Futile Prevention

It's the year 2017. Not much has changed. Not enough, anyways. A new law arose because of the skyrocketing of babies being born addicted to narcotics. A program was created to keep these people from ever hearing about things that could trigger a reaction. They employ only the top researchers to study them, to find what could trigger a subliminal reaction, and cause them to know what's happening. This is only a small percent of America, and Britain, the two countries who have adapted this. 3% in America, And 2.5% in britain.
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1.

Today, I woke up to what seems to be the first day of my life. Where I reside is a white cell. The floor and walls and ceiling is white, and my clothes are white. I sit here, seemingly content here. But, I long for something. I remember a certain smell, of something. I crave it. I feel that I need it, and ocasionally, I get angry that I do not have it. I teach myself things other than my craving. For instance, I taught myself some mental things, Like how to use my subconcious. I glance over things that are so minute, a regular person could simply not process it. Like the fact that one of the bars on my cell door has a deep nick in the top, and another one on the outside, weakening it. Therefore, if it were to break, I would have good leverage on it to bend it down. The people here don't usually worry about us doing anything bad. Most of us sit in silence. I know that there are other people here. I can sense it. I can hear the echos down the hallway. Sometimes I wonder how I can see in this place if there are no lights. I have a pencil, and that's it. Mostly what I do all day is write on the underside of the white bench, where nobody can see it, because it's shadowed. I see the ocasional guard walk by, but I ignore them. They shak their head at me, and proceed walking down the hallway. Sometimes I ask them where I am, Or what this place is. They respond with an unanimated
"You're here to think, and wonder." I think. I wonder. But yet, I am still here. They are not cruel to us. Probably because we haven't done anything wrong. I wonder what they would do if I were to get out. This writing is already completely covering the bench. I cannot write anyplace else. I must stop now.
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2.

He walked over to the bars. He knocked on them with his fist, and they shook. He shook them, and watch them bend. Finally, he pounded on the top, one last time, and it broke free. Admiring his work, he pulled on the top, bending it backwards a great length. He could hear no guards. He wondered where they were. In his mind, he noted that the walls were made up of a shining, somewhat reflective material. he also noted that his touch to the walls did not echo. They were soundproof. Walking along the long hallway that seemed endless, he looked at the other people in the cells. Some had their hands on their face. Other's stared at the wall, or ceiling. And then a few, just looked at him. he was the person who would change the lives of all of the people here. They stared at him as he walked by, and just nodded.
He stopped at a corner. Using the reflective walls to peer around it, it showed him that the next hallway was blank with human life. Besides he. Or so he though. A sound that reverberated through his mind like a bad feeling came to him in the form of footsteps. He stopped cold. The guard took a look at him.
"Please remain standing where you are." The guard said, in an apparently freindly voice. He only hoped this was so.
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3.

I have been sent to a new cell. This one is more complex. It's in a black hallway, and I have numerous books to read from. I found the largest book on the shelf. it was 2,537 pages long, and the text was fading. Using my pencil I had with me, I erased, although this took me five weeks since I had been put here, I erased every single word on the page, besides the number. This is where I note my thoughts. The food I eat here seems to be a little better. Or maybe it's not. After closing my eyes, and wondering about my surroundings, using my subconscious, I found no flaws in the system here. Like I did in my old cell, I slid myself under the bench, and to a great deal of surprise, a long block of text was scrawled upon the shadowy underside of this one, too.
"I remember coming here. They told me that the amount of sedatives wasn't enough. which is why I pretended to be asleep when they looked at me. They transported me in a gurney. They took me out of the medical room, down a hall, where at least ten other halls split from it, in different colors. Green, red, blue, brown, silver, gold, black, yellow, orange, and finally, white. I heard them converse about feeling sorry for me, because I was in the white hall. They said things like, I hope he can last until it's over. What is over? In between the Black and White hall, I saw an in-wall scanner, perhaps for a certain person to get to a place behind the half black and white wall?
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4.