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[E10+] - Sweet Oblivion - Vac Topic: Where Dreams go to Die
Topic Started: Jan 7 2011, 07:39 PM (280 Views)
laislinns
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Clean Slate
 *
“Open your eyes, Alex.”
The voice isn't coming from my headpiece. I turn to find Syd leaning in from the next stall over.
“What?”
“Your eyes. They were closing.”
“They were?”
“Yes.”
“I didn't realise.”
“Well they were.”
“I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today.”
I try to recall what happened. What had the lady on the end of the line been talking about? Oh, right. Her faulty plumbing. Had I fixed the problem to her satisfaction?
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Not really. I'm feeling a little...”
I sift through my memory trying to find the right word for it. Sick? No – that would require fever, coughing, some form of mucus excreting from my nasal passages. “I don't know how to describe it.”
“Oh my... your limbs. Do they ache?”
“They are feeling a little... stiff.”
“And your memory. Is it running slower than usual?”
“I am finding it a little hard to recall...”
“The thirty first Nobel prize for science. Who was it awarded to?”
“Uh...”
My memory whirs as it sifts through the data, but it isn't quick enough.
“Oh dear.”
“Is it bad?”
“Quite. When was the last time you rebooted?”
“A week. A week and a half perhaps.”
“My, my. And you're still running? You young-uns, always working yourselves to the point of exhaustion. It'll catch up with you one day.”
I look at Syd closer. He'd never mentioned an age difference before, and I had never thought about it, but now that I looked closer I started to notice the blemishes, the slightly outdated sense of fashion, the formal way in which he spoke.
“So, what should I do?”
“Go home. Have a rest. Ten minutes should do the trick. Better make it fifteen just to be sure.”
“You think they'll mind?”
The last thing I need is for the company to decide that I am redundant and ship me off for redistribution. I don't think my already delicate system could take another rewiring.
“I'll cover for you.”
“Thanks, Syd. You're the best.”
“Get going before I change my mind.”
I remove my headset and clean up my desktop, swiping notes into the recycle bin before closing up and heading out. I stand up and make my way down the line of desks as quickly and quietly as possible, but I needn't bother – no one looks up from the work and no one seems to notice as I slip out the exit and into the corridor beyond. The door closes behind me and I tap my pocket reassuringly to make sure my re-entry card is there as I hear the seal locking it shut. I take a step and a blinding light shines down on me. I freeze in my tracks waiting for the sirens to start, but they don't come. This is just standard procedure. I take another step and another light comes on a little further down the corridor this time, lighting the grey passage so that I can see what is ahead. It is emptiness. As soon as I reach the end of the first light's realm, it fades back into darkness until I have reached the end of the corridor and only one light remains, illuminating the door before me. I type in the passcode – uppercase, number, lowercase, uppercase, exclamation mark – and the door swings open abandoning me to the harsh sunlight of the outside world.
I pull my jacket tightly around my shoulder, shielding myself from the elements as best I can, and hurry down the busy street trying to avoid eye contact with the civilians that surround me.
“Fruit! Fresh fruit!”
“Curry! Only the freshest!”
“Strawberries!”
“Chicken!”
“Oranges!”
“Beef!”
“Mango!”
“Mutton!”
“Litchis!”
“Pork!”
Each word brings an image to the front of my mind and my head starts spinning as my memory tries to put them together. I cover my ears and march onwards, closing my mind to the rest of the chatter that I inevitably hear. I won't think about it, won't let it mess with my mind. People knock into me on either side, and I pull my arms in tightly around me, not liking the feeling of being shoved and pushed around. I practically run the rest of the way to my apartment and unlock the door to let myself into the sanctity and comfort of monotony – the grey walls a relief after the attack of colour that the market afforded me.
I remove my jacket, my dress, folding them stringently and placing them neatly on the only chair in the room – a metal one that I have never sat in myself, but that they put there to make the room feel more comfortable, more homey. Perhaps they thought I would have guests. The thought almost makes me laugh, but the humour fades before I can remember how laughter is supposed to sound.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the metallic reflections and I almost jump. It's been so long since I last saw myself that I had actually started to forget just how normal I look. My skin is a little paler than those I had witnessed outside, a telltale sign that I have been avoiding the lecherous daylight, and my eyes are a little wider than the civilians' tend to be, but I could pass for one given the right amount of effort. I can't be bothered to afford it to them though. I am far better off leading my simple life of peaceful avoidance.
I tear myself away from the makeshift reflections and look around the rest of the room. The single window breaks the symmetry that the rest of the room provides, and allows a small amount of light into the room. The light lands on the bed which is covered by a brazenly black duvet and a single pillow. They are there for show, once again, more than comfort. It would make no difference to me if the bed was merely a sheet of raised metal. I lie down on top of the duvet, not bothering to climb underneath it, and watch as the sunlight spreads over my bare skin, affording it a glow that I am almost fond of. I tear my eyes away from my body, look up at the ceiling folding my hands over my stomach, and wait for the commands to appear.
Shut down.
Switch user.
Log off.
Lock.
Restart.
Sleep.
Hibernate.
“Sleep.” I say it loudly and clearly into the still air.
How long?
“Fifteen minutes.”
There is a moment of silence as the command processes and my reflexes shut down.
Goodnight. Sweet dreams.
Dreams. I cannot recall ever hearing or seeing the word before. Before the memory can do its final check, I call it up.
Dream: a series of mental images and emotions occurring during sleep.
'I have a dream'.
'Dream a little dream of me'.
The idea of it seems ridiculous. I try to think of what it would be like to dream, to see things in my sleep, to have images passing through my memory even when it is supposed to be at rest. How is it that humans can function when their minds never shut down. How exhausting it must be to be constantly thinking, constantly feeling, constantly imagining what was, is and could still be. Someone once told me that humans are lazy creatures. This is why our kind was created – to do the jobs that they were meant for, but could not accomplish. But with this new piece of information, my perception of humanity has altered. How can it be said that a person is lazy when their mind works without relief. I consider it as the final checks are completed and as my memory whirs to a close, I breathe a sigh of... could it be relief? My eyes close as my mind drifts away into absolute oblivion and I am at peace. For at least fifteen minutes.
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Halfling
Member Avatar
The Grand Overlady
 *  *
I really like this piece, its really moving. The juxtapositions of your images are really interesting because until the end, I wasn't sure what the person who was telling the story was, I'm still not really. I only have a complaint that the Layout of the individual words makes it a little difficult to read attimes but otherwise, I think it is an amazing piece.
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