“you’re at it again! you’ve been in one of them haven’t you?” She walks past with the groceries towards the kitchen counter.
He jumps off the couch, hurriedly taking them off.
“Its not what it looks like! I made an executive decision, seeing that this one was about to “off “himself… Seemed like he had doubts about it and needed a helping hand, and I, I felt I could be that helping hand. You know, being that I’ve always wanted a go at one of those scenarios.”
Trying to hide a growing smirk, but failing at it, he turns and walks towards the bar.
She’s at the counter, groceries now on display. Mind between present conversation and what dinner should look like in an hour.
“I can’t do this right now! …You know what? I’m just going to have to leave you to your own devices, but mind you, we’re human, just like them. Did you even pause to consider that that MAN at the very last minute could have had a re-think of his actions? And if he did then what would that make you? Yeah! yeah!… a cold blooded KILLER!
Now standing at the bar, he’s pouring himself a drink of scotch.
YO! that’s cutting it a bit too deep babe. I tell you, there is NO WAY this guy was going to change his mind. I’m F..ing sure of that. I’d been in that mind of his enough times to know that the world out there was getting to the poor bastard. Besides, I’m sure his re-occurring dreams of heaven, by heave I mean here, left him wanting more out of that slum of a life of his.
“Wait a minute, you mean you brought hime HERE?!” The information overload leads to a fire in her chest that needs quenching. She walks up to him with a look of surprise and disgust, snatches the drink from his hand and walks back towards the kitchen area gulping it down in one violent go.
He continues, “Look it was only his mind I allowed here. I was sure to switch to paralysis mode each time I left him here, trust me. I left his eyes and senses to wonder, but never the possession of my body.”
“And just how many times did you put him through that”, she said “HOW MANY TIMES?”
I don’t know! …6, 7 times? about an hour or 2 for each session, I guess.
He pours himself another scotch. As he sips on it he reminisces, “O there’s this one time I had him here for over A DAY! Man, that was one fine experience out there”. He’s got that smirk again, but this time he stares into his glass with a far away look in his eyes as though back outside and in that moment.
She pauses cutting the vegetables, and with the same look of disgust she says “And you wonder why he wanted to commit suicide. You practically had that man feeling helpless. YOU TREATED HIM LIKE A FUCKING PUPPET. GOD!” She returns to cutting but with more vigour this time.
He hurries to hold her by her shoulders and looking into her eyes he says “ babe, babe, look, you need to understand. It gets really boring around here. Sometimes a guy needs to take the edge off, you know what I mean?”.
Then just drink already! You seem pretty good at that so far. Just don’t indulge in an already hellish environment by making the lives of those stuck there more unbearable for them. Realising herself for his grip she gasps, slamming a fist at ceramic cutting table; knife in the other hand.
“I honestly cannot believe you have the nerve to be all casual about this”. Point the knife in his direction. “Do you not understand what you are doing? And the length that you would go to lay the foundations of a suicide scenario. DON’T, even try denying it! We both know you only focused on that one specimen all because you intended to drive him to that point where he’d spiral, leading him to that last moment of despair.”
This time he gasps, trying to fake the horror of such an accusation, but at the last second he does a flip. “Well Brrravo DICK Tracy, Y’gat me! I must applaud you and your act of sanctimoniousness. Okay, so I took the liberty of running this little project on just one of the billions left behind in that hell hole. So what?!
You of all people know the shit guys in here pull in order to get off, taking up numbers of specimen at a time if they want. I’ve managed to keep it minimal and you want to – judge – ME? COME ON!
Its crazy enough that we stay stuck in this place telling ourselves we are safe from all the madness out there. All the pollution, all the violence!” Throwing his glass against the wall “Well it violent in here!” he growls, pointing feverishly at his temple.
He leans up against the wall in need of support for his now buckling knees and slowly crumbles to the ground. “I ca.., I can’t breathe babe. How, how do you do it, this… this composure of yours?” Now he’s rambling “an.., and they’re so near and yet so far!? I can almost touch them, can almost taste it, all the “life” that comes with sacrifice of being out there amongst the filth. I mean, we only need to open the door to be a part of them right?. In a persona of exhaustion he says “You may not get this, but zombie mode is the only way I keep myself from actualising what I helped that guy do today….”
“Dinner is ready!” she says, walking past him toward the table with a dish of whatever sustenance she’s got whipped up. In an unsettling composure like that of a Stepford wife, she fixes him a plate and then steadily floats towards him. She then kneels to meet his tired gaze, dish in hand. Laying the plat on the ground, she lovingly strokes his now sweaty face, “You are tired honey, what say we turn in for the night. You know… I’m not judging you or anything, I just need you to take on a different perspective on being here. This place… its technology, it makes gods of us all, but the price we pay… it takes that of a formidable mind to survive it all… the confinement, the solitude, the monotony? She sighs as though tired of trying to make him understand. “Come on”. Taking him by the arm she forces him up, greeting him with a long kiss. A smooch more of compassion than passion.
Later on that evening…
The room illuminates and a female figure is seen moving towards the couch where he earlier sat carrying out his arguable feat. Looking down at the couch she reminds herself, “It takes a formidable mind”. She does a great job at concealing how encaged she feels within these walls, during the day, but at night is where she will need all her strength. A formidable mind will keep you sane within these walls, yes, but it takes an even more capable and adept mind to puppet an animal specimen versus a human one.
Despite the challenges that come with indulging in the use of animal forms, one of them being the gradual eroding of moral sensitivity, she’d opt for it any time. Her basis for this decision, that humans themselves are trapped within an invisible barrier by their own conventions and conformities.
Now jacked up to the device she seizes control of her chosen beast for the night and with it she runs free. On some nights she’ll hunt; on others she becomes the hunted. The near death experience when being put to the slaughter; the pain of child birth, these are just a few of the scenarios in her bouquet of experiences she may pick and choose from each night. And lets not forget those evenings when she’s left at the mercy of her partner’s poor bed habits… this being one of them. She’s got the option of finding a mate or two during the course of the rest of the night.
…But tonight, tonight she’s got a different taste on her mind; on her tongue…
MAN…
*THE END*
… on inspiration’s Isle she waits that she may embrace unorthodoxy…
Festival King 