-Middlefield Massachusetts, 1962-

You wake up to a familiar chiming echoing through the open window of your room. The sound jars you awake from your restful slumber as it resonates throughout the compound. Each time the noise just dies out it rings out once more only to continue the cycle again and again.

It's the 8:00 bell toll, signaling the dawn of the day. You've grown quite accustomed to it. Another dulcet moment that's been reduced to an afterthought as you've grown to tune it out. The only time it happens is when you actually think about the bell-toll. Much like realizing you're blinking. Then you eventually forget about it again. the moment being banished to the recesses of your mind.

You pull your eyes open to greet the wall of your room. as you start return back to consciousness, you can feel a light breeze drift in and slip over your back bringing with it a shiver that goes up to the tip of your ears down to your hooves. It gives you enough stimulation to muster the strength to pick yourself up and turn around to face your room. It's sterile and clean enough to make even hospitals look like a shantytown in comparison. It mirrors the parts of the compound you've seen. Sheer pristine and polished, from even the frames and foundations of the buildings you inhabit. Most look like they've been laid and built just yesterday. Not to mention the people; those assigned to take care of you, a even mix of men and women, are picturesque. the quintessential pictures of beauty, each one of them. Even though it's a rotating selection of parents, not one isn't nice to you. It's perfection everywhere you look.

You bring your hands to your eyes to smudge off the crust left during your sleep. However, before you can even begin to blink to adjust to the brightness, a knock reverberates through the room before someone steps in..