The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by Green Day
The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by sweetPixiesmile
It's the earliest memory that I have. A half forgotten dream populated by smudges of shadow against a glowing, antiseptic white. There was a voice, whimpering, sobbing. There are voices, cold, fearsome, warping and waffling along the topology of my fragile consciousness. Some indistinct, some, painfully clear.
"Is it ready?"
"All tests indicate successful integration,-"
"Good. Get it set up and in the program."
"Just remember, like the others, there is not guarantee that there will be any indication-"
"I know. I heard you the first twenty times. C'mon. Budget's a wasting and the mopheads won't wait."
A pause, a cooling in the air. Then a sudden warmth.
"C'mon, you can open your eyes," a third voice, gentle and unafraid, crouching over the shivering, trembling "it".
The sobbing stops.
The whimpering eases.
She should have been afraid. She should have.
"Mama?" I say.