The Cage of Conscience

Olga frowned but had no chance to reply.

Hey, hey, no war, – Artyom stepped in, raising his hands as though halting an invisible fight. – We’re not here to tear each other apart.

And what do you think we’re here for? – Olga snapped.

Maybe just… to relax? – Artyom tried to joke, but his smile was strained.

The silence that followed was heavier than before. Olga crossed her arms and turned away, muttering under her breath. Igor shook his head, eyes fixed on some distant point.

Your jokes… – Anna murmured from her corner without lifting her gaze, – aren’t very good.

Come on, I was just trying to ease the mood, – Artyom retorted, spreading his hands. – It’s not the end of the world… probably.

Not the end? – Olga spun back toward him. – Do you even understand what’s happening?

– Do you? – he shot back.

Enough! – Anna’s voice rang out suddenly. Though quiet, it was firm. All eyes turned to her.

We’re all afraid, – she went on, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her hands. – But fighting each other will only make it easier for them.

So you’re saying we should submit too? – Olga asked, narrowing her eyes.

I’m saying we need to understand what’s happening first, – Anna replied softly but firmly. – Then decide what to do.

Her words seemed to calm them—if only a little. Olga snorted but held her tongue. Artyom sighed, sliding down to sit against the wall. Igor adjusted his glasses again, as though it helped him keep composure.

Only Vadim remained still, watching them all intently, as if playing out a chess match in his mind.

– All right, – he said at last, breaking his silence. – There’s no point in fighting. But no point in relaxing either. We need to be ready for anything.

His words hung in the air like a warning.

Olga stood rooted in the center of the room, her gray eyes blazing. Her voice sliced through the tension, echoing off the walls.

– This is illegal! Do you hear me? You are violating every human right! Release us immediately! – She pointed toward the speaker, as if confronting an invisible enemy.

Olga, stop, – Igor urged gently, like warning a child not to touch a hot stove. – You’ll only hurt yourself.

Hurt myself? – She whirled on him, eyes so fierce he involuntarily stepped back. – So you’ve already given up? Willing to be their puppet?

It’s not as simple as you think, – he said quietly, but she turned away, dismissing his words.

You’re all cowards, – she muttered bitterly. – Too scared to even raise your heads.

The atmosphere thickened. The air was heavy, suffocating, as though moving through a dream.

Your resistance is irrelevant, – the voice intoned, calm, detached. – Failure to comply will result in punishment.

Punishment? – Olga’s laugh dripped with sarcasm. – Do you think I’m afraid of your stupid threats?

This is not a threat. It is a warning.

A warning? To hell with your warnings! – she screamed. – To hell with you, your rules, your

She never finished.

The room filled with a piercing shriek of sound, so sharp it seemed to slice the air itself. Not noise, but something that burrowed inside, scraping nerves, vibrating deep in the brain.

The participants cried out almost in unison, clutching their ears.

Olga staggered, her face contorting in agony.

– What… what is this? – Artyom choked, but his voice was lost in the din.

Olga clutched her head, fingers clawing through her hair. She tried to step back but her legs buckled. She collapsed, her body twisting in violent spasms, as though struck by unseen electricity.

Stop it! – Katya screamed, her voice a thin thread drowned in the chaos. She pressed against the wall, trying to vanish into it.

God, enough! – Igor shouted, his face pale, lips pressed tight. He lunged toward Olga but froze, unable to touch her convulsing body.

Olga’s scream tore through the room—a sound of raw pain that pierced them all. Her fingers scratched at the floor, her back arched unnaturally, her eyes rolled back to white.

She’s… she’s dying! – Anna cried, her voice breaking.

There’s nothing we can do! – Vadim barked from his place, fists clenched. His face was stone, though sweat gleamed on his brow.

Minutes stretched like hours before the sound cut off as abruptly as it began. Silence crashed down, broken only by Olga’s ragged breaths.

She lay motionless on the floor, a broken doll. Her hair clung damp to her forehead, her skin ghostly pale, lips quivering as though forming words without strength.

Olga… – Igor knelt beside her, his voice gentle, almost tender.

Her eyes fluttered open, stripped of defiance, filled instead with fear and confusion. She tried to rise, but her arms trembled too violently, and she fell back to her knees.

