I woke up here, where I lie on the floor and remember. “Here” is a uniform white from all around, but I discovered by touch that it has four walls and a floor. The light comes from everywhere, from every point in space. When I cover my eyes, there is no darkness – I see my palms as clearly as always. There might be a ceiling, but I couldn’t see the seam that separates it from the walls.

For the first week or so, I could not accept this ignorance. I ripped strips from my clothing (a white jumpsuit I’d never seen before) and rolled them into balls about one inch in diameter. I moistened them with saliva for added weight and threw them up to see if they hit anything. They never did. To this day, I still don’t know if there is a ceiling or not. If there is, it’s at least forty feet high.

Eventually, I gave up, or, rather, gave in to another obsession. I wanted to change something, anything in this place. The room did not allow me. Everything was absolute, permanent. Even the jumpsuit. I ripped it to pieces, threw it into a corner, ate it – it always reappeared on me whenever I closed my eyes or lost concentration, new and pristinely clean. I soon discovered I was permanent too. I ran headlong into a wall, jumped up and landed onto my head at all possible angles, trying to break my neck. It hurt, but nothing changed. If I broke my teeth or gouged my eyes out, they, too, came back.

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“Convict N9156536,” a robotic voice boomed from all around as I lay on the floor after one of such attempts. I jumped up. “For a crime of second-degree murder, you have been sentenced to ten years in mind prison without the possibility of parole. Do you understand your sentence?”

“Fuck,” I yelled. The voice distracted me, so the thick wad of hair which I’d been forming into a doll for the last few hours disappeared from my hand. With a strange tingling sensation, each follicle I’d pulled out for this art project returned to its proper position on my scalp.

“Convict N9156536, for contempt of court your sentence is increased by one day in mind prison. Your current sentence is nine years, ten months, three days, five hours, thirteen minutes, and thirty-five seconds. Do you understand your sentence?“

“Get me the hell out of here!”

“Convict N9156536, for contempt of court your sentence is increased by one day in mind prison. Your current sentence is nine years, ten months, four days, five hours, twelve minutes, and fifty-four seconds. Do you understand your sentence?"

I kept silent.

“Do you understand your sentence? Do you understand your sentence? Do you understand your sentence?” the voice droned every few seconds.

I covered my ears, but it only got louder.

“Yes!” I said when it became unbearable.

“Good,” the room answered, now in a softer, feminine voice.

I know this voice, I thought, but I could not recall where from.

“I am glad to see you have acquainted yourself with your cell. We will soon begin reformative training.”