The Tower of Brahma. Sexty. See.

5/30/09

And suddenly I stopped. I stood still as the swarm of minds washed around me. Astral bodies colliding and crashing about my person, sparking off into distant twinkling starwinks. Up and down and side by side, spinning minds whipping by, standing as stone, firework smash into my own.

The molecule that warbles among the air, the grain of sand slipping weaving, connected to each other, diagonally damned sentience balancing itself out, lest it whirl off free. Alone. Looking forward, one runs, for all they're worth. Looking at, the two bonds, feeding the other with it's hovering self, unicorn blast through the temple.

We are just the bits ripping away at unreality, the termite twisting tearing away hunks of light, carving grooves of sound. One step up, two steps back, the polarization of ourselves writing on infinity. We make an impact, puncture time and space, slamming our fists at its rough hide. We will survive!

A door opens, light that is impossible comes forth, the air digitized in its wake. Flatscreen virtual world, an inflatable hamster wheel of isolation, I realize I am inside a revolving hologram. Mike Gallows steps in and brings me back to my quarters. He created me, he owns me. He is my maker.

Training for tomorrow is what I'm told. A day will come when I am needed, and what I know will be good enough, to save who I need to save. I obey orders. Eventually I realize I'm the one who told me. Now, as I untell myself, the very matter surrounding me becomes unglued, and I'm twirling down, spiral spine speeding down.

I sit at a desk and eradicate my identity. I open the envelopes, look through the papers, shred what has info, and tear up what's left. It trains my mind, and sharpens my hands. Erases my existence. Released the text to the trees, broken apart financial record.

I heft my books. Upstairs, downstairs, and back thousands of times, the step count alternating each go, so I could keep track of my ebb and flow. It strains my arms, my muscles rippling and snapping taut against my bones. Once every piece of my identity is lifted, carried the weight as stones tied round my ankles, I now could carry the world.

I gasped for breath as I rose to the surface. The bubble vacuum sealed against my skin, I tore away at its skin, clawing my fingers into its molecular makeup. It tore open, air whooshing into my lungs, sucking down liquid dimensional sewage. I hit the floor like a wet sack of clay, my tone body thudding against the cold plastic tiles.