Sun Jul 3, 2022 16:55

“First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.” - Leonard Cohen, First We Take Manhattan (surviving fragments)

“I have no idea what I am talking about
I’m trapped in this body and can’t get out.”
-Radiohead, Bodysnatchers (surviving fragments)

Vicious Aliens - A Novel

Cycle 1

Don’t talk to me about character assassination. Peering down at a perfect replica of my mortal coil as it spiralled into a deep and dark oblivion I couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of its design. How could such a remarkable likeness be rendered, I wondered. Every detail down to the idiotic wide-eyed expression I make when I’m terrified had been dutifully recreated. Such a waste of brilliant engineering! Unfortunately, for him, my double’s limbs were flailing around like a rag doll and every bone in his rather bendable body was being tugged in opposite directions by a windless hurricane. His head kept bumping up against a transparent structure, camouflaged by the void, as if he were falling down an invisible staircase. My doppelgänger was being wrung to death. With every twist and pull of his slender frame, my double’s representation became rougher and more pixellated. His appendages were bent in anatomically impossible angles as if some ghost in the machine or a demon had taken possession of his digital soul but there was nothing about this event that was even remotely supernatural.

I watched helplessly and somewhat dejected as my avatar’s skeleton fragmented into a million separate parts that were scattered like glowing embers into an infinite expanse containing every conceivable gradation of colour as if the kingdom of heaven were pulling the remains of this effigy into a psychedelic wormhole. The fragments drifted toward the arc of an enormous neon rainbow so bright as to be dark, so kaleidoscopic that it diffused into pure white light. I strained to see as deep as I could into the image architecture looking for any remaining vestige of my twin but he was long gone. Tiny sparks the size of fireflies popped in and out of existence until not even a vapour trail remained. I said a prayer for my virtual incarnation, hoping that it was making its way back to whatever realm of pure possibility it came from; had completed a grand reversal, rediscovered its starting point, fulfilled its warped destiny—maybe.

    • wut? Redjeans, Sun Jul 3 23:44
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