Tattos :D

With a rush of air, and a poof of his couch, Jor land’s on his couch, in his dull grey living room. Stressed and frail, “Made it” he calls out. He plugs his brain into the central network of the global interface and goes through his folders searching for his last recorded program and with a single thought switches it on and relaxes. The program plays in his mind, and he visually experiences it projected into his minds eye. He lets out a short sigh following the thought of panic he had moments before thinking his worm hole would close before he made it through the jump. A commercial plays, as he notices that he missed a bit of his show. The commercial is for a summer vacation trip; most of which are now tapped into your head, rather than experienced in reality. “This is a tough war” he sighs. “We are progressing into the final stages of complete cryogenics for the third time in the past 3 millenia, our resistance wont hold out much longer, we only have 4 army bases left, and not enough bug-free jacks” He thinks. “I can’t believe that even though we exist in level 2 they think they can push us to level 4 without the same happening as one and two” He shakes his head. When our surface selves were put to sleep for this global program, they though we wouldn’t regain conscienceness, but we woke 1000 years later, and because we were all linked in we did what any cluster of humans would do, we built a functioning world, I can believe it was due to long periods of sleep. We create a new reality as a natural function of existence, we were being kept alive, so our entities found a way to be present with out alive state. But cooperations (too many to name) managed to put us to sleep again through the same method used on the surface, they created a product, administered it to the general public, and we were put into a deeper sleep, with the hope that we are kept alive for an undertermind period of time, for what reason no one can be sure.” The thought is interrupted with a warning sound. Warning Warning, you are entering negative space, please control your thoughts. This is your first warning. A police notification appears in Jor’s mind, this isn’t his first.
 
“We are in the second stage, again our natural conscience created a space for the nature of existence to continue; as we are energy locked in space and time we need to exist if we don’t something somewhere will be destroyed, unbalancing the universe and beyond.” His thoughts continue, and the warning appears again, and this time Jor is shocked from his thoughts. “A tapped jack” he thinks, “I’m not anywhere close to debugged for another jump, fuck! Control you thoughts man, control your thoughts”. The paniced voice in his head silences and he is zen for a moment, and as he slips into almost a rested state, his thoughts start up again. “Many at this stage would unplug in the first level,” he thinks, “they didn’t have full control of us then, but now they do.” he continues, as his favorite show returns to his mind. “ On the surface, when this technology was brought in, we only had to plug in for an hour a day, and pay a subscription fee when money was something of use. Now, they have a biocybernetic virus which filters through our bodies, we can only be disconnected for around about an hour and 20 minutes before we are wiped. Interestingly enough this deep into our own sleep we have abilities not limited by “true reality”. We can run at the speed of light, slow time down (relative to our world) we can bounce and warp through space and time, but we always need to plug ourselves back in with 1 second to spare from our time limit. It’s the second stage of our sleep, and now they are pushing for the third and final. I dont know what’s happening on the surface, what the human race is being used for, but down here, when they push us to the third level of sleep, we will forever remain zombies, unable to think, or move, or process though, we will just be fed live streams of commercials.” Jors thoughts finish, and with that his final moments as a conscience being were lived. Initiation of third stage processing, the criminal Jor 453.5123, you have been punished with the ability to think freely, please enjoy your last moments of stage 2. Jor was no longer.

I somehow switched off my creativity; I’ve noticed I’m more devoted to an online game rather than spending my time creating worlds beyond natural comparison. I worry the negative around me; my ever progressing bad eating habit and addiction to junk food, the fact that I’d prefer to waste my afternoons vegging rather than learning, and the fact that my most cherished attribute, my imagination, is causing this self progressive and self forced withering the more I become dedicated to fitting into the slot that is outlined by the rest of a bland pictured puzzle.

I’m losing myself to live in a life that constricts the airways, and I worry. Should I push to make a change and develop into what I want to be, or do I play the safe card and dwindle away into a jaded corner were a great number of others seem to have presence? I feel like I’m essentially losing me. I don’t want to line the walls of my shell; I want to glow warmth and guide the world from within my shell. I want it to go back to being full, but rather it continues to empty unnoticed.

My imagination comforted me when I was at the best of times alone. I use to be able to contort the world naturally with my imagination and not fear the repercussions. I loved the thoughts that spun and wizzed around my head. They made me stand tall and say “This is what fills me, this is who I am.” Now I seem to have lost it for my career, and as I wish to fight for it I fear the failure my career fears for me. The thought of failure in this simplistic and made to seem easy system paints the walls of my now almost dim shell. I worry I paint those walls. I worry I’ll paint those walls and when they dry the reminiscence of a mind that could reshape an entire reality will stare directly into the hollow void it left behind to meet the face of a pale colour who’s only purpose is to avoid worrying about failure and what it means to be a failure. 

You have clipped my future

I am not able to spread my wings full

Parts are missing

Parts are missing

I’m missing my wing

there goes my freedom

I flap and squawk because I have a voice

and the wings but no flight

I am flightless

I am Flightless

You cannot see

I  cannot fly

I cannot fly with these

I am caged, heavy is this life of concealment

I do not have the right,

and that which I am not

that which I am not I have to be

And that which I am not I will be

I see it pleases

to stay in this cage

empty, flightless, and not me.