This was new. I was just sitting at the computer, speaking with Seth and Sherry and reading her newest blog entry. Perhaps I shouldn’t read things when coming down from a trip…I don’t blame you, Sherry, don’t worry. My stupid idea, not yours, don’t be scared. Unbidden, a craving sprung up…it seemed like a great idea to start pulling at the still-healing crack in my leg. It hurt but was so much fun—like humans picking at scabs, I think. The pain is there but it’s overpowered by the fun of seeing little sections of yourself peel away. How far could it go? An inch—two inches? A foot—could I rip the section off entirely? As I peeled, I began to think. Everything was falling apart…it wouldn’t work, any of it. I could be fighting, but I can’t be fighting…I’d be useless in a fight and yet here I was, useless. I couldn’t stand it—this was wrong—I was wrong. So much pain was in this world…thank god there were only three years to go. Three years and it will all be over—how much worse can it get?
Acting on a new impulse, I got up and walked away from the computer, strolling until I got to another room. Perfect…I ran towards a wall, jumping and twisting as I got close to the brick so that I could see every detail, the singular fibers of the straw embedded in the clay, packed together to make such a wonderful, strong contraption…the object of my newest actions, my own stupid actions that had nothing to do with anyone else...my folly, not yours, don’t worry.
It exploded in a flash of red and brightened to white as heat trickled through my skull, quickly setting my brain on fire. Reeling from the impact, I buckled, stood up, ran again—not done yet. The cracking sound was wonderful…like fireworks; it matched the myriad of colors inside my head that flickered on and off. This was the right thing to do—I knew it as I ran again and again and again. After a time the impulse died down and shifted; it told me to lie on the ground. I stared up at the ceiling as George leaned over me, his voice deadly soft and filled with hatred. “You idiot—you think this is the end? MNU isn’t going down without a fight. . You think this is pain? Think again, Olo. Worse things are coming down the road.” The light shining from his body no longer seemed warm and serene—it was cold and glaring, like the light that shines on a specimen about to be cut and laid open on a dissecting table.
“Get up—you aren’t dead yet.”
I jolted out of the haze of pain to find myself at the computer, picking at my exoskeleton. I was in pain, yes, but it was not as extreme as the pain I had just been in—it was a hallucination, wasn’t it? I’d dreamed the whole thing, that’s why George was there. Only about ten minutes had passed…that was all? It had seemed like more—this had to be another dream. Fearfully I wait now—I’m going to wake up any second now to find that it’s just another hallucination, or maybe time will repeat itself and I’ll have to do the whole thing again. I hope not, but in a way I do. Worse things are coming down the road. Going back to past pains will soon be a luxury, I think.