It is a straight line that runs through the most zigzaggy circles of buildings that are mobile.
Robots are hiding in walls and in windows, appearing to look like natural birds without the bright feathers.
No one pays attention. They all are immersed statuesquely in the middle of town and by the side of the road and I cannot make out whether they are humans of flesh and blood or just cement and bronze creations.
Robots feed on the masculinity of humans. Whatever is left they just cream off and spit it out like bile which is then used as an energy source for the incomers.
I see them, robots tapping on the side of their heads, seeking out some kind of information to troll fellow arrivals.
They have run out massacring their own and now need to dispose of their power and forcefulness on a new front. It is not that easy when you consider that a lot of synthetic material has been spent on self-recuperation.
But these things do not care how they acquire their elements of design and completion.
They walk and they talk. More so, they assume charge when in doubt. They, obviously have no feelings and no sense of direction if they are not jigged to be directed upon somehow by some kind of motivation.
It is funny because humans do not need motivation to do anything. They can just do it when they feel that they have not much to lose. They commit when they do not have to. They mess things up when is not necessary.
It is probably because humans feel much more isolated and are prone to encourage behaviour that is not understood by themselves.
It is probably because that is how we are supposed to be.
It is because in this world or in the other one, the one that has not become entrenched in our lives yet, we are different.
Some kind of milder form of humanity and spirituality.
I shut my eyes because I do not want to imagine them anymore.
I opened my eyes again, wanting to feel the urge to do something much more relevant and express myself immediately. But I was too frightened to do that.
I see lines and then some more robots. They are robots. I cannot make out what they are, but I can envisage a script of some sort that is prescribed in their heads. and they are in my room. And I am in my room. It is an inscription of some sort that I see it in their foreheads.
They have the energy of a human but the usefulness of a machine.
They roam my room.
I feel restricted in saying anything. Then I envisage a different method of work. A method that is - just feel free and be me. Or pretend to be at least. Then I change tac straight away. They do not seem to like that.
Their grimaces are painful to watch. Some of them bite their own tongues, swallow them and then a new one is grown out of the old one. Eek!
Some others swallow their own heads within the abdomen and then spit it out in small, tiny fractions of consciousness. The weirdest one is the one that bite his friend and then pulls its limbs of, throws it around the room and then comes very close to my eyes with its red-pepper hot eyes, he plugs in a tiny disc into my ear that has the shape of my lobe, almost like an exact replica of my ear that fits in that disk.
I only saw a glimpse of that while he managed to insert that in my ear and from that moment on everything changed for me. My perspective changed for me, and I became the marching salad of everybody's appetite.
I then, as I said, my life changed, am not sure for good or just for some reason differently GOOD. I started seeing things. The most beautiful thing that I saw at that second was fractions. Numbers of some sort but they did not look like our numbers, you know like human-made numbers.
At that moment I realised that most of earthly stuff we have are stuff that are made up. We just create and innowaste, which is not particularly good for our own mental health.
Then I proceeded with the most of all amazing things.
I entered the trance. That trance had a lot of stairs and fractions. Again, numbers did not make any sense to me.
So, I tried to touch a switch that is disposed of a number of other plug-in panels which looks like they are situated on top of my head.
I tried to do that, but then that ugly sourcedom, switched me back on.
I shouted at him.
I was asking for why and how, but I was asking the wrong question I guess, because I ought to have been much more EQudup. He withdrew and cornered himself off at the side of my room where I could not even see the small bookshelf I had it placed there.
The other one that picked me up or came close to me. Mind you, by that moment I was not utterly conscious, and I did not know what I was doing or who I was.
So, the other one perplexed me even more and I did not know whether to react or say something utterly criticise because I was powerless and I did not know whether I should say something.
I decided to shut my eyes for a bit. I could not take it anymore. I could not wield the thought inside my skull in my soft tissue of the brain.
They continued dancing but by this stage I was tranced up and I was delirious.
My next plan was to open the eyes and try and see what is happening.
Nothing was happening. They were dancing but they took the human form. An excess I never believed I would ever see it with my two own eyes.
There they were James, John, Clare and Distria.
What was going on.
"It is only a line you saw, nothing else", John whispered in my ear with the sounding and squeaky voice of my sister Charlotte.
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