Strange Machine - Alone
Oct. 15th, 2004 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
julietFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mistersleepless' Strange Machine project (more details here) - 200 word fiction on futurity.
Alone
Information streaming through the mind. That warm comforting knowledge that everyone you care about is out there. Communication on-tap, the constant social drip-drip-drip. Living online even in realspace, the electronic part of the physical part of the electronic. E-proprioception.
I can't feel it any more.
They tell me they'll be able to replace the implant, eventually. A difficult operation, they say; my body needs time to recover first; the damage the original did as it imploded will be hard to work around. But they'll manage it, they tell me, nodding brightly. They won't give me probabilities. I can't work out if they mean it, whether the sympathy/discomfort in their eyes relates to temporary deprivation or the possibility of permanent loss. Freak accident, they say, nervously stroking that patch at the base of their skull, smiling at me, reassuring themselves.
They tell me I'm lucky I came out of it as well as I did. They tell me it could have been much worse.
I can't feel anything, anyone out there. Trapped in my brain, hammering at the edges.
They tell me it won't be long now, as they back out of the door, smiling and nodding, leaving me alone.
mistersleepless' Strange Machine project (more details here) - 200 word fiction on futurity. Alone
Information streaming through the mind. That warm comforting knowledge that everyone you care about is out there. Communication on-tap, the constant social drip-drip-drip. Living online even in realspace, the electronic part of the physical part of the electronic. E-proprioception.
I can't feel it any more.
They tell me they'll be able to replace the implant, eventually. A difficult operation, they say; my body needs time to recover first; the damage the original did as it imploded will be hard to work around. But they'll manage it, they tell me, nodding brightly. They won't give me probabilities. I can't work out if they mean it, whether the sympathy/discomfort in their eyes relates to temporary deprivation or the possibility of permanent loss. Freak accident, they say, nervously stroking that patch at the base of their skull, smiling at me, reassuring themselves.
They tell me I'm lucky I came out of it as well as I did. They tell me it could have been much worse.
I can't feel anything, anyone out there. Trapped in my brain, hammering at the edges.
They tell me it won't be long now, as they back out of the door, smiling and nodding, leaving me alone.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-18 08:49 am (UTC)Yes, well, I *already* get twitchy if I'm removed from an internet connection/my laptop for any length of time, so... You should have seen Pete when his email vanished for 3 days due to unexpected hosting problems - I was getting really quite worried about him :-)