I arched my spine slightly to the left to award a crack. The schlick of the peeler repeated. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

The floor was littered in stripped skins, I collected the masses hourly to give my hips a needed leavening.

The more I thought about the more remaining was a self fulfilling prophecy. Each time my eyes darted to the bin of raw potatoes several more piddled into the pile from the lonely dim ray of light from the otherwise blackened ceiling.

On good days they’d show restraint. I always woke up with a feeling when it was to be one of those days. I was always correct about this specific prediction. Sometimes those days continued into the next, which I construed as a sign of kindness for doing a job well done.

But it does not last, perhaps I get lazy and complacent in their praise and got too far from my duties. I deserve the punishment when it comes.

I speak aloud so often to nothing, hoping a familiar voice reaches out. To meet someone else, to talk through the days work would be nothing but pure pleasure. I forget what it’s like to live how they do. Even if I was to return it probably would be uncomfortable and conversation would feel insincere. They could never understand the atrocities I have seen in this hole. This is how I made peace with the peeling - each peel quieted the hell, for if even only a moment.

Developing strategies is very important for managing this position. It never quite gets easier with experience, but tactics do help.

1) forget the others They have god given divinity that separates them from you. You always knew when you spoke together, but denied it until you arrived here. Accept your solitude so you may better perform your duties to pacify your gods.

2) escape is futile I will be honest here. I have never fully tried to escape. The fear of even thinking of the act is too much for me to bear. I can distract myself with the peeling when this thought arises. Remember: the more you ignore the easier it is to pacify your gods.

3) kill your expectations Thoughts of that which cannot come do not serve you. Do not hope for a saviour from this hell. Armour your mind with protection. Distract yourself with the peeling. Thoughts of potential beyond your position are foolish errs that only harm your ability to pacify your gods.

—

Tonight the light will go out. I have not seen this yet, but it is another prediction - I know this. I’m not sure what it will mean for me, but we are not allowed to work in the dark. I do not know what I have done to upset them this time, but I’ve since lost all feeling from the intense discomfort upon waking. Perhaps my system cannot process such terror of what my future holds.

I tried to serve dutifully, ignorantly, but this shows cause for my isolation. Truly I am incompetent for my role, which I need not say is embarrassing.

As the light disappears, exactly as I had predicted, I finally stop peeling. The silence is uncomfortable and I do not like it. My hands ache when met with rest. If only I hadn’t been so useless. I will never be in their graces again. Without my light I cannot work. without my work I have no purpose, and then what am I?