Zombies Don't Exist
Before hospitals, before prescriptions, before diagnoses, would I have been autistic? Maybe bipolar. Manic-depressive even.
Klaus was sitting in Stefan's house. Thinking. One of the things you learn to do as a supernatural being is turn off your thoughts. Just do. Just be. The Indians and yogis had something right there. Wish they would eat more cows though, thought Klaus. Vegetarians taste like what most diet food probably tastes like to humans - shit. Except vampires don't have to worry about getting fat. So why waste your taste, as they say, on someone likely to be vegetarian?
Racism flashes in Klaus's mind. He smiles and thinks about the simple reason why he prefers Caucasians over Indians. Slaves, World War II, the Armenians and we're the bad guys?
Klaus's heart stopped long time ago but the wheels of his brain deny Klaus any serenity or stillness. Maybe that's what really differentiates vampires from zombies. The ability to think and to reason was a gift given to vampires. Zombies have no urgency, no rush. It's why we're fast and they're slow. It's not all bad. The brain keeps us hidden by encouraging us to wash and not to murder in public, Klaus chuckles to himself. There I go again. Thinking. And now I'm thinking of zombies.
Klaus sobers up again. There is no gift. Nothing is given.
Klaus's mind has been lazily stirring all day. Like a current that's slightly tugging on a child, if he doesn't stop now eventually he'll get pulled into heavier and darker regions. Weights so heavy that metal machines can't withstand the pressure.
Is your mind even on your side? Your mind is the most violent being you know. Cleave to your instinct, mate. Klaus gives himself a pep talk.
"What were you laughing about?" Caroline asks as she walks by.
"Oh nothing, dear. Nothing you would find amusing."
Caroline, indeed, would have found Klaus's zombie thoughts amusing. But it's hard to connect with someone like Klaus. Plus, he called her 'dear'. She hates when he does that. She walks behind the couch Klaus is sitting on, a little too close maybe. Klaus stiffens waiting for Caroline's finger to slide across his shoulder and down his arm draped over the back of the couch; it never happens.
