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Author Topic: Delerium  (Read 2175 times)
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spiderviveka
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« on: July 23, 2007, 02:34:04 pm »



Part 1

The last thing I remember is walking home from school. I think I was carrying a backpack and it was cold. I had hair then, long and brown and I am not entirely sure what happened to it. I don't really have memory of much else. I think my name is Phoebe, and that I am probably around fourteen years old. I must have parents somewhere out there because I have faint traces of memory of sharing my life with a man and a woman. But those, like everything else in my mind, fall over the brim of sanity into the dark abyss of the unknown. I do not know why I am here or where I am for that matter, but I know they have robbed me, whoever they are. They stole my life, my mind.



And now I am carrying what could only be a fetus in my abdomen. When I first woke up there was nothing there at all, no swollen knot under my skin, no life force feeding off of me. And as far as I remember, though I am not trusting my mind at all these days, the only way you can get pregnant is to have sex, and that is not something I remember ever doing at all. I get the sickly, sneaking suspicion that why ever it is that I am here, revolves entirely around the tiny, nearly human creature that I am carrying in me.



I must have read every book on this shelf in my cell three times by now. I am beginning to know "The Mismeasure of Man" by heart. I can not understand why they, whoever they are, gave me books. Or a bed for that matter, or a toilet and sink. They seem to want me to have the comforts of living a normal life, yet force me to live in complete solitude.



They feed me three meals a day, they usually consist of different masses of slop, some taste salty, some sweet. They all range in color from a pinkish gray to a greenish gray and have the consistency of a slightly more gelatinous form of grits.  Every day, they push the plates through a slat in the wall. Every day its the same luke warm temperature. They never give me anything to drink, I drink tap water from the sink that tastes as if someone has poured bleach in it. But if you dehydrate enough, any water may seem appealing.



I remember strange things sometimes. The come and get me out of bed at night while I am sleeping. They do things like shave my head, put me up on a cold metal table and run tests. I feel more and more like a lab animal and less like a human being as each of these fleeting quasi dream memories pass through this wrecked electronic mess that is my mind.



I remember waking up, if ever so briefly, in a tub of blood with men in masks and white coats around me. Shove another pill down my throat. Two gloved fingers tapping my arm to find a pulse. To find a venue to make me forget. I only forget enough to make my memories seem like a distant thought, I only remember enough to inspire nightmares for the rest of my pathetic, caged existence, sleeping and otherwise.



As I can remember them, the ones who keep me here, there are two of them. A man and a woman. The man with dark hair and piercing eyes of an almost mechanical nature. Thin and cruel in the way he moves, hands constantly bearing syringes, vials, feverish guilt.



The woman is blond with bright eyes, the rest of her face is always obscured by a mask and she mumbles to herself in strange foreign tongues. I saw here once through the door window. But I have never seen anyone in the adjacent hallway since then.



And sometimes at night I see strange things, I think it is the isolation starting to eat at me. Judging from my stage in this apparent pregnancy, it has to have at least been seven or eight months. I can't keep track of the days anymore since I have no sight of things as simple as daylight, not to mention a clock. I measure the days by my sleep cycles, and their blinding monotony is only broken up by the strange apparitions. The glowing orbs of light that tell me to disembowel myself with the spoon provided to me by my captors with my meals, and the strange rabbit like thing that chews up the eyes of its enemies and laughs like a weak and feeble child.



Then there is the girl with the half rotted off face, with the maggots swimming under her skin, giving it the appearance of expensive rice paper. She screams and cries, she says she was my sister, that I betrayed her and threw her to the wolves to be devoured. She tells me to watch as she pries her chest open and eats what is left of her own worm infested heart, that she wants mine next.



She paces about, screaming and crying and shaking. Speaking in what sounds like tongues and ripping out hair along with bits of flesh.



And then I start pacing and screaming and crying and shaking too. I rip at my scalp with my fingers but have nothing to grab a hole of. There is nothing there at all so I did my nails into the sides of my head and make a feeble attempt to shelter myself from the ever loudening noise.



And once I finally come to peace with the chaos around me, once I become content to have the company of the moaning, screaming, dead thing, I find myself all alone again. All alone with strange tissues growing in my stomach, something that was starting to feel less and less human as every sleep cycle passed.



