I was afraid of the answer. I licked my lips, then stopped and stuck my tongue back in my mouth. It was a nervous twitch I sometimes had, something that was pointed out to me during one of my live video streams, and I’d been conscious of it ever since. Had I done it while in the pod? I hoped not. “Uh, it’s so hard to tell. Clearly I didn’t make the full two weeks, but I have a feeling I was close. So, I’m gonna estimate eleven days.” I was pretty sure it was twelve, but I didn’t want to seem over confident.
Larry seemed surprised. “Really?” He jotted something in his pad while I waited impatiently for him to confirm my timeframe. He looked up, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. I involuntarily did the same, but I wasn’t wearing any. I must have left them in the pod, although I barely remembered wearing them inside. It didn’t matter. They were only for show. The idea of wearing them seemed so ridiculous to me now.
“So, uh, you might be surprised to hear that you were inside for six days. Well, five and three quarters, but let’s not get bogged down by technicalities, aye?”
I didn’t dare look into the camera at this point. I stared instead at Larry trying to figure out if he was joking. I hadn’t had much human interaction lately, but even if I had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to read him. He was an odd character, a tall jittery man who seemed ill at ease in his body. He looked like he had been locked up for a while too, his pale skin—paler than I remembered—and white hair made his red-rimmed eyes stand out. He was clearly happy though; he seemed to be about to jump out of his skin. It was like Skeletor had come alive. Was he joking, though? Was that why he seemed so excited? I kept waiting for him to yell, “I fooled ya,” but it never came.
“Ryan, you okay?”
“Six days?” I asked. I’d forget about the five and three quarter bit. That was a little uncalled for, to be honest.
Larry offered me a sympathetic smile that immediately told me all I needed to know. “Don’t feel bad. That’s a long time to be alone.”
I nodded. “It felt longer.” And I now felt humiliated. I’d told him eleven days. Eleven! I’d lasted half of that time. I had another burning question I was too afraid to ask but blurted out anyway. “The others? How’d they do?”
“They’re still in there,” Larry said, and instead of feeling happy with this news I felt worse. So, I was the only idiot who couldn’t survive? Was that it? Was I that pathetic?
“What part did you find the hardest in there? Was it the constant light, the cameras, the boredom?” Larry seemed completely unaware of how mortified I was, so hopefully it wasn’t coming across on camera. I wasn’t sure. Larry didn’t seem to be very socially adept. He might not see my humiliation, but the rest of the world wouldn’t be fooled.
The hardest? The fact I thought someone was in the room with me. The inability to look into my own eyes. The assurance of what a failure my life had become. The knowledge that I was a nobody. The fear that I was slowly losing my mind. I blinked a few times and tried to focus on Larry. I couldn’t change what had happened inside, but I could control how I came across in this interview. I tried to rearrange my face into what I hoped included an ordinary smile. “You know, it was the lack of sleep, I think. It was tough to sleep in there, but at the same time it was the only thing I wanted to do. I guess that frustration got to me in the end.” The answer surprised me. It wasn’t a lie, but it barely touched the surface on what it was really like. I was impressed. Which only proved that it was easier to lie when there were other people around. The truth only reared its ugly head when I was alone.
“Yes, let’s talk about the end quickly. I have not seen all the footage myself yet, but I did notice a bit of decline in the last few days. The constant need to wash your hair. What happened there?”
Smile, Ryan. Smile. I forced my lips up even though I was certain it hadn’t reached my eyes. I shrugged. “Just never felt clean in there.”
“Funny the things that will get to you, eh?”
I nodded.
The conversation moved slower than I’d have liked, but I finally got through the interview. I felt more and more uneasy with every question he threw my way, but I hoped a bit of charm came through somehow. I’d been called charming many times before. Although, that was when I did my own videos, with perfect hair, and carefully edited segments. I was only really charming when it was curated. How would the real me come across? Larry didn’t seem upset that I was out early. Then again, why would he? It would be boring TV if everyone remained until the end, and more money for them to dish out.
“Where’s everyone else, by the way?” I asked just before the car arrived for me.
“Everyone el…oh, the crew. Ah, they’re on a break. Sleeping. We’ve been taking turns so someone is always awake in case a buzzer is pressed.”
“Right. Well, uh, so you’ll be in touch?”
“I’ll be in touch. And, don’t worry, Ryan. You did good in there.” He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t get rid of the suspicion he was judging me. If he were an emoji, he’d be a thumbs down. No, he’d be a laughing face.
Good for nothing. No good. The good, the bad, and the effing ugly. That was me. “Thanks.”
Chapter 16
Elton
I sat in front of the camera. It was time for yet another episode of the PodBook, which had, as of late (I think), turned into some sort of weird reality social media thing I kept forgetting wasn’t real. The moment I talked into the little screen, it felt as if a light had gone up on stage for me, a cue for me to begin my performance. Then, whenever I was done, it would feel as if I was walking off stage, and back to the confines of my own space. Just yesterday (two days ago?) I’d ‘signed out’ of PodBook, then said, “Thank God that’s over” and let out a giant fart. I’d snapped out of it the moment the sound, and smell, permeated the room, and made a joke of it as if I had planned it all along. Thankfully, I’d snapped out of it in time. I had honestly forgotten about the other cameras. I thought I’d love the constant attention, but having to stay on form at all times was proving to be difficult. The only downtime I had was in the bathroom, but even then I’d end up worrying that I was in there for too long. I kept imaging the words ‘One hour later’ popping up onto the screen as I finally made my way out. The last thing I wanted was to be seen as the guy who went to the toilet a little too many times. I was meant to be doing another camera session now, but I sat there too long, looking forlornly into the camera as if in a trance. It was as if I kept losing touch of reality. It wasn’t the first time I’d found myself open-mouthed and vegetative. A joke came to mind but I wasn’t sure how the audience would take it. That was a first for me. I didn’t usually care how low my jokes got. Why did I care now? Nobody was watching? Or was everyone watching? Or…I blinked. Coughed. The stage was lit.
“So here’s what I’ve been thinkin’ because, let’s face it, what else would I do in here. What is humour? Do you know the Americans spell it without the u? What does that mean? If the letter u is you then who makes the jokes?” I paused. I had practiced that one in the shower at least three times and it had sounded so much funnier then. Or had I said it all wrong? I suddenly couldn’t remember what was funny about it anymore. It no longer made sense. There was meant to be a punch line that was going allow me the segue I needed for a long joke about Australians living in America and vice versa. Now I couldn’t remember it, and the more I tried to figure it out the more confused I became.
This wasn’t the first time I’d gotten stage fright. This year marked five years since the worst day of my life. I turned every bad thing that happened to me into a joke I could one day tell up on stage, but I still hadn’t shared this one yet. No matter how many times I looked at it, this one still wasn’t funny to me, and I found most things funny in life. The gig had been meant to be life changing. I guess it had been, just not i
n the way I’d wanted it. The presenter was an old friend of mine. One of the very few ‘before I became well-known’ friends I still had. He was the one who had gotten me the gig in the first place. I thought I’d owe him forever. Now I hated him forever. To this day I could remember those few minutes as if they had only just happened.
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