the cube:  a study in madness

by Lori Summers



nihilism  5.  A delusion, experienced in some mental disorders, that the 
world or oneÕs mind, body, or self does not exist. 



	I am trapped inside a cube and cannot recall how I got here.
	This cube, itÕs a curious thing.  It has six faces, just like any other cube.  It is an 
ideal geometric figure in every way.  In fact, it is quite an unremarkable cube...
excepting I am inside it, and I cannot seem to get out.
	I tried pushing, I tried kicking.  I tried my Swiss Army knife.  That didnÕt work 
out quite the way I hoped.  I thrust it into the wall and it went halfway through and now
 itÕs stuck.  It will not move up.  It will not move down.  It will not move sideways.  I 
cannot pull it out.  For this reason, I am refraining from any further attempts to force 
any of my body parts through the wall because I fear that they may stick there and I 
may never get them back.
	So I have reached an impasse.  This cube is very aggravating.  There is no way 
out, which begs the question of how I got in.  I suppose that I shall soon die of thirst.  
Either that or I shall run out of air, whichever comes first.  ItÕs hard to tell how big 
my cube is, because the walls are completely transparent.  It is a very peculiar 
sensation.  It is a bit like floating.  I can feel the floor under me, yet I cannot see it.  
My Swiss Army knife seems to float in midair, yet I know that if I were to grasp it, it 
would not budge.
	I wonder if this is a perverse kind of punishment for some sin I have committed.  
Offhand, I cannot think of any...any sins, that is.  My life has been extraordinarily dull. 
 Now I suppose it will be even duller, my being trapped inside this cube and all.
	I have been here exactly fifteen hours, twenty-one minutes, and nineteen 
seconds.  My chronometer still works.  I do not feel thirsty, I do not feel hungry.  I 
feel nothing at all as I float along inside my cube.  My mind feels numb.  I sit on the
floor with my legs tucked under me and wonder how long I will be kept here.
	Am I dreaming?
	Am I dead?
	I would really like to know.  I would also like to know how it is possible for 
someone to go to sleep in a bed and wake up inside a cube.


	It is very boring here.  There is nothing to do but think.  So I have been thinking.  I 
wonder if I am a nihilist.
	Someone once accused me of being a nihilist.  I canÕt seem to remember who it 
was.  I did not know what it meant, so I looked it up.  There was a big long wordy 
definition, but basically it means Òbelieving in nothing.Ó  But does that mean that you 
have no beliefs, or that you believe that some absence of everything, ÒnothingÓ 
exists?  I believe that somewhere, in the vacuum of space, there is a place without 
matter or energy, where there is nothing...so in that respect I am a nihilist.  But the 
belief in nothing is in itself a belief so I suppose I cannot be a nihilist by the first 
definition.  I like the second one better because that means that I am a nihilist.  I would 
like to be something.
	I do not believe in -isms.  But I suppose, if you had to have an -ism, nihilism 
would be the most agreeable -ism to have.
	Well, I am certainly a nihilist now.  What is there to believe in when you are 
trapped inside a transparent cube?


	It has been exactly twenty hours now.  The prospect of spending the rest of my 
life in this cube is not at all appealing.  I wonder if anyone misses me.  Probably not.  
They are much too busy hurrying about their own lives and creating new -isms.  
Socialism, communism, capitalism, federalism, totalitarianism, existentialism, there 
are too many.  The world is far too complex.  But I no longer have to worry about the 
complexity of life.  My life is amazingly, frighteningly, wonderfully simple.  
	I wonder how long IÕll be here.


	I wonder if IÕve lost my sanity.  If I havenÕt IÕm sure it wonÕt be very long before 
I do.


	Do you know that this is the first peace IÕve had in a long time?


	IÕm still not feeling anything.  Hunger, thirst, the need to urinate, anything.  ItÕs 
as though my body has been turned off.


	I remember now who accused me of being a nihilist.  It was my ex-wife.  She 
simply has no appreciation for absurdity.  But then, who does?


	IÕve been contemplating my Swiss Army knife, hanging there in midair like the 
focal point in a surrealist painting.  You could kill somebody with that thing.  ItÕs a 
dangerous piece of equipment.  Kind of like hands.  You know, IÕve always wondered if 
hands count as deadly weapons legally.  You could certainly kill someone with them.  
You would just place your hands in the right spot on their neck...and squeeze.  I would 
look into their eyes just before they died to see if I could see their soul leaving their 
body.  
	I wonder if I have a soul?


	My cube is moving.  The scenery beneath me is changing.  It used to be a meadow 
under a blue sky.  Now itÕs gray choppy sea under purplish stormclouds.  This happened 
awfully quickly.  It makes me wonder.  IÕve been doing a lot of that lately.  Now my 
Swiss Army knife looks like itÕs about to cut through the clouds and make the rain fall.


	I think IÕm becoming part of this cube.  IÕm waiting for the time when I look down 
at my hands and see that the bones are visible through the skin.  I will just watch in 
wonderment as I become transparent, invisible, and disappear.  Then I could go 
anywhere, see anything, and no one would know I was there.  No one would care if I 
were a nihilist or not, because no one could see me.  I would just walk along, invisible 
and unnoticed.


	A minute ago, I was sitting here and I was suddenly sure that I could feel my hair 
growing.  I know thatÕs really impossible, but that doesnÕt seem to matter.  The word 
ÒimpossibleÓ has sort of lost its punch for me.  A few days ago I would have thought it 
impossible that I could ever be trapped inside a transparent cube.


	IÕve decided that I am a nihilist after all.



