Stuck in Sin City

I was recently held captive and sedated in Las Vegas for seven days, plus or minus a few, under 24/7 florescent lights where the staff would chatter and the TV played incessantly. The "emergency" room was crowded with farting homeless, including myself on a cot in the corner.

I was in hell once again.

The farting moved between us, mostly emanating from myself and the larger bloated folks but quickly ricocheting as if one gave permission to the next. Some haunted automatic sinks stayed on much longer than others, seemingly triggering themselves with the extra water. Slish slosh click prrrrt.

Every chance extended exhale became a sigh of relief from mother nature herself. At last the madness was contained, finally, to this room. To these people. More than being merely angry, this time I felt certain that world events revolved around me. Us.

Every distant mention of sports or the weather brought forth aliens. One of the patients, an older blonde man with gruff rock-star vocals, became a body double for President Trump. A quieter black man was Obama. A tattooed guy across the room who took me seriously and seemed chill was obviously Secret Service.

We did not discuss our fictions, but acting them out was obviously necessary. My mind went into overdrive when a slender guy lunged my way as I walked over to the phone. I dodged, and we mirror-danced the climax to Annihilation (me being Natalie Portman, of course), settling back facing one another 5 beds apart. The staff muttered, "they aren't supposed to do that," in the background after we communed.

I thought he was clearly a Russian Assassin (e.g. gennady korotkevich), validated after I came back from the restroom and he was purple holding his breath. Obviously nuclear winter would be averted if we could make it through this situation room together, so unthinking I rushed over, we engaged in strange rituals again, and he eventually told me "you need to find God" in a flat American accent.

After a couple days, I learnt his name was Aaron. The staff kept calling him "a professional" which confused me.

I was probably too rude to the attending Doctor Read at the outset. He was obviously there to read the situation, right? To understand we were almost at war with China and Russia? Isn't that why those capitalist AI cannibal rap memes were circulating on twitter at the time Trump's White House invited Xi and wife to dinner, and the Encore had some moon festival gambling thing where poker tournaments usually take place?

So they kept me until once and only once a certain "Doctor Horn" came by. He licked his lips while I answered his questions, unconscious yet almost seductively. The devil was speaking softly through this authority figure and his questions which weren't really questions at all. They were statements of credence, gotcha meta-games of see how much more I know than you.

I always win such games.

It's illegal to hold someone for too long. It seemed to me we crossed that line long ago. But I also had my car impounded, I'd discarded my glasses and could not see, my passport was lost, my laptop was thrown in the trash along with my clothes and credit card along the Strip somewhere, my bank accounts were frozen, and nobody was coming to help take me home.

Some sheriff even walked through once, and seemed friendly enough with the staff to turn a blind eye to something, probably relating to my "treatment". I was taking their meds the entire time.

Twas a mercy when eventually hell froze over, we put things on ice, and I was transferred to another holding facility.