Don’t touch me, – she rasped, dragging herself away as though afraid even of help.

Are you all right? – Artyom asked carefully, taking a step forward.

All right? – Her voice cracked, full of hatred, yet it trembled. – This… this is impossible. They’re torturing us.

I told you, – Vadim said quietly, still standing apart. His gaze stayed fixed on her, cold and detached. – I’s better not to defy them.

Shut up! – Olga snapped, though her voice lacked power. She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The voice returned, lofty and indifferent, like a god speaking from on high:

– This is punishment for disobedience. You were warned.

Bastards, – Olga whispered, barely audible. No one else spoke.

And with that, it became undeniable: no one would leave this place of their own will. No one could escape punishment if they defied the rules.

The room fell into silence again, thick and suffocating, like a shroud.

Olga sat on the floor, clutching her knees, staring into a void no one else could see. Anna averted her eyes, hugging herself tightly. Igor’s hand trembled as he adjusted his glasses. Vadim leaned against the wall, unreadable but strangely composed. Artyom crouched with his face buried in his palms.

Only Katya showed her terror openly, her face wet with tears, breath shallow and fast, like someone fleeing flames.

– My God… this is terrifying, – she whispered, finally breaking the hush. Her voice was weak, yet it cut like a blade.

No one answered.

We can’t… we can’t just… – she faltered, words dying on her lips. Her fists clenched, shoulders shaking. – We mustn’t provoke them.

Her eyes darted between the others, pleading for support.

– You saw what they can do, – she stammered through tears. – They can do anything. We can’t defy them.

Katya… – Artyom began softly, but trailed off, helpless.

They’ll kill us if we resist! – she cried suddenly, her voice echoing through the room. – Don’t you understand?

Olga, silent until now, lifted her eyes. The fire in them was gone, replaced by a dim, muffled glow—the look of someone who had lost all control.

She’s right, – Igor muttered, staring at the floor. His voice was so faint it seemed like he was speaking to himself.

What? – Vadim snapped, pulling away from the wall.

She’s right, – Igor repeated, raising his gaze. – We can’t do anything. They control everything.

– So you’re suggesting we just give up? – Vadim’s tone carried more irritation than surprise, weary of the endless quarrels.

Igor didn’t answer. He averted his eyes, as if the question cut too close to something private.

Katya sobbed again, wiping her face with her sleeve.

– Please… just calm down, – she whispered. – I’m begging you… don’t provoke them.

Her words were quiet, but everyone heard them. No one argued, yet no one agreed either. Each retreated inward, searching for answers that remained out of reach.

Silence filled the room once more, but it had changed. It was now the silence of despair, of hopelessness, seeping like poisonous smoke into every corner.

The air grew heavy and still, saturated with fear. No one moved or spoke. Only Katya’s faint sobs disturbed the suffocating quiet. Even Olga, who moments ago burned with fury, now seemed hollowed out.

Then the voice returned, echoing off the smooth walls.

– This was the first warning. – The flat, detached tone filled the room like cold water seeping into cracks of stone. – Subsequent punishments will be far more severe. We advise against testing our patience.

The words fell with grim precision, like a verdict written long before.

– Your behavior must conform to the rules. Any attempts at sabotage or resistance will be crushed. You are here for the experiment. Remember: disobedience is unacceptable.

The voice cut off as abruptly as it had begun, leaving behind a ringing void.

Anna slowly lifted her head, her pale face like a marble mask. She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms.

– They’re just playing with us,” she whispered, barely audible.

– This isn’t even play, – Igor replied, lowering his eyes again. – It’s an experiment, as they said. To them, we’re not people. We’re… material.

His words struck each of them differently. Katya froze, her face trembling though no new tears fell. Olga exhaled sharply, as if trying to gather strength, but her eyes were distant, unfocused.

– Material, – Artyom echoed quietly, hiding his face in his hands. – To hell with them. Let them do what they want.

– No, – Olga cut in sharply. She raised her head; her eyes flickered weakly, embers threatening to die out. – To hell with them? Are you serious? They’ve stripped us of everything—everything human.

– And what do you propose? – Vadim asked coolly, his tone as indifferent as ever. – Scream? Die in agony, like you just did?

