Today's mood: This is going to hurt, isn't it :(
It's happened. I've only realized it. The same thoughts. The same phases. Perpetual de ja vu. I live one moment, forever.
My body decays. My body means nothing. Only a head remains. It dangles. It drips.
The shrimp creatures pop death throes all around me. The brain wires flicker as they fade to embers. Vision restored. Fresh moonlight glimmers off buildings through static and spasms.
We wait. The world vibrates. The world quakes in resistance to a failing machine.
Robot is tense. A coiled spring. A runner seconds before gunfire.
Breathe
Next: A building ignites in the distance. Copper fragments and pipe remnants meet atmosphere. It rains metallic, mixed with rocky chucks of what's left of Mountain.
A distraction. A sacrifice. A city on high alert.
Binary within the brain wires erupts. Overlaps. Ones and zeros have never felt so right. Robots loss bleeds into me. Infects me. His disease becomes my own.
I'm little more than fleshy doll head. A puppet. A swinging pendulum ignited with rage. This world is going to fucking burn.
I want this because Robot wants this. Robot has always wanted - ok listen, remember earlier when I told you you could go fuck yourself in regards to my revealing how long I've been trapped in this predicament? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I mean, things around here have been kind of stressful and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It's somewhere around day 65 if I was forced to guess.
So... we cool? Cool. Moving on...
The collective becomes alert, a faceless glow silhouetted by an encroaching dawn. Eight mechanical heads looking in eight different directions. They spin on an axis. Each a different face. Each a different emotion. All eyes and antennae, wired into a core at the center. They control the man with no face. They control the man with a mustache made of severed dicks. They control everything.
Except me. Except Robot. We are completely offline.
Gears spin as the city locks down. Buildings in every direction become covered in layered steel.
We have seconds.
The planet quakes.
Robot runs for the central spire. Past the herd of fix bots. Past mechanical death rays. Past the man with no face. A power slide ends with access to the central spire as the doors crash behind.
Have you ever heard silence echo? Reverberation that mean nothing. All sound sucked into a void. Loneliness made audible.
A grid of lights meet at the center.
Robot approaches. Robot kneels. Robot pulls off the door of a vault flush even with the floor.
Darkness. A pit. Formless echoes speak from somewhere unseen like a thousand digital whisper.
The chest cavity cracks. Swings open as Robot's body become horizontal. I evacuated at the speed of gravity. My brain wires catch inches from the point of impact. A hotdog dog down a highway. Teasing with just the tip.
I sense my purpose. I sense the core of this city. I sense a glee that's not my own.
Wires sprout from my neck as I near. They leak electricity and fluid. Sparks and oily bubbles form a residue that slowly congeals into a waxy flesh substitute. No arms. No legs. All torso and cock bursting with downed power lines violently twitching from holes that never before existed.
Robot thinks of Mountain. I think of Mountain. I think of a bathtub filled with blood splatter covering the naked form that was my body in another life.
This was meant to be.
Deal with it. *disembodied sassy finger snap*
