Chrome Xanadu #27: John's Descent/ Rebirth

Preface:

He only wanted to find that mental place again, years and years built up of effort wasted a newly realized phobia. In this futuristic dystopia, only the rules of where the atmosphere spread from could attone for collapsing metal behemoths juxtaposed with overgrown grass and scattered remnants of artifacts. The desolate landscape resembled a meat locker of chrome. Sentimental keepsakes are illegal. The year is 2023.

Story: John Smith walks up the almost 70 degree incline, another attempt at self medicating to the degree of a personal labotomy. Only a few years before he had noticed the littered landscape resembled his war torn, cluttered mind. That wasn't what was alarming, what was though was when his to be nemesis noticed. John always saw his mind as a projector screen. Just one more dosage and maybe his frantic empathy would subside long enough to abondon guilt and regret. All programmed, all narrative based. The only keepsake he was able to save from the fires was a metal heart shaped locket, inside a picture of his love. She and him had been separated during an outbreak of mental brain wave terrorism that divided and conquered all but the strongest, and most ruthless marauders. He was, well, at least for the most part certain a few key characters that knew of his extreme gifts of psychic redistribution, were the key players in his contracting to go deep cover and above the law. John had seen terminator, hell all of the 80s sci Fi classics, even read brave new world to the extent to pass high school final projects. Hah.. high school, he thought. Regularities like that only made the collapse of society more concentrated and easy. He would have done away with it all. Briefly, just before it all went to hell in a hand basket, he and his lover spent 3 of the greatest months he could remember in recent memory. "Why is there a market cap on my joy?" He thought. "I don't understand economics but I'm certain that honestly earned happiness isn't a commodity. And the evil scum was dispensed within my family! Within my own family! Right under my nose." But this is the irony in what roused his aggression and justified his violent career path: the desperate incentive to deprogram these matriarchal and matrix bot agents. Social media? Well sure THOSE bots were just a projection... Something... Slightly less sinister and only an extension. Only a surrogate of the true death creations of the subconscious collective. This was a planetary, no, a cerebral dimensional suicide on a scale never seen and never predicted. Only the fastest guns in the west (so to speak) could escape this whirlwind of unspeakable confusion.

He makes it to the clearing. The raging firestorm in this spot was the one that couldn't be extinguished. Couldn't be... Reasoned with. All the inanimate objects became self aware through sensation, and overpowered the living with such tenacity! Such fierceness. He looks at the locket. "She was real" he thought

"We... What we had was real"

This was all illusion. A tactic. A bold one and a shameless one at that from a density somewhere in the planets core.

"I can stay sane without sleep, why can't the chrome behemoths spawned from nothing but collective nightmares?"

He was sickened, but tossed the locket into the never ending fire pit below. Suddenly he woke up in his hospital bed. The rocky landscape outside disturbing but the collective memory fading. The year is 2021. The bedside phone rings, it's her. That tone in her voice squeaky, rhaspy, full of tender limitless affection. His faith is restored, his vision reorganized. This is chance number 27 to save her, save that which was prophesized but threatened by time constraints... The last of human energy before the descent into mindlessness. He clenches the locket, certain this time will be different. With no memory of past attempts he gets up and walks out, discharged into the world. Everything seems so benevolent. He isn't great at discerning, but this is the only possible way. Asking why is no longer an option, and describing it will only stress her mind more. He knows. He's been here before

To be continued...