Olga opened her mouth but found no words. Her fists tightened, and she turned toward one of the cameras.

– They’ve broken us, – Igor said quietly, but with such finality his words split the thick, stagnant air. “And we know it.”

– And then what? – Olga spat, not turning her head.

– Nothing, – he answered. – We’ll do what they want.

The phrase landed like a full stop, ending a debate no one had the strength to continue.

Silence descended again, heavier than before—the silence of surrender.

Katya broke into sobs, pressing her palms to her face, curling up like a child hiding from nightmares.

– Please… just… don’t provoke them again, – she mumbled through tears.

No one replied. No one moved.

They were no longer just captives. They had become shadows, pale reflections of who they once were. Each of them felt it: there was no way out.

Morning crept in unnoticed. The light in the room did not shift with time—it remained a cold, hospital gray. That sterile glow only highlighted the artificiality of their world. Somewhere beyond these walls, morning meant sunlight, fresh air, the sounds of life awakening.

Here, nothing changed. Only the sealed space, the sterile order, and the unshakable sense of being watched.

Anna woke first. She lay still, staring at the ceiling for a long time, then sighed, rose, and walked to the kitchenette—a jarring contrast to the rest of the room. A small refrigerator with a mirrored door, a built-in stove, spotless cabinets. Everything looked brand new, as if displayed in a showroom.

She opened the fridge, expecting to find only ration packs. Instead, the shelves were full: milk, eggs, vegetables, cheese, bread—everything one would need for a proper breakfast.

She froze, trying to reconcile this abundance with the cruelty surrounding them. But she didn’t dwell long.

– I’ll cook something, – she murmured to herself and began pulling out ingredients.

Katya stirred soon after. Her pale, tear-stained face revealed she had barely slept. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees, silently watching Anna.

– Katya, will you help? – Anna asked gently, glancing back. The girl shook her head without a word.

– You need to eat, – Anna continued calmly, turning back to the stove.

Katya said nothing. She looked frightened, lost, as though even speaking might wake the voice again.

Olga approached next, her movements sharp, her face tense and irritable.

– So, what have we got here? – she muttered, stopping beside Anna.

– Breakfast, – Anna answered flatly without looking up.

– Not bad for a prison, – Olga remarked after opening the fridge and seeing the abundance. – They could’ve kept us on dry rations.

– It doesn’t matter, – Anna cut her off.

Olga stayed silent for a while, watching Anna lay strips of bacon on the pan. At last she sighed and grudgingly offered:

– Fine. I’ll help.

As the women cooked, the others began stirring. Igor was the first to come over, serious as always. He filled a cup with water from the cooler and sat at the table without a word.

– Well, what’s for breakfast? – Artyom asked with a forced grin, trying to sound cheerful.

– Anything you want, – Olga snapped without turning.

Vadim lingered at a distance, leaning against the wall. His cold gaze scanned the room as if studying each person, calculating who would crack first.

When breakfast was nearly ready, the room’s fragile quiet shattered. The sudden click of the speaker was like a gunshot, freezing everyone in place.

– Good morning, participants, – the familiar voice intoned. Its flat, lifeless cadence filled the space, pulling taut the nerves of everyone present.

Anna set down a plate of omelet with deliberate care. Katya shrank in on herself, as though wishing to vanish. Artyom froze with a spoon in hand. Igor removed his glasses, methodically polishing them to avoid looking up.

– Today, you have two tasks, – the voice went on, each word measured like the tick of a death clock. “The first is primary, to be carried out by two participants of opposite sex. The second is secondary, and must be completed by all.”

Olga’s eyes narrowed at the speaker, sharp enough to pierce steel.

– What tasks? – Artyom asked, his voice steady, stalling for time.

The voice ignored him, continuing with mechanical precision:

– Primary task: two participants of opposite sex must engage in intercourse. The act must end in orgasm.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the drip of water in the sink rang like a bell.

– The secondary task will be given after completion of the first, – the voice added, then cut out.

Katya buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling. Anna stared blankly at the table, not realizing her fingers were digging into the edge of her plate. Olga pressed her lips together so tightly it seemed they might tear.

