I lost my rocket shoes when I left them inside my car.
Busted passenger side door window. I can't afford a car alarm or airbags or any kind of deterrent. I let things happen all the time. The doctor said I couldn't get a replacement.
Showed up barefoot to the war base, chrome and mustard and my "bloody skunk" like self.
Well sort of. He implanted me with a lot of memories. Some of which involve self esteem and falsity. That was one of the memories. You have false memories, and you won't ever know which one are yours.
The only thing the doctor forgot was that I understood that concept well enough. I used to use the shoes pretty sparingly when I didn't want to limp around in the sedan. Gasoline instead of water, carpal tunnel, not bad knees, I guess it's carpal tunnel, I'll drive anywhere. but I used to run out past Station Square at night. Find the border between the light pollution and the stars. I can't name any constellations.
Doctor said he didn't have time for some Omega Shadow showing up like a solicitor on a Sunday (day of rest). This confused me because he had robots called Omegas, but I think he meant wolf pack slang for what I was.
I wasn't surprised he wasn't surprised to see me. I guess he thought we all went our separate ways across Mobius. He never stopped us from leaving. Rephrase, he never stopped me from leaving, but it gets old.
He fired a couple of lasers and I danced. I let things happen all the time. I want to imagine I heard him laughing as I ran off towards my car, driver's side front tire is low, should fix that before it gets cold again and deflates further.
I drew a picture of blood on a piece of a paper once before the knife got curious, what am I huh? The blood came out so fast I swear I could see the white blood cells or platelets or whatever. I thought I severed the nerve, but three stitches later and a scar and reusable thumb, I could play video games again.
Part of me thought about trying to find another Shadow or the real one. I could probably ask him to go get me some more, no no no, that's dumb. I just should do something else. I could just start running again for real. Get to some kind of tangible goal where the my breath is never heard again, despite the comforting sound of breathing.
I was the last one out of the chambers when we were released. My first breath didn't even shake as the liquid spilled out. Perfect control, no signs of any malice or miscalculated biology. Everyone else took off skating. Explosions in the distance sounding more and more like marbles being dropped by accident.
SHOOT THEM
it said
I can remember holding a pistol more than a few times. I have every scenario of Maria and Gerald dying. Different angles, multiple perspectives. Sometimes I killed her and sometimes I wing everyone before turning the gun and trying to read the model number.
R421-20335240420. Letters bouncing and streaming in. That's one of the jokes.
Other times I dream of it in flashes. Falling into the atmosphere does not feel like unwelcoming or welcoming. It just drops out from underneath, like if I had a soul, I would see it by then right? I rise up from the covers. Probably real I want to say that or probably fake, it depends on my reactions I guess, but I tend indifferently. I could go talk to the real Shadow, or maybe someone could write a biography.
My car hit the curb entering the driveway. A lug-nut rattles loose, rings out on the concrete, who knows where.
You are as real as the life you made I keep telling myself that monologue for a performance someone else might need to hear when they talk to me. I say "You ever feel like just by being alive you feel that you'll live forever, I think sometimes I'll make to the future just in time to hit escape velocit-"
SHADOW DON'T.
Gerald croaks.
Butt of the shotgun smashing whatever's in the vicinity. Maria sleeps-no one deserves to live like that-my forearm is numbing from the pain.
I drive out to the periphery, no headlights.
One time the Doctor told me that I was merely a social experiment, that I was born to live life normally and he wanted to see if there would be any notable difference from the real Shadow. A creature with his own memories surely I am that, but I will constantly be told stories?
Sometimes I feel more appreciative of life then I probably should be.
One time the Doctor said I only had 2 more years of life before I died or deactivated. At the time he didn't know I had tested some theories.
Lately I've bought paintings and opera music, like those things have their own lives too. They do, but again it is the life I give them, and I wonder if that is how the Doctor feels.
I wonder if the only reason I come back to see him at all is to see if he is proud of me.
My car turns off forgetting how much noise it makes. It's too cloudy and I knew that coming out here. But I guess the road didn't pass enough time.
Some old song about passing a winter house. Too cold to be walking or running. But I can guess missing the moment is worse. I wouldn't know, but I want to believe that I would have done the same. Someone probably hears it. The music is so close to the forest scaring everything out of sleep like some kind of dumb vengeance.
I stare at my feet, old tennis shoes, tied down double so the laces don't come loose, I stare at my feet and I dream of running through those loops that he did. The lonely peaceful breeze at my back, the sense of nothing collapsing into what holds me in place.
BREATHE