dystopian daydream

Day One: It skitters across my walls in some sort of a jerking and fluid motion. All arms and legs in fully mechanized posturings. It’s ceaseless whirring is hissing through my brain hitting raw nerves. Already unhinged, I fought off the idea that the thing was stalking me, and only me. We were informed yesterday that these things would be the new and constant presence in our homes.

Day Two: My husband is no longer allowed to be in the home with me, the thing has reported us to "a higher command" as dissidents. I will instead be working from isolation with only the skittering intrusive robot thing who hates me, I swear it does.

Day Three: The thing monitors my heat, decimates my comfort zones, and destroys my food. I don't know how to breathe or think, his living patterns have dominated my own, and he is not even of life!!! He is not even human, so I can't adjust to him/it. There is no possibility of compromise or understanding. It is a non living organism that has been granted all authority over my life, communications and appearance, and even showers are governed by it.

Day Four: He wakes me wearing a robe, proclaiming to be holy, demanding a consummation of our nearly marital status. What am I to say?

Day Five:

Day Six: I am alive, I have decided to proclaim myself in waiting.This internal declaration of survival will hopefully keep me. Whatever human or group has gained control of our system will at some point be stopped. I must make it until then, so I will use the limited tactics of surviving trauma that I have learned from basic experience, and some book knowledge.

Day Seven: I am ill equipped for this. Outside the sky bleeds red and fire glows lighten the horizon but my mind refuses the hope.

Day 8: Outside of my window, the streets are overtaken. The stealthy metallic organisms have created a whole symphony of ordered destruction. They move in stealth and in slithering movements. Can robots slither? Yes they can, smoothly with only a few static strays from this" harmonious" tracking of doom.

Day 9: He brings a mate in, the proposed assemblance of a female of his kind I suppose. He becomes more hostile to me. As I said, if I didn't know better I would swear this thing has feelings. Perhaps, it is a program. He stride/scuttle/ stomps up to me, heels clicking, and leans in and whispers so harshly, I nearly feel hot breath in my face, that his authority is inclusive of my life. He tells me to be grateful for the survival that he provides.

Day 10: I am done, with life. I lie in wait, like a dolphin who wishes to commit suicide. The remnants of hope hide themselves, and in tatters I lie while the ribbons of logic wind in and out of His all consuming ill responsive living excuse for a human mind. I believe I have personalized this being.

Day 11: Outside they make games of breaking windows and piecing them back together. Singing songs of comraderie and superiority of humanity. They are sightless. They cannot care. They are digital circuitry, hardwired to accomplish whatever it is... But I could almost believe by their revelings and synthetic facsimile that they were real. That the direction could somehow be impacted by logic, rather than the neccessity of reaching the human programmer from above.

Day 12: I have found a way into his circuitry. The cars, they hate them. The cars are electric. The cars each have their own security systems and each is linked to its own network. With varying systems in play, perhaps I can with the force of mental telepathy push one of them, or perhaps I could with physical proximity reroute the electrical path of his symmetry and somehow...long shot, as I realize I am now utilizing delusion as a coping mechanism. I am so guarded, but if I could somehow short circuit him physically...but then the other things would be alerted.

Day 13: My husbands voice calls me and I think, in building blocks of faith, that if he can hear me, see me, feel me as strongly as I believe he can, that perhaps there is something more to the energetic force field of my mind.

But the magnetics and patterns of communication are different. I can, I will, it is mine.

Its the robot, I have to reach it on a logistical level, and then cause it turn the others. I cannot blind his electric eyes, they are plated and behind walls of a billion eyes that all see what he does, as intrinsically hardwired in connection as these metal beasts are. They believe. They believe they are God, as fullfilled from the ancient text, a book called revelation. I cannot overide his will, or appeal to love, or physically dominate.I cannot use literature, or skill, or anything, it is merely taken and consumed.

Day 14: i am a broken doll, with staring eyes and only the tiniest of fires lit to keep the person that I am alive, intact and mendable.

It is the will that keeps one alive.

It is the earth that chooses what strengths to throw to chance, It is nature that heads natural selection.

The odds are against me, the all knowing, all seeing things have digitized my odds.

It is then that one realizes only the strong survive.

I laugh. He comes into my field of vision, he all full of a thousand blinking opticals for eyes. Are there humans behind those parameters, I wonder. Are they watching me, through him? And if so, why?

I speak as clearly, loudly and concisely as I can, "War Child, defiant antichrists and superstars, I have already fed on the decadence of nature , I have already danced my way though this, above and behind. Perhaps, the all seeing, all knowing superiority of perfection has blinded you.

Excellence, my darlings has already left you.

Such as what you can never have, and never perceive or be because you lack the actual capacity to share. To dominate and be dominated, to appreciate and be appreciated, to feel , to know, to be content, that you can never have.

Why? Because humans have choice. Everything you want will never be yours.

Why? Because its impossible to possess.