– They’re mocking us, – she muttered, though her voice lacked its former strength.

– This is only the beginning, – Vadim replied coolly, his words falling like an omen.

The silence returned heavier than ever—thick with fear and submission. Everyone understood: resisting the voice was useless.

Chapter 3

The room, bathed in a bleak, dismal light, now felt devoid of life—even with people still inside. The announcement, spoken in a cold, dispassionate tone, continued to echo in every mind. The participants, as if paralyzed, stood motionless, barely breathing, fully grasping the absurdity and horrifying reality of what was unfolding.

Olga was the first to break the silence. Her face flushed with rage, and her voice rang out, sharp with the tremor of a scream held back.

– This isn’t just humiliation! – she shouted, raising her arm sharply, as if appealing to some unseen judge. – It’s perversion—an assault on our will! We don’t have to do this! They have no right to treat us this way!

Her words hung in the air like a defiant blow to the newly formed regime, but no one echoed her protest. Only Vadim, leaning against the wall like a man accustomed to witnessing others fall, responded in a voice so even and languid it bordered on mockery:

– Shall I remind you, Olga, what happened last time you chose to argue? Or do you think they’ve run out of ways to persuade us?

His words hit her like a splash of freezing water. Olga froze, locking eyes with him, sparks still flickering in her gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but clenched her lips instead, turning away. Even her fury—sharp as the blade of a sword—was dulled by a fear so vivid, it felt almost tangible.

– This… this is madness, – Katya whispered, lowering her head. Her hands trembled like someone who had carried a weight too long. She spoke in near-silence, as though fearing her voice might trigger another wave of torment.

– We can’t… we shouldn’t do this, – Olga said again, but her tone had lost its former fire. – They want to break us. You, me, all of us. We can’t give in…

– Can’t? – Igor cut her off, his voice unexpectedly sharp. Calm, yet thick with suppressed tension, it drew every head toward him.

– Olga, stop. None of us want this. But what do you suggest? To feel that pain again, the one you barely endured? Or watch it happen to someone else?

He paused, casting a long look around the room, like a challenge thrown. His gaze lingered on Anna, trembling faintly in a corner. As if sensing it, she lifted her head—her face was deathly pale, her lips pressed into a bloodless line.

– We don’t know what comes next, – he continued, addressing the room more than Olga. – But one thing is clear: resistance doesn’t work. And if we want to survive… we have to do it.

– We? – Olga’s brow arched, her voice dripping with sarcasm. – So you’ve already agreed to be their puppet?

Igor closed his eyes, bowing his head briefly as though collecting himself. When he looked at her again, his expression held no anger, no fear—only weariness.

– If it spares us greater pain… yes.

His words fell like a verdict. Silence settled over the room once more, but now it was different—thick as tar, choking and inescapable. No one dared speak until Anna’s lips parted at last.

– I… I agree, – she murmured, her voice so faint it echoed louder than a scream. All eyes turned to her. Her fists were clenched white with tension. – If that’s the only way… then I agree.

Olga scoffed loudly, turning away. Her figure seemed to shrink, as if finally bending under the weight of circumstance. Katya covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling in her eyes. Artyom, silent until now, suddenly forced a crooked smile.

– Well then, – he began, waving his arms like a clown trying to entertain a dying audience, – our dear Igor will be the first hero of this absurdity. Who said chivalry was dead?

His joke fell flat. Vadim shook his head, and Olga muttered something under her breath. Even Artyom, realizing the futility of his performance, lowered his arms and turned away.

Then, as Igor and Anna stepped toward the bed, the voice returned—cold and indifferent, like a knife through fabric.

– It must be done on the bed in the center of the room, – it announced, as if reciting protocol. – The others are to stand around and observe.

Each word fell like the blow of a blacksmith’s hammer. Anna’s eyes widened, her breathing quickened, hands gripping the hem of her sweater with trembling fingers. She froze mid-step, gathering courage, but her face was a portrait of dread.

– No… – Katya breathed, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. – They can’t… it’s wrong…

She began to sob, like a child, and the oppressive atmosphere grew thicker still. Olga flared up once more, her voice ablaze with rage, yet shaky.

– This crosses every line! – she shouted, but her tone cracked, sharp and brittle. – You can’t make us do this! Do you hear me?!

