Sick
By Vortex
"And maybe then you wouldn't get so sick of me,
And maybe then you wouldn't get so sick of meee."
Sick – Sneaker Pimps
Sick.
Sick is a funny word. It can mean a number of things. There's the sick when you want compliments, the sick as in a stomach ache, the sick that renders you to your bed and, finally, the bad kind of sick. The sick in the head.
Apparently I'm the last of those.
That's what they tell me.
But I don't believe them.
They say that I'm just hallucinating. That I didn't see what I saw. But I did. I know that I did. And, in a way, I think they know its real to. I think they know that the flowing green lines of symbols are there, that reality isn't real and I think there covering it up.
I suppose it all started with the dream.
That dream.
I was running. Running away from something. Something that I knew would kill me if it caught me. I remember that there was rubble, wires and metal everywhere. I remember pushing through them, Reaching out from where they covered me up. Then I remember jumping to my feet, bleeding and broken, and running for my life.
Have you ever run for your life?
Most people would say yes. Of course you have. Away from a mad cow, or horse, or a dog that is about to attack. But that's not what I meant. I meant running for your life. Away from death. Going numb so that all you can think about is your next millimeter, centimeter or meter being your last. Then feeling a stabbing pain in your side, knowing that you've pushed yourself to far. Feeling your legs buckling and knowing your going to die. Accepting it. Even running towards it to shorten the experience.
Then taking notice of your surroundings.
Of all the nightmares in the world that was the worst. Seeing those people all like that. Wired up to some unseen intelligence, oblivious. Great needles sticking out everywhere imaginable. No hair. Completely naked from head to toe. Inside a red liquid.
Then the dream ended.
I figured it was just a nightmare. You know, one made from pieces of science fiction. Then the dream came again. And again and again.
And this time it was accompanied by symbols.
Flowing green symbols that covered everything. Every where. Even the neighbors cat as it strolled along the fence on its morning walk. Shining with a pale green light that blinded me, brighter than anything I've ever seen. Flowing on a blanket of black nothingness that engulfed everything.
People say that the main two colors are black and white.
I know they are black and green.
Everything is derived from a blanket of black and green.
And it was so real.
It was so real.
I tried to tell people about it. But either they've all been brainwashed into denying everything or they seriously don't see it. Perhaps I am crazy. Perhaps all this was derived from my desire to aspire to something more. To get away from this world and start again with people.
People.
I've never been so good with people.
Machines, yes. Computers, totally. I can hack into anything. Get any info that you want. I even think that….
No.
It's not real.
I was hallucinating.
I never broke out of the Internet.
I never saw the same green code on the screen as I did that morning.
It was all a hallucination.
They have computers here, in this place, but I'm not allowed to use them. It's in my record. Apparently I am addicted to computers, hacking and technology. That's what it says in my file.
You know what I think.
I think I got to close.
I think I hit on something that was bigger than anything before. That could change the world if I succeeded. Break a hold that someone, no, something has over the human race.
No one ever came to see me here.
Ever.
And I don't blame them.
Who would want to see a person who rambles about a green code she saw one morning and how machines entered our brains and are now growing us for some evil purpose.
No one ever came to see me here, until today.
And I know who he is.
I'm sure of it.
He's one of them, the lost ones, we used to call them. The ones who suddenly disappeared without word or note. Without e-mailing, leaving a message or so much as a log onto our chat room. I made a hobby of trying to find out what happened to them. Where they went. I never succeeded.
Until now.
This man is Neo.
I'm sure of it.
And he's here to see me.
Not anyone else.
Me.
Perhaps I'm not crazy.
I know I'm not crazy.
He's pushing something through the small slot that people give us things by.
A red pill and a blue pill.
I know what this is. I've read about it a lot.
And I think I made my choice a long time ago.
"And maybe then you wouldn't get so sick of me,
And maybe then you wouldn't get so sick of meee."
THE END
Based on concepts by Andy & Larry Wachowski.