Void. Blackness. Nothing. I rise through this. My eyelids slowly stretch open. Pupils encased in purple halos dilate, constrict & dilate again. Fear. White light bombarding my psyche. Where am i? This phrase echo’s & rebounds inside my skull. I convulsive as shivers run through my shoulders & spine. Whiteness. The room is pure white, but familiar Corporate white. I’m home? I wiggle my toes, soft sheets. I’m on my side facing a wall lined with what looks like real wallpaper. I’m sweating. My head wakes up and begins to thump. My stomach wakes up and begins to quake. I put my hand to my mouth. I’m going to puke.
I struggle to stand up, its seems everything is surrounded by a faint haze. I swing out of the bed too quickly. I fall to the floor. Laugher. WTF? The emesis starts its way up my esophagus. I’m going to hurl. I’m diaphoretic. Seeing the garbage can. I quickly crawl over to it and in the lotus position with my legs & arms wrapped around the can, I empty my guts. With each heave, liquid spews from my mouth, into the can and is evaporated. I try to turn my head to avoid the vapor bi-product of this. But cannot….the steam is inhaled causing me to heave and heave and heave until nothing is left in my stomach. I can only smell the reek of foul acidic vapors; the stench sticks to me. I collapse against the wall. Where the fuck am i? The furniture in the room looks Corporate issued, but seems more rich and organic….better constructed. I start to dry heave again. Fuck. I am hung over. Should I be? I lean over the trashcan, my head resting in my elbow nook trying to piece together a fractured night. I watch the red light at the bottom of the can blink off on off on. What do i fucking remember? Respirations increase and my stomach convulses. Dry heave. Rest. Dry heave. Rest. Where am I? The saliva drips from my mouth in strings then is slowly evaporated at the bottom of the trashcan.
I hear a slow familiar laugh. Eyes snap open. Memories come back. Graduation. Party. A lean smiling face. “Remember Me?” My blurry eyes focus on the bed. There is a very handsome sinister looking man there. I close my eyes a slowly shake my head. No. “You were wild last night.” I start to dry heave. Why am I so sick? “Like I said Thriller. You were a loose cannon. Out front & behind closed doors.” What? I feel a burning on my right forearm. I look a the offending feeling. The are circular fresh cuts on my inner forearm. What the fuck happened here? Still sitting on the floor I hold up my arm to show the blurry figure in the bed the fresh cuts. He pats the bed beside him “Come here sweet thing.” Dry heave. I shake my head. No. “Awww.” I fade out. Minutes or hours pass. Timeless.
My eyes open, I’m lying on the floor. Nothing is blurry. I smell cigarette smoke. I look up at the bed. Why is there a man lying on in this bed with the white sheets pulled up to the nipples of his chiselled chest. My right arm feels like a sunburn. I look at it again, like seeing it for the first time. There are three circular rings cut out of my right forearm, running up the inside, approximately three cm in diameter. All PERFECT circles. I squint examining the well defined clean wounds. “You like them.” What? “Do you like your circles? You worked so hard on them.” I did this? “Yes.” Waves of sutters convulse through my body, everything hurts. My legs, groin, and neck all throb in pain. I’m right handed. “Come here.” He beacons. Unsteady I rise, walk to the bed and sit on the edge.
The most beautiful AI I’ve ever seen enters and brings water, antiemetics, & a mild analgesic. I greedily swallow the antiemetic and subcutaneously inject the analgesic. Sighing as the pain is washed away like an afterthought, I examine the AI. Wow! She’s a perfect AI. “Actually she’s not essentially perfect at all. She’s a volunteer. A human. Over 86% of her is synthetic or organic modifications. The best part is that half her mind is hive and half is her own. Shhhh….she’s still a secret….not a totally legit practice yet but she is content. Aren’t you Honey?” The modified individual nods and passes out of the room. Holy fuck…that analgesic stoned me. I examine the raw exposed flesh on my arm; I watch as little white circles of light rise out of the wounds and hover for a moment before popping like bubbles. I’m hallucinating; tears whelm up, but do not spill out of my eyes. What is going on?
Still sitting on the edge of the bed I feel firm hands run across my shoulders gently pulling me back down to the bed. Timeless. “Come here Baby.” Too sick, stoned, and fatigued to fight. I am guided to a supine position. Arms are wrapped around me. Embraced. I’m right handed. Tears slip out of my eyes and slide into my ears. My forehead is kissed. In my ear he whispers, “You did it to yourself”. I shake my head. He whispers, “Those are your scars to bear.” Exhausted I slip back into darkness.