the small opening a beam of light emitted to the large white wall in front of the lone chair. A voice came from nowhere, from speakers located in the ceiling, saying “Have a seat, Dr. Burke. This is your life!” Music played, and the title, “This Is Your Life,” came up on the wall with such clarity that Dr. Burke thought his fellow doctors were using a DVD projector.
“The administration must be in on this also,” muttered Dr. Burke, who found his way over to the lone chair and sat down. “This looks interesting.”
Then the lettering changed to read “THIS IS YOUR LIFE, FRANKLIN BURKE.” Dr. Burke said, “Oh, now, come on… !” and laughed. Maybe this was some birthday surprise being pulled by his daughters, and if so, where did they hire the three men? They really shouldn’t be spending their babysitting money on such frivolous things.
Photographs were shown in video-style; they faded in and out, moved across the screen, got larger and smaller, with popular music from the era of years past playing along, giving Franklin a feeling of sentimentality. Pictures of his high school days, photos of his wedding, with an unrecognized male voice narrating the happy occasions, one after the other.
“This is Franklin Burke walking with his bride Helen Ceraldi just after promising before God and everybody to be loyal, ‘til death do us part,” with a photograph of himself and Helen happily walking through a hail of rice outside a church on their way to their honeymoon car. Photographs of the car were there. “Only Helen would have access to these pictures,” Franklin thought to himself. “She must have a hand in this.”
“Then over the years the Burke household was blessed with the birth of four children, Mindy, Beth, Lucia, and J.R.,” a montage of each child’s photograph being shown to beautiful music, pictures over the years in which each child was shown smiling and laughing, until finally Franklin Burke himself was smiling and laughing with each photograph. He found that he had relaxed and was really quite enjoying the moment; he had completely forgotten work and at times seemed to be sniffling to himself from the happy memories being shown on the wall screen. “How have they done all this?” he wondered. “It’s really good. Obviously a projector is in the next room, with images being shown through the opening. Where is everybody?”
Then came a montage of photographs with Franklin kissing his wife, from pictures in college, to pictures of wedding preparation dinners, with photos of him kissing his bride at the altar, and then again with pictures from family moments where he was caught kissing his wife over the next few years. This went on and on until one black and white photo filled the screen, when the sound of a needle scratch tearing across an old LP record came on the sound system.
“Franklin kissing his wife? Oh, no, this person is not his wife.” The voice over the speakers had suddenly become disguised, tinny, with an electronic quality.
The grainy black and white parking lot photograph was now projected on the wall, plainly showing him kissing Susan Lovely.
“Uh!” was all Franklin Burke could say. “Where did you get that?” he said to the unknown voice.
“Who is she, Franklin Burke? She is most definitely not your wife.”
“What’s going on? Who are you people?” said Franklin, as he looked around the room.
“It doesn’t matter who we are; what matters is that in the next few moments you give us truthful answers,” said the voice.
Dr. Burke stood up and walked over to the door. It wouldn’t open. He looked for the hole where the projector would have been, and then the projector light went off, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.
“Help! Help!” he cried.
“Dr. Burke, don’t bother wasting your energy; you have rounds to attend to. If you want to get back on schedule, we suggest you answer the question quickly and truthfully. No one can hear you. This room is soundproofed, to keep any generators down here from disturbing any patients up there; you know that.”
Franklin felt along the wall. It felt different than sheetrock. He knew that the basement rooms were made of brick and cinder-block, and this brick room apparently had a different lining added to it. He felt for the door, and it also felt different, somehow heavier, thicker. If he got locked in here, it might be down here for a long time before anyone found him. He might starve or dehydrate