Kiss of the Mouse
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You find out more here then anywhere. No newspaper or TV broadcaster can give you the goods as fast or as thoroughly as this.
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Channel 2 News is calling it "Suicide Club". Every techie on the web knows otherwise- There is no Club. Only victims. Ten more white dots today, twenty five more red.
It's just one more fad for the little school girls and boys- one more, one last way to fit in. There's no desperation or sadness in their acts. Only victimization, only pathetic submission.
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It's different for techies. We see everything through a haze of glowing screen and streams of numbers, pure, true information.
The tapping of the keyboard.
The flickering of the monitor.
The whirr of hidden, beautiful machinery.
The kiss of mouse to link.
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I wouldn't choose death, because I don't think there's computers beyond. I'd rather live forever with my machine.
As it were, the cold bridge of glasses across my nose is a constant reminder of mortality.
As is the feeling of the sack wrapping itself around my body.
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The over bright expanse of the bowling ally is a far cry from the small, quiet darkness that is my nook. These sick Malice Mizer cast offs are foolish for pretending to be at the center of the Suicide Circle, but I was foolish to think that my attentions on the matter would draw that notice of fanatics.
Death is cold and hard at first.
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And then it's the blackness of a bat's wings fluttering through the dark.
And the distant Kiss of the Mouse.
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