	I wonder if IÕm insane yet.  I wonder what it feel like to be insane.  I think it 
would be peaceful.  I think it would be a great relief.


	I wonder if IÕm a ÒMissing PersonÓ yet.  I wonder if my landlord has noticed that 
I havenÕt picked up my mail in fifty-four hours and thirteen minutes.  I wonder how 
long it will take before they shut off my electricity.


	IÕm still over the ocean.  ItÕs very hypnotizing to watch it, just watch the waves 
as they rush back and forth, back and forth.  So peaceful.  I havenÕt seen any ships.  
IÕve been far too busy watching the water as it swirls and tumbles.  I wish I could hear 
the sound of the waves crashing.
	My cube is rocking slowly back and forth, back and forth.  I think IÕm going to fall 
asleep.


	I looked up a minute ago and my Swiss Army knife was gone.  I suppose IÕve lost 
it.  ThatÕs all right.  I donÕt care if I ever get it back.  I just want to know where it 
went.


	My cube is slowly rocking like a boat tied to the pier.  IÕm laying on my stomach, 
staring down at the waves.  I canÕt seem to take my eyes off them.  A few minutes ago 
I saw the water part like the Red Sea and I could see all the way to the ocean floor and 
it was bright red and glowing like there was a very hot fire underneath  and it burst 
open and I could see straight into Hell, I could see it and it was quiet and waiting, 
waiting for me, waiting for me to die.


	I used to love to watch old movies.  You know, sitting up until real late and then 
curling up with popcorn and an afghan and watching old movies.  You could forget who 
you were.  I think IÕve forgotten who I am.  ThereÕs no one here except me and my 
cube.  And the waves, I love the waves.  TheyÕre so peaceful.  They donÕt care 
whether or not you are a nihilist.  They donÕt care where you vote Democrat or 
Republican.  TheyÕre completely objective.  If I ever get out of here, IÕm going to buy a 
boat and sail for the rest of my life.  But maybe IÕll never get out of here.  IÕll just sit 
and think and listen to my hair grow and watch my body become wasted and gaunt and
wish I could hear the sound of the waves and count how many times I breathe in an 
hour.


	My chronometer has stopped.  I donÕt care.  The sun never sets here.


	I think I know how I got here.  I lost my happy thoughts.  They say that if you 
think happy thoughts you can fly.  Well IÕm flying now -- at least floating -- and I donÕt 
have any happy thoughts I am aware of.  I lost my happy thoughts and so they punished 
me by putting me in this cube and leaving me here to die.


	Maybe IÕll never die.  Maybe IÕll be here until the end of the world..I donÕt think I 
could face that.  IÕd rather die now.


	IÕve prayed my whole life.  Nodoby told me that God believes in nothing.  All those 
empty prayers.  All those minutes spent praying when I could have been doing my 
taxes.


	I bet IÕm a Missing Person by now.  But I bet no oneÕs looking for me.  TheyÕre 
probably glad IÕm gone.  One less nihilist to deal with.


	Now IÕm laying on my back, looking at the clouds.  They change constantly but 
they never change at all.  They always look the same, but they look different every 
second.  Sometimes I see an eye.  I see an eye from heaven, looking down on me and 
telling me that I deserve it, I deserve being locked up inside this godforsaken cube until 
my body rots away and until time ends, that I deserve to be completely separated
from the rest of the world because theyÕre all hateful anyway and IÕm better off here 
but just the same I miss them...


	IÕve been hearing voices.  Strange voices from nowhere that say nothing.  No 
words , just voices.  I think itÕs dead people talking to me.
	I wish the voices would stop.  I liked it better when it was just me and my cube.


	I loved a woman once.  Her name was Ann and she was my secretary.  She was 
bright and pretty and smart and funny and kind and I loved her.  One day she quit her 
job and got married.  I went to her wedding.  I just stood in the back and watched and 
felt like I was in a long tunnel.  Then I went to the reception and I danced with her once. 
 She was smiling and laughing as she talked with me and I just kept feeling more and 
more like she wasnÕt real.  Suddenly her face changed and she began to call for her 
new husband.  I was holding her too tight, she was frightened and then all of a sudden 
she was leaving my arms and I didnÕt want her to go.  Next thing I knew her handsome 
husband hit me in the jaw and one of his groomsmen threw me out.  I didnÕt go home, 
though.  I stood at the window of the reception hall and watched the party, I watched 
her dancing all night long.  When she and her new husband left I followed them to their
house and sat in my car on the street all night.  
	The gun was in the trunk.


	I think the dead should shut up unless thereÕs something to say.


	When they put me on the stand I swore I didnÕt do anything even though I knew it 
wasnÕt true.  They showed me pictures...I didnÕt want to look.  The people there...they 
looked at me with pity and hate and revulsion when I broke down and cried.  The 
handsome husband sat there and looked like he wanted to chop me into little pieces and 
eat me.  After it was over and they had decided he hugged the question man and started 
to cry and yell at me.  He said I should burn in Hell.  I guess he got his wish.


	ÒWhen in disgrace with fortune and menÕs eyes
	I all alone beweep my outcast state...Ó
	ThatÕs Shakespeare, you know.  I am quite knowledgeable.  I like plays.  I like 
Titus Andronicus the best, but I donÕt know why.  Do you know what MacBeth is about? 
 IÕll tell you.  ItÕs a play about the numbing of the moral sense...they said thatÕs what 
happened to me.  I donÕt know what that means.


	My cube is very sympathetic to my plight.  IÕm a good person, I guess.


	I am trapped inside a cube and cannot recall how I got here.