I wake at 6am
Waiting for the engines of healing to begin.
Engines are on at 6:30am
Short men in dirty overalls struggle with them in caverns of polished steel
Meals are at 7am, 11:30 am and 4:30pm
At 7am the engines are running at full speed
Cylinders the size of buses reciprocate obscenely. The short men are stressed. They watch dials, worry about grease steaming away.
Classes are at 7am, 11:30am 1:30pm and 3:30pm
Recreation time is 11am to 11:30am.
Walking the quadrangle is tough on the nerves. Who knows what side 4 will contain this time?
Ward meetings could be anytime. Advanced hypnotic techniques are used. A soothing yet authoritative voice. Spiralling patterns like spinning seashells on he TV. We are told of possible engine malfunctions in the near future.
Meds are at 7:30pm
For some of us the time when sunlight though a dirty window resolves into images of the short men, filled with joy and wisdom. At 7:35pm the light is sour yellow, illuminating dust.
The cold lights come on at sunset, sucking away at the dark as though it were a rotten tooth.
I sleep at 10pm
The engines stop with a grinding noise as loud as mountains crashing. The short men relax as the brass cylinders slow to a halt
I lie in bed, bereft at the loss of the engines of healing.