You enter the room
And sit opposite the man
Who's here to help you
He tells you this and asks you your name
You don't answer
He stresses again
"I'm here to help you"
You just sit there
A blank expression on your face

"This place is not so bad as people make out"
He says
Suddenly you break into an evil grin
Reach into your pocket
You take out your hammer
And slam it into the desk
Splintering the polished mahogany
The man stares at you
Reaches a decision
Calls on his buzzer
"Take this man away,"
"Take him to room 101"

Everyone knows what is in room 101
It is the worst thing in the world
The thing you hate most
The thing you are terrified of
For those who are afraid of the dark
The room is pitch black
For those afraid of fire
It is an inferno
If you're afraid of the cold
The room is an icy cavern

Everyone experiences the terror
Of room 101
Can never be the same again
Something snaps inside them
Something is changed within
Their personalities are wiped clean
Expressions are forever blank
Voices are always neutral
Emotionless

None ever escapes from room 101
They remain locked inside
Wherever they go
They are locked inside
There's only one chance
One slim chance of escape
But if you do escape
You were already insane
"I'm here to help you"


Kevin Machin, 1982.