I can feel it kicking and moving, throwing hard punches from the inside of my abdomen, I am frightened to see what it will turn out to be, I am frightened that I will never see my baby as well. This isn't how I would have imagined it, you know. I was like any other little girl, playing dress up in her moms clothes and carrying around some worn and chewed baby doll. I had the american dream. A picket white fence and a nice brick house in the suburbs, a good job and a loving husband, I always assumed that during my first pregnancy I would be out shopping for baby clothes, picking out names. But none of that is the case now, none of it. I am in an oversized rat cage with a baby fathered by god knows who. I feel like I am supposed to be happy but all I feel is the most primitive form of fear.



And as I feel this baby kicking me as I prepare myself for my next sleep cycle, all I can think, is that it will be time to have it soon.


To be continued.
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Maggots are just flies in sleeping bags.
cookie_monster8
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« Reply #1 on: July 23, 2007, 02:54:05 pm »

Wow. Sounds Amazing.
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satsoveranddone
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« Reply #2 on: July 23, 2007, 04:28:35 pm »

wow
it does sound amazing
i hope there is a update soon?
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spiderviveka
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« Reply #3 on: July 23, 2007, 06:36:38 pm »

Delirium

Part 2


There are two strange things that I noticed when I woke up today. The first being that there was a rather odd looking man in my cell, the second being that I was no longer pregnant.



I screamed when I saw him, I thought he was another hallucination, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and hushed me. Upon closer inspection, I realized that he was a collection of both mechanical and human parts, he seemed to be, and I hated the thought of the word, a cyborg. A cyborg who was indeed wearing strange blue medical garb.



I only ceased in the panic evoked by my new guest when I noticed something very crucial was missing. I wasn't pregnant anymore, and not only that, but there were a series of stitches in my stomach which were only then starting to ache.



"Phoebe?" he said, I was shocked to hear my own name, it had been so long "I have come to rescue you Phoebe, the scientists are dead, I killed them, we have to leave now."



I just stared at him in disbelief "But... who are you?" I asked him as if i were a lost child, to which he responded "I am T-07, Come Phoebe, we have much to do, much to discuss."



For the first time In who knows how long, I walked out of that door all on my own. T-07 took me down the hall to what appeared to be a laboratory, where the two scientists from my dream memories lie dead in the floor. In amazement I looked up at the cyborg and asked him "how did you do that?" and he smiled and said "I turned the gas on during an experiment they were doing on me, this lab is an airtight room and it wouldn't have leaked to the rest of this building, they died of carbon monoxide poisoning." I asked him what happened to my baby and he frowned and didn't say anything at all. And just at the sound of his silence I felt my heart crush, collapse in on itself.

I didn't even want that baby, or know where it came from, but I know that that silence is bad. He hugged me and whispered in my ear "I was the father you know". I blinked and looked up at him "What? Why?" He went on to explain that it wasn't his idea, that the scientists who created him in the very lab where they lay dead also wanted to do testing in the reproductive health of cyborgs. So they spliced his DNA with that of a regular human, me. He finally broke down and told me that the baby was born with irreparable birth defects, he died shortly after he was cut out of me.

 "How long have I been gone?" I asked, as if he would know, all he could tell me was "Years and years". Apparently they accomplished this through the use of cryogenics, not to mention the longievety of their own lives. Because both of the corpses I saw on the floor in that lab appeared to be no older than 28 years of age. It was hard telling how long I had been gone, and if I did have a family, they could possibly all be dead.



T-07 and I walked outside of the building together, the sun was blinding and he confessed to me that he had never seen it in person or even been outside before, it was burning his eyes. It was burning mine too. And for the first time in so long, I could breathe fresh air and see the sky and the dead grass and the city streets snaking below.



We looked over the hillside and the sun was beating down on our skin. We enjoyed the warm shower of light and looked all around, searching for which direction to go next. We were free.



To be continued.
« Last Edit: July 23, 2007, 06:38:52 pm by spiderviveka » Logged

Maggots are just flies in sleeping bags.
cookie_monster8
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« Reply #4 on: July 23, 2007, 06:48:03 pm »

Wow! That was even better than the first part. (and that part was amazing)
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