It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel meh


So where was I?

Oh yes.  I remember now.  It is getting harder to keep my mind clear from the static that this world is broadcasting.  So easy would it be to just give in and join the herd.  The need to belong because the roads are scary, rides high in my conscious.

I do not like this world.  The sooner I can leave it the better.  However I did promise the local agent that I would try and sort this mess out and then take her home.  Her smile of relief gave me the strength to ignore the nagging doubts at the back of my mind.  We could do it together and then be home in time for tea.

Outside this dream of mine had died a quick and painful death.  The world was too far gone to save.  Whatever had set all this mind control up was very thorough and although i searched for the metaphorical end of the sellotape, it eluded my grasp.  I watched as the people wandered about wearing the most ridiculous fashions and beaming a smile that just about hid the fact that their minds were empty.

Just about hid it but not from me.  I am too skilled at this to be fooled by smoke and mirrors.  Magazines were full of people who were revered because they had been on a television show.  Their opinions and clothing was given the status of important political thinkers.  It would have been funny if it had not been happening right in front of my eyes.

The agent saw that I was struggling with the horror of it all and led me to this nightclub.  People who seemed to be immune to the idiot wave had congregated in the one place that allowed them to dull the different drummers outside.  I have to admit I was surprised and a little bit disappointed that they had not chosen Libraries but in this world it was music that gave them power.  I could still work with that if I had arrived earlier, however that option was now gone to me.

So I am sat here trying to work out what I can do to get me and this agent back to the nexus and then home.  The Agency are not contactable on this plane and the internet seems to be working but I cannot be certain that the sites I am connecting to are the same ones that I am familiar with.  Also if I am able to open some kind of astral doorway, can I really leave the people in this club behind?

I am feeling rather hungry at this point.  For some strange reason the clubbers around me are surviving on alcohol and peanuts, yet that would not be enough for me.  Outside i could get whatever I want to eat but I am not sure if I am strong enough to resist the banality call that lies outside.

The packet that was delivered to me contains postcards written by me years ago.  All written to my future self and containing all the wit and wisdom I possessed back then.

I do not remember doing this but my continuity has been reset many times over the years anything is possible.  Hard and soft reboots of my life to make things easier to cope with.  Some memories remain but I chose to forget, or hide, most of them.

These postcards from my younger self seemed so full of hope for the future, full of self belief that things would turn out great for me.  It seems as if they were written by a different person.  In a sense they were.

The DJ is playing some tune I recognise.  My feet begin to tap along to the beat and for three minutes and thirteen seconds all is right with my life.  Everything is possible and when the tune ends and mixes into another, that joy evaporates into the ether.

It does leave me with an idea though and I make my way towards the DJ booth.  We may yet have a chance here.

(Burstfiction conjured out of the air and moulded by the Lairdofdarkness)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s