Their lives were not timelines, but many intertwining threads, stopping and starting on a whim. Every moment could be a start or an end, a little birth or a little death; it happened when they woke up, after orgasm, in the park or in the rain -- a sudden reconfiguration of the world, a reinterpretation of their thoughts and feelings into something completely new. They had personalities made of Lego bricks, and they loved it.
The conversation lasted two words.
At least, by the computer's definition of 'word'. That was definitely the source of the bug.
The disco ball was turning. Just in case there were any senses left unassailed, it was supported by several lasers and flashing coloured lights. The year 1-5 annual childrens Halloween Party was, to a Pagan, rather like finding yourself in a hall full of Jesus and Mohammeds running around with joke crosses and inflatable flashing Qurans celebrating how fun crucifixion is. Most of the parents, whom if they were seasoned veterans had preemptively dosed themselves with migraine pills already, had no real concern over the witches, ghosts, mummies and (for god sake!) Spidermen and other assorted superheroes had ANYTHING to...
Majestic words like maelstrom, preponderance, warbling swirl through my creative whirlpool, pulling in pieces of conversation, tail-ends of admonitions, the lilt of swearing. I live by the calendar, fitting my days into the squares, x'ing the boxes at midnight.
Friday is the wave that crashed but hasn't withdrawn to the sea. I'll compose this in the spiked surf.
Snip. Snip.
Pause.
Snip snip snip.
He squinted into the test tube. The stems of heather floated in the solution of sodium dodecyl sulfate, suspended, waiting.
Laughing at him.
Gene closed his eyes. No, he thought, not now. Not after all this. Not when I'm so close.
Flashback to the grimy street where he was born, eleventh child to a drunk and a slattern. When he dared say that he would grow up to be a scientist one day, oh how the neighborhood toughs had loved it. Another reason to pound him, day after day. "Gene, Gene the gene-machine, work...
Running had always been an expression of freedom. That's how she had always seen it. The wind whipping through her hair, tugging at her clothes as her feet moved so fast that she felt like she was flying. AS though for just that moment, she was soaring above the ground, close enough to the clouds to touch them.
But then she began to notice the strings. The tiny threads, invisible against the light, that were attached to her clothes, hooked into her skin, threaded through to her soul.
When had that happen? When had she become the marionette? The freedom...
I held it at arm's length. Then I let the bell pull go, and somewhere deep within the old house a distant bell rang. The House had sinister rumours surrounding it. Some said it was Death's Door itself.
When the quiet aged man answered some time later, he just chuckled at my Halloween costume.
"I've got a Knock Knock joke for you." he sighed, "Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"DEATH…"
"Death wh…"
It seems HE doesn't like being disturbed, but does have a sense of humour.
The implant's biggest drawbacks were the headaches. The gear-man had assured her that would abate in time, but meanwhile she was dying for an injection, or even a good, old-fashioned aspirin. Too bad the chemicals would interfere with the implant's bonding process.
Text passed before her eyes, the latest news, the day's top story, ads for sexual aids and fast food joints. She blinked, but the visuals refused to recede into the background of her consciousness. Could she really take another day of non-stop sensory stimulation before she could control her access?
Resigned to stay plugged in, she laid back...
Waves.
When I opened my eyes the image faded, something from a dream. The waves were pink, lapping against the beach and around my ankles. The pink was tinged with pale green, and the forms in the distance, all of them waist deep in the water were the last to delete from my waking memories.
I only remember one of the forms with clarity. One shoulder higher than the other, arms dangling at the sides, a feeble attempt to wave with the shorter arm.
There were tears in my eyes, and I ran my fingers through my hair, and I...
"At long last it is a weekend", says Katherine. She didn't question why she was in this seedy club. She didn't care at all. She just wants to forget all the happenings in her life. Her work,her boyfriend and even her troublesome dog. Katherine didn't much care. She has decided that she has cared to everyone most her life. She always took everyone's interest before her own. But not this time, not when the disco is sparklinglt turning.
The music was so loud, the lights were so dim and there were many people clustered in groups. Katherine just sat on...