I'll Sign

The dream is always the same. There is darkness, and danger.

I can't see anything, except the lights in the distance that keep getting bigger. The lights are never clear, but rather encased in a hazy fog. I know I am on a road from the feeling of stubbled pavement under my feet. I can't hear anything except the cold wind in my ears, and my feet scuffling the payment as I begin to walk towards the incoming lights. For a while I just keep walking towards them, all the while trying to blink and squint the fuzziness from my eyes.

And then somehow I find the strength to run.

Woman X-121-B

I saw her at the bus stop.

She almost seemed to glow amongst the concrete and walking flaws. It was at that time I knew I was looking at perfection in every sense of the word; not even a strand of her hair was out of place. The interaction was merely seconds in science, but seemed stretched out as it was experienced. I was not the only person who couldn't help but watch her pass by almost seeming to hover above the dirty streets in her tight, white outfit.

But I am sure I was the only one who caught it. The perfection gave her away where a stumble or a lipstick smudge would have hidden it still. I knew then that she was a replicant, and that technology had finally progressed to a bizarre and dangerous new level, for beneath the fake flesh would be cold metal, blinking lights, and spiralling wires.

This creation. This engineering job. Does she have a name or is it a model number?

Follow the Leader

Like ants you will follow me into the desert single file. The wind will blow the sand to cover our tracks. Not everyone will make it but, hey, we will grind whatever grist the mill requires.

Out there amongst the dunes I will create. A golden city at the edge of an ocean of sand.

A new Jerusalem.

Mahalo Masochism

Where is my angel?

Summer has brought the first of the long sweaty nights when your sheets soak through and you toss and turn searching for a cold spot. On these nights the mind is left to wonder in dangerous and disastrous ways. The kind of ways that illustrate the danger of free thought.

Should I create a naked news agency that would challenge CNN? Should I be a headhunter for old Soviet scientists and rogue states? Should I go deep in the Amazon to be worshipped like a god by native people who have had no contact with the outside world?

The last one shows the danger of such thoughts. No good would come of that. Only a one way trip to the lion pit.

Harder for Soft

I like everything hard - it doesn't really matter what it is.

Except you. I want you to be the softest thing in my life.

World on Fire

I think we are a little far from alright.

In fact, I think we are speeding away from alright at $1.50 a litre.

The world has become a jigsaw puzzle slowing breaking apart; the picture becoming lost amongst the fragments. What will remain when we do not? Skyscrapers like tombstones marking we were once here. Will anyone ever know that we once loved and were loved?

Slap that on a lunchbox, and hold me as the light bleeds out.

Adagio for Strings and Stars

Sometimes I fantasize about being a spaceman, about pushing off from my ship and just floating away. A never slowing, never ending glide through the heavens. In my ears symphonies, in my eyes the stars.

How far would I travel? What new things would I see? Blinded by the infinite space, infinite quiet, and infinite beauty, I would continue to float silently, effortlessly, and peacefully.

The music will never have sounded better than on such a stage. My breathing echoing softly in my helmet. I would become a spaceman with no mission or destination. Just a traveller journeying to one conclusion. And even after I have closed my eyes for the final time I would continue to float ever further away.