Flower Power

The line to get brain jacked was longer than ever... there was a sale on being a Kardashian for the weekend. I let my eyes roam over the flikr-vids advertising Marvel heroes, wondering if I’d enjoy being Black Widow for a time or maybe a member of the X Men. To be honest, the Hulk would more fit my mood. I’d just lost my third job in as many months and was so frustrated that raging out and smashing shit up really appealed to me. The line shifted forward another 10 inches. At this rate I’d be lucky to get Gilbert Godfrey eating a sandwich!

My impatient gaze, drawn by the sourly pungent smell of sage and patchouli, settled on a side window where a small queue was nearly nonexistent. People, dressed in cotton and hemp clothing, with hair the colors that nature “gave” them... Great. Hip-lifers. What a strange little subculture they seemed to be… with their non-synthetic, well…. Everything. Who could they possibly be lining up to experience? Jane Goodall? Gandhi? I blew the neon bangs out of my eyes and turned back to see what choices remained for my urgently needed weekend getaway. The Kardashians were out (thank god) and the list of available heroes was dwindling. I’d been in line for 5 hours... My eyes slid back over to the Hip-lifers.

Fine. I made a half disgusted, apologetic face at the ‘jack clerk and stepped out of line and over to the green bordered window. The attendant behind the gun and disease resistant glass didn’t even look up as I stuck my armband through the slot to have the entry fee pulled from my account.

Not very high end, whatever the experience was… only 200 hard-earned credits disappeared. I picked up the ‘jack and moved over to a recliner in the low rent section. Not really sure what I was in for but desperately needing the release, I plugged in.

How do you describe the sensation of your whole being exploding? I was overwhelmed with input. I’d done this so many times before but I was suddenly reeling trying to make sense of what I was experiencing.

Breathe. Deep breath. (Can I breathe?). I inspirated air and felt it tickle my wings.

Wings? What the hell? I calmed my racing thoughts and sent my mind into my extremities to take in my surroundings…. I had not experienced disorientation like this since my first brain jack (I’d become Queen Meredith on her inauguration day for my 18th birthday… complete hedonistic debauchery!)

I “opened” my eyes and looked around.

I was assaulted with color. As a “once professional” graphic designer I thought I’d seen and created all the colors there were to be seen on the planet. I was smelling/seeing/breathing... smelling?... Breathing?... Sure, why not?... golds and yellows that I’d never experienced before…. Transcendent. Glorious. Body shiveringly joyous.

This was absolutely nothing like the drunken, drug-fueled, sophomoric inauguration... a tedious waste, in comparison to this new existence.

My “feet” were resting on the softest surface they’d ever encountered. I could feel the life flowing through the petals…. Petals! I knew that word! The feeling mixed with the color-smells. Contentment and oneness coursed in exciting ripples down my spindly legs. I tentatively flexed my wings and hovered over the surface. My awareness expanded and I realized I was one of an ensemble. Bulbous black and yellow bodies, spikey with bristling hairs and dusted with <<food/sustenance/life>> …. (Pollen), hovered in various positions and heights on the <<petal soft>> flowers nearby. The symphony of their wings beating in concert with my blood and lymph.

My two minds became more on(e)line and I started to experience <<self>> as insect.

Supers-sisters with a singular purpose circled and dove on the currents. A breeze whispering across my delicate wings caused me to vibrate with joy. The sun tapped against my fur and I luxuriated in the companionship and warmth. My antennae could taste/smell the siren song of pollen and nectar. Golds were everywhere... deep and light and rich and pale, redolent of love and contentment. Swiftly on the heels of that thought, the “me” bee joined in the dance of my sisters.

I cavorted and flew and communicated... felt the dusting pollen on my extremities. Knew that our effort would feed the hive and the queen and allow our continued existence far beyond this momentary, joyous harvest.

...and it was over. I stayed in a reclined position as my brain tried to grasp where my wings had gone. Where were my sisters? Why was the world so singular faceted and drably colored? A hydro-straw appeared before my face and I gratefully gulped in the electrolyte infused dihydrogen monoxide. My gaze moved to take in the hand offering the straw. Natural nails, with a smudge of what I hoped what soil, grasped the EDM container. Meeting her eyes I was struck by the humor and compassion in them... she extended her other hand to me. I instinctively reached out and caught what she offered... A single flower. A glorious marigold.