– They hear you, – Vadim replied dryly. His voice was even, but laced with bitter irony. – They just don’t care. They don’t care what we think, Olga. They want to humiliate us, crush us, break us. Haven’t you figured that out yet?

– Shut up! – she snapped, turning to him. – You’re always like this! Standing by and philosophizing while others suffer!

Vadim raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable.

– That’s exactly why I don’t suffer, – he said coldly. – They gave us terms. I say we meet them. We’re pawns, Olga. And pawns don’t play against the chessmaster.

– Enough! – Anna cried out suddenly, and everyone fell silent. Her voice was high but quivering, as if from exhaustion. – Just… please, stop talking…

She looked at Igor, tears in her eyes—but something else was there too: a flicker of fragile resolve to get it over with.

– Let’s just do it. The longer we argue, the worse it’ll be.

Igor stared at her, unreadable. He understood her fear, but saw no alternative. His voice came low and quiet:

– We’ll be quick. Just trust me.

His words rang like the final note in a dirge of despair. The others had no choice but to accept a reality they couldn’t change. The room shrank around them, its walls closing in with suffocating silence.

– If they even suspect we’re resisting… – Vadim began, then fell silent, catching Olga’s scornful glare.

Igor gently took Anna’s hand, and they stepped toward the bed. The others moved aside, forming a silent circle around this altar of degradation. No one spoke again, but each felt something within shatter—splintering into sharp, irretrievable pieces.

Anna, as if in a dream, moved slowly, her steps unnatural, as though she walked through invisible resistance. Her shoulders hunched, eyes fixed to the floor, while a tremor overtook her frail body. Igor walked beside her, outwardly calm, though his fists clenched the fabric of his pants with strain he could no longer hide.

The bed stood before them—bare, offensive in its simplicity. The neatly stretched sheet seemed designed to expose them.

Anna froze, nearly stumbling. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms like anchors to reality.

Igor cast a glance at the others. They stood like statues, frozen in misery. Katya covered her face, shoulders quaking in soundless sobs. Artyom stared at the wall, willing himself to disappear into it. Olga stood stiff, eyes ablaze with restrained fury, lips pressed into a hard line. Vadim remained hunched, motionless, his expression stony.

– It’ll be okay, – Igor said, his voice low and almost tender, though he didn’t believe it himself. It sounded more like an attempt to soothe his own soul than hers. He looked at Anna, trying to meet her gaze, but she kept staring down at her bare feet, rooted to the floor.

– How? – she whispered, her voice so fragile it seemed the sound might break her. – How can this ever be… okay?

Her words filled the room with the unbearable weight of truths no one dared voice. Igor had no answer.

He knew any word would be an empty sound, powerless to change anything. His eyes flicked to the bed, then quickly away, as though touching something searing hot.

– Just… trust me, – he said at last, forcing the words out. – It’s the only way.

Anna nodded, but her movement was so slow, so stiff, it looked more like an effort not to collapse. She lifted her head with difficulty—her face pale as if bloodless, her eyes filled with helplessness and shame.

Igor placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Her skin was ice cold, and she flinched almost imperceptibly at his touch. He tried to speak again, but his throat tightened, and only a muffled breath escaped.

They took another step. With each movement, the air grew denser, until it felt like nothing existed beyond this room. Only this bed, this moment, this unbearable awareness of being watched. The others’ shadows stretched across the floor like ink, framing their path.

Katya suddenly broke into sobs. Her cries shattered the silence like glass. She covered her face with trembling hands, her voice stammering between sobs.

– Please… don’t… don’t do this, – she whispered, but her words vanished into the void.

Igor turned to her but said nothing. His gaze was heavy, filled with the exhaustion that left no room for speech. Katya looked away, like a child caught in wrongdoing, and curled into herself again, trying to disappear.

– It has to be done, – Igor murmured, more to himself than anyone else. – We have no other choice.

He stepped forward, leaving Anna half a step behind. Her legs shook beneath her, but she followed, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings.

Then Olga spoke. Her voice was low, nearly a hiss.

– They want to destroy us, – she said, hatred lacing every word. – Are you really going to obey them? Just like that, on their terms?