Pettengill Awoke

Pettengill  awok e to the same view every morning,   t he grey metal and interlocking wire mesh of the bunk bed above him.  He slowly raised his arms above his head and yawned.  “Time to get up ,” his internal voice told him,  “ t here’s work to be done.”  That same voice had brought him out of slumber for the last, well, he couldn’t remember.  It seemed like it had always been there.  Sort of like his own personal alarm clock that no one else could hear. “Yes, master…”  Pettengill  stood up to stretch.  Same room as yesterday as well.  Grey walls of painted concrete block a little bit larger than a prison cell made up his sleeping room.  Two exits, one on the walls to his right and left, led out.  The exit on the right was his defecation room that included a toilet, sink and shower.  The exit behind the closed door on the left led down a hall to a series of more choices.