When the englander folk start popping up on my messenger I know it’s time for bed, but I can’t help but stay up a little tonight. I sit and I think of a meeting between two people who’ve never met. A what if of proportions I can’t measure. I’m not used to this sort of thing in my head. I don’t know what to do with it, it’s too new. I know that one day I’m going to have to learn how to edit, the trick of coming back to something to make it worthwhile. Keeping the structure while smoothing the lines. It’s strange to think about as so far I can’t touch something old without losing it. Honestly though, so far I’m still amazed I have snippets to even write, period. Stream of finger-hand expression. Once it’s down, it’s lost.
I wake up with a headache pulsing through my newly solid skull. The prescribed meds have worn off, but catching myself in the mirror, I decide I like the shape, so it’s worth it. Science fiction, yeah, living here is good. I wash my hands in the bathroom and step back into the bedroom. The streets outside are empty, I’m in a bland hotel of a cubicle. The cutters paid for it, so it’s cheap but serviceable. Brown bedspread and cream coloured walls, like something from the nineteen seventies. The sheets are soiled now, I bled from the mouth in my sleep. I suppose I should straighten them, but I can’t care through the pain. It’s a bloody ache to stiffen my spine. Can’t clench my teeth yet, I have to wait until the freezing wears off else my new teeth will slip through my tongue and I won’t even feel it. I should check my reflection again. Tender self mutilation and I won’t even be able to save it hard disk. If I weren’t so happy I would scream.
“It comes down to what you’re willing to do for me”
“I don’t understand, I thought we’d made our promises.”
She looks down, away. “I suppose, but things are different. It’s like the movies, this is the bit where I look at you and tell you things have changed.”
“You know I love you.”
“You know that doesn’t matter here.”
They met just over a year ago. The summer was sliding into autumn, but slowly. The sun was hot through the window of her apartment, slanting down onto her like she was chosen by god. In a way, she supposes, she was. Not any god she would have picked, mind you, but a deity none the less. The dice rolled and he fell into her lap. Time to see what could be done with it.
“You don’t understand, I threw away your power.”