Today's mood: Dismal
A surge. A vision of a field. Endless. Perfectly level. Neon
grass in all directions. The connection grows stronger. I see what Robot sees.
He sits in the center of the meadow. A nucleus. Legs crosses.
Indian style. Thoughtless. Emotionless.
The horizon flashes. An orb of light appears. A shadow
emerges. Robot trembles as the orb collapses behind the silhouetted figure. I feel
fear though the connection.
The shadow approaches. He’s close. Air from the bottom jaw
up. A blue business suit. A Windsor knot. A red rose nailed to the lapel. Dried
blood stains its edges.
Robot beeps. It echoes within the chest cavity. The connection
is pain.
The man with no head stops inches from Robot, dwarfed by his
massive size. Looks up with eyes that do not exist. Liquid squirts from his
neck. Every three seconds. Like clockwork. A geyser of spinal fluid.
He speaks, tongue flailing above a set of pearly white. A
series of hisses and buzzes. Deep. Atonal. Like a snake getting fucked with a
vibrator. The words come from both nowhere and everywhere at once.
I understand nothing.
Robot says nothing.
A new vision comes through the connection. An illusion. A
daydream: A thousand robots. A city made of gears.
The pain subsides. Robots terror is my terror.
The man with no head hold up a hand. A waxy nub gives birth
to three digital fingers. An implied threat. An implied smile. Robot understands
completely.
Dusk settles upon the meadow.
The man with no head turns.
The man with no head evaporates within an orb of light.
The man with no head is a fucking maniac.
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