A little bit about me. I work as a QC Scientist for Pfizer, I've been there for four years. I perform all sorts of duties, most of which is in a microbiology lab. But anyway, enough about work. I enjoy drawing, reading, writing, playing bass guitar, hiking and running in my free time. I've been married for a year and a half and am very happy. My wife and I have a lot of fun together. We bond over our common love for the band 311 amongst other things such as sushi, we can't get enough of it.
So there you have it. A little bit about this blog and a little bit about my life. Without further ado, here is one of my short stories. I hope you enjoy it. Tell me what you think:
A Little Tweaked
Today is the very first entry into my journal. I can only write at night, before bed. Lord Father discourages creativity in his children, but I don’t care. I have an urge to write, I’m not exactly sure why. He doesn’t seem to watch as closely at night, so I can get away with writing. I found this old book called the “Bible” to write in. My journal entries will have to be written perpendicular to the text, along the edge of the page.
I woke up with a funny feeling, like something isn’t quite right. During Morning Prayer I met a man named 13. Morning Prayer is the time when everyone in the city meets at the assembly hall and listens to the teachings of Lord Father, the most powerful computer in the world. He created us, flesh from machine. 13 told me that life wasn’t always like this; he said Lord Father brain washed us all to believe that we are progeny of him, his children. He said we’re all a little tweaked, not sure what he means by that. I’m not sure if I trust 13.
I startled awake this morning at 7am, the mandatory awakening time. I had an unusual dream. I dreamt I was a famous writer. I was at a book signing or something like that even though I don’t know what one is. Lord Father never taught us about book signings. I was at one end of a room filled with people. Everyone smiled as they came up to me, holding their copies of my book. The dream seemed so real.
It is now afternoon, morning prayer finished on time as always. It is now group lunch, where everyone sits and eats in the mess hall. I shouldn’t be writing during lunch, this is not smart…….
I just got back from three hours of detainment for creativity crimes. I found a piece of card board to write on. The androids caught me writing during lunch. One of them handcuffed me, the other set my journal ablaze right in front of me.
Morning Prayer did not go so well today. 13 stood up and started shouting. This is what he said: “Don’t you all remember a year ago when we had normal jobs. We lived normal lives. We were allowed to be creative, to think, to live, to dream. That machine over there re-programmed us. The supposed Lord Father didn’t do a good job with me. You wanted a prisoner, right? Well, you didn’t get one.” Those were his final words. He was executed on the spot, right where he stood. The Androids rushed over to him and silenced him with a morphine shot, three times the lethal dose, I was told.
It’s now approaching mandatory sleeping time. I’m running out of room on this piece of card board. Until next…….