The Experiment Part 2 (Re: Rough Draft)

Awake again. What is going on? I’m in a new room, this time it looks like a clean, monochrome bedroom. My headache is gone, and I feel refreshed. In fact, I feel better that I have been in quite some time. Have I been cured? Is this some temporary cure or a permanent one. I don’t look any different. Wait… what’s this? I’m wearing a t-shirt that says “S: 2-50.” I’m wearing shorts to match as well.
Maybe they just cured me temporarily, or this was just the beginning of a month long cure. Something is off here, but I can’t figure it out. “Hello?” I call out, but no answer. I try the door, it’s locked. I try the window, it’s fake. If I really think about it, this room looks like a clean, colorless version of my room. I knock on the door, “Hellooo? Anyone there?” On the last knock, I hit the door harder than I meant to and it started to break. My fist almost broke through the wood entirely.
I just stand there in shock. Was the door made of a much weaker wood? I’ve hit my bedroom door with more effort before and it didn’t break. My hand doesn’t even hurt, so what’s going on? I punch the door and now my hand has completely broken through. I pull my hand out, and while there are a few splinters sticking, I barely feel them. I look through the hole, and it looks like a colorless version of the hallway outside my room. Am I colorblind? No, I still have color, even though my new clothes and room are monochrome.
I break out a bigger hole so I could reach my arm through and unlock the door. Leaving the room proved that the hallway there is a replica of my old hallway. There are doors leading to what I assume are monochrome replicas of the other bedrooms and bathroom. I knock on the replica of my parent’s room to see if anyone answers. Nope. Next I tried my older sister’s room. She moved out 2 years ago to join the army, but what can you expect with a replica house. Stairs? Check. Wall hung paintings and pictures? Check. Badly patterned carpet? Check. Everything seems to be here except the color.
Am I dreaming? I don’t think so. I admit I’ve tried lucid dreaming for the past year or so, and I’ve learned how to manipulate a few things. My finger won’t go through my hand, my reflection isn’t distorted, and I feel fine. I go downstairs, into the kitchen, and check the fridge. Thankfully there is real food with color (no grey eggs or ham for me). I check the cabinets, and there’s real food there too. I check the oven and it seems to work (and it turns out I can feel a tiny burn).
So I’ve decided to have Man-n-cheese and a glass of milk. I know it’s not much, but that’s one of the few things I know how to cook. Sue me if I haven’t been paying much attention in Culinary Arts I. About a half hour later, I’m sitting in the living room trying to turn on the TV. The thing won’t turn on even though it’s plugged in. Neither will the computer in one of the other rooms. The books I’ve found have blank spaces, the DVD and Blu-ray cases are empty, and even the VHS tapes (yes we still have those) have no tapes in them.
What am I supposed to do now? Build a 3D puzzle? Never mind, the puzzle and board game boxes are empty too. The house is entirely clean except for the few I accidentally made. I need to see if this all extends outside since all the windows are fake. I checked the main door. It’s metal like the original, but unlike the original it’s somehow locked without a handle. What else to do but to punch it like my (fake) bedroom door? Ouch… It hurt, but I left a dent.
I’m very surprised by my strength, now I know I wasn’t this strong before. I’ll try ramming my full body into the door, I’m sick of this empty copy of my house. It worked, it hurt, but it worked. Now I’m in a new hallway, but it reminds me of the room I was in the day before (unless I’ve been out for more than one night). A security camera in the corner faces me, and a voice comes in through a hidden intercom. “Congratulations! You’ve past your first test.” I look around for the intercom, “Dr. Raygold? What’s going on? Why was I in a fake version of my house?”
Raygold answers me almost right away, “We needed to make sure you knew that you’re not home anymore, and that if you return, home will never look the same again.” “What? If I… Do you mean that I may never return home again? What’s really going on here? I seriously doubt now that I’m being cured by some imaginary ‘disease.’” The Doctor laughs in reply to my comment. “You misunderstand. There is something more going on, I just never lied. I only told you what you needed to know.
“The truth of the matter is; we are all diseased. Ill with the racking pains of human nature. How many wars are there? How often do people suffer from our own mistakes? Our answer? Too many times. Look around you. Everywhere we go, we destroy. To change the world, we need to change. That is where we come in. R.E.S.T.O.R.E. is designed to replace the human race. We needed some way to change ourselves to better the world. But to know if we change the world, we needed more samples, which is where you come in, Subject 2-50.”
I can’t believe it, this is so insane. “My name is Peter!” I yell back, “How are you going to change the human race? There’s no way to make humans perfect, or to replace us with perfect beings. It’s impossible!” Raygold laughed again before answering, “I never said we’re aiming for perfection. All the problems of the world aren’t solvable overnight. We’re simply trying to make a reset button for the world. Hopefully we understand by then that we should change our ways by being changed ourselves. You’ll understand once you finish your changes.” With that Dr. Raygold ended his transmission, and I was left with a hallway leading to a single door.