CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
He was sitting there, in the dark. It felt dark anyway. The light was on, his monitor was bright, but it felt dark. In his mind.
He clicked refresh again. He had nothing else to do. He saw nothing worth reading on the message board. He had no desire to post. Yet he had nothing else to do. So he clicked refresh again.
He thought of listening to music, but what would be the point? In one ear, out the other...well, no, not out the other. His strangely literal mind wouldn't let him use that expression. It would just dissolve inside his head, without effecting him, without moving him, without giving him any please. The only way he could possibly listen to music if if he was doing absolutely nothing else. No distractions, and it might get through. But that would be a waste of time. You only live once. Can't waste it doing nothing but listening to music! Multi-task!
Except he wasn't capable of multi-tasking. He can only hold one thought in his mind at a time, no matter what it was, no matter how inane. That one thought would consume him. He'd become that thought, and nothing else.
What are we but our thoughts, after all?
He clicked refresh again. Nothing to reply to. He thought about how there was nothing to reply to. And that was him, that was all he was, the thought that there was nothing to reply to.
He clicked refresh again. New message! He felt what he might once have called "pleasure" but it was do diluted that he wouldn't feel comfortable giving it that name. Turned out the new message was just a spambot. He replied with "CHICKEN FISH, I LIKE HITLER" anyway.
He sat there. He felt mild frustration.
He clicked refresh again. He decided he was definitely going to write music. Maybe try to write something? Nah, too much. Besides, he had no thoughts. He had nothing to write. Except about how he kept clicking refresh.
He clicked refresh again. And then everything went dark.
Not the faded, half asleep dark, but actual dark. It took him a few seconds, longer than it should have taken, to realise that there had been a powercut.
He didn't panic. He wasn't scared that his world, the internet, had just disappeard before his eyes. He just sat there, not thinking. Not existing.
Finally he got up. He wondered if this was really happening. He'd never felt more dead. He wondered if maybe he should just sit back down and wait for the power to come back on, even if it took all night.
But he decided that really the only logical thing to do was go to bed. It wasn't as if he was awake anyway.
He groped around in the dark. There was no fear. He used to be afraid of everything. He tripped over the carper and was slightly disappointed that he didn't fall and break his neck.
He found the torch in the hall, made his way upstairs, climbed under the covers, turned the torch off, and shut his eyes.
He wasn't sure how long it took him to get to sleep. It wasn't as if there was much difference between being awake and being asleep anyway.
Some hours later he woke up and realised he'd went to bed fully clothed.
He clicked refresh again. He had nothing else to do. He saw nothing worth reading on the message board. He had no desire to post. Yet he had nothing else to do. So he clicked refresh again.
He thought of listening to music, but what would be the point? In one ear, out the other...well, no, not out the other. His strangely literal mind wouldn't let him use that expression. It would just dissolve inside his head, without effecting him, without moving him, without giving him any please. The only way he could possibly listen to music if if he was doing absolutely nothing else. No distractions, and it might get through. But that would be a waste of time. You only live once. Can't waste it doing nothing but listening to music! Multi-task!
Except he wasn't capable of multi-tasking. He can only hold one thought in his mind at a time, no matter what it was, no matter how inane. That one thought would consume him. He'd become that thought, and nothing else.
What are we but our thoughts, after all?
He clicked refresh again. Nothing to reply to. He thought about how there was nothing to reply to. And that was him, that was all he was, the thought that there was nothing to reply to.
He clicked refresh again. New message! He felt what he might once have called "pleasure" but it was do diluted that he wouldn't feel comfortable giving it that name. Turned out the new message was just a spambot. He replied with "CHICKEN FISH, I LIKE HITLER" anyway.
He sat there. He felt mild frustration.
He clicked refresh again. He decided he was definitely going to write music. Maybe try to write something? Nah, too much. Besides, he had no thoughts. He had nothing to write. Except about how he kept clicking refresh.
He clicked refresh again. And then everything went dark.
Not the faded, half asleep dark, but actual dark. It took him a few seconds, longer than it should have taken, to realise that there had been a powercut.
He didn't panic. He wasn't scared that his world, the internet, had just disappeard before his eyes. He just sat there, not thinking. Not existing.
Finally he got up. He wondered if this was really happening. He'd never felt more dead. He wondered if maybe he should just sit back down and wait for the power to come back on, even if it took all night.
But he decided that really the only logical thing to do was go to bed. It wasn't as if he was awake anyway.
He groped around in the dark. There was no fear. He used to be afraid of everything. He tripped over the carper and was slightly disappointed that he didn't fall and break his neck.
He found the torch in the hall, made his way upstairs, climbed under the covers, turned the torch off, and shut his eyes.
He wasn't sure how long it took him to get to sleep. It wasn't as if there was much difference between being awake and being asleep anyway.
Some hours later he woke up and realised he'd went to bed fully clothed.
