Post by architeuthisdux1 on Oct 27, 2006 21:56:06 GMT -5
I know that i have already given you two ideas before this one that i have not done anything about, but imagine this. Its kinda matrix like...
People live their normal lives. They are born, they work random jobs wherever they are needed, and sometimes get sick. When that happens, they faint suddenly and wake up much later, not remembering anything. WHat is the truth behind these strange mysteries? Is there a sinister force manipulating their very lives? You'll have to read to find out....
What do you think? And if i get postive response i will try to get this written..it'll be short though.
Im not getting any response..so here it is anyway.
The sun shone through the window, its brightness bringing him to full consciousness. He jumped of bed, and, like an unseen hand guided him, he performed his daily routine of getting ready. It was all second nature to him now; he had been working for so long. He lived alone; no one greeted him in the morning. No one welcomed him home at night. He ate a small meal for breakfast, and then began to walk to one of his jobs. He had many of these, many menial tasks to support himself. Today, he started out at an office, and he began to type something.
When he left the typewriter, he had just created a business letter of some kind. He didn’t pay attention to its contents, just scanned over it to see the mistakes. There were a few, so he corrected them, but after that it was ready. He carried it to the post office and mailed it. He knew that it would be immediately sent to the address. He was done with this job today. Now, what must he do next? He was guided to the nearby video store. It was right next to the library. He took a short movie from them, and watched it on his home television. It was a scene of perfect serenity, the ocean waves rolling in and out, gently lapping at someone’s feet, and then…
Instantly a figure popped up and screamed at you. He felt no surprise, no emotions at all. He the returned the clip to the store and began another task. This time, he headed to the library. The library’s dimensions were incredible, and its confines held information about every subject imaginable. Its information stores grew by the thousands everyday. He found an interest today in. He wasn’t sure why, it was just instinctive. It was as if he had never had an interest for anything else. He learned that, “A particle accelerator is a device that uses electric fields to propel electrically charged particles to high speeds and magnetic fields to contain them. There are two basic types: linear (i.e., straight-line) accelerators and circular accelerators.”
He was no longer interested in this subject, yet he was still at the library. He was looking for a place to discuss things. He needed to voice his opinion, see how others felt. He searched for this, and found, in the very back, hundreds of glass boxes, each containing large and small amounts of people, from just 1 to over 300. They were all shouting at each other, some agreeing, and some contradicting. Each box was labeled a different subject, and many had creative names. He went over to one box. It said, “Natural Discussion.” He opened the door, and, like a wave of sound, voices briefly drenched the whole library.
He stayed in the box for a long time. After he had nothing left to say, he went out of the box. Most of the other people had gone as well. He left the library too, and began to feel very tired. Everything began to disappear. The library was gone. The video store was gone. The office was gone. He was back at his house, in his bed, his eyes slowly closing. After a few seconds in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he finally fell asleep. He dreamed nothing. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. It was as if he had died. But he knew that death was not taking him yet. This happened nearly every night.
He woke up later, much later, but felt his purpose was changed. His very reason for living was different. He walked through the same town, but instead of working, he went to a clothing store. A female one, though. He looked at countless articles, one after another, aimlessly sifting through the multitudes of items, without actually intending to buy one. He was doing this for many hours. Finally, he left, and then went to a large facility that looked like a warehouse. There was a teller at the front, and you had to give your name and password to him. He did this, and came into a large warehouse, thousands of people filling the room with their senseless rambling. Some of them were dressed in yellow shirts, some in red, some in blue, and others in many different colors. Each color group was separated by a partition. I went to the green group and began to talk with them, with words fed to me. I was just a medium, through which an unknown voice conversed. All of the rest were like me.
He was tired of this, and left. Most of the other people in the room had as well. He went outside again, and was direct to the music store. He had no idea why, he was not in control of his interests, nor his motions. He was led to a CD that I did not know. Regardless, he picked it up, and brought it to the clerk. He asked to purchase it. He handed it to him, and the clerk froze for a few seconds, and then put the CD through a slit in the counter, and gave it to him. It was now his, though he did not listen to it. He had no idea why had even purchased it.
After departing from the music store, he walked down the sidewalk. He watched an ambulance drive down the street, siren’s blazing. Someone was sick. Surely the health department would visit their homes soon, for disease was very contagious in this city. They would try and find the cause, and eliminate before it spread. Immediately following the ambulance, a squad car came flying down the street, its sirens blazing as well, headed the other way. There must have been theft or vandalism somewhere. They had to find who had done that, and it would be a long, tedious process. The thief could be anywhere now.
After this long day, he felt tired, very tired. It was not time yet, he thought. He couldn’t be asleep now. It was not time. Why was he tired? He could not find out why. His eyes slowly closed, yet no bed materialized around him. He fell down, not aware as of then the horrible truth of his sudden sleepiness. He was sick. Sick like the man in the ambulance. That man, or woman, he had no idea their fate. He would soon know.
It felt like years later when had lifted from his slumber. It was not though. The doctors had been working on him for many days. The doctors told him he had been delirious, shouting out random words, waking up and falling asleep at random intervals, shouting out lists of all he had done in the past few days. It had taken great skill, but he had finally been healed. He would have to stay in bed rest for a while and would need constant checkups, but he would be all right.
He left the hospital today, and, once he got home, fell asleep immediately. He saw nothing during his dreams. He felt nothing, saw nor heard nothing. He carried this rest on for several days, making visits to the hospital every once in a while. They gave him new blood, replacing most of the old, to keep him fresh. He remembered nothing from the days before, memory of those events had been erased. After continuing several more days like this, he emerged from this rest and carried on normal activities. Most of them were repetitive cycles of visiting the library, the music store, the typewriter office, the post office, and the warehouse.
Occasionally, he would go to the post office not to send mail, but to read it. He received a lot of mail, but most of it he ignored; he disposed of it with a spasm, not even performing it with the help of his mind. Whatever he didn’t ignore he stuffed in a bag he carried to post office. He did not read any of the mail. He felt like his eyes were being looked through by someone else. They read the mail. They threw it away, not he.
After visiting the post office, he walked to the park. Sitting there at a table was a set of cards, and another man. He played solitaire against the man. It was not entertaining, yet I could carry on with this for hours. Suddenly, my game ended. The man disappeared. My room appeared around me, and I slept. When I woke up, I continued typical routine for many, many days. It was not monotonous, it was not delightful, it just was. He felt no emotion pertaining to his routine, and that is how it should be. He carried on with this for a long time, until he got sick again.
This time, he was in the library when it happened. He opened a book on the subject “wallpaper” and immediately a large piece of cardboard popped up from its pages. It launched a cloud of dust at him. He coughed once, and then fell on the ground. Surely they had to come for him, to bring him to the hospital. In his viral-induced haze, he saw the men take him into the ambulance. He saw them unload me from it. He saw them take his very body apart, disconnect his veins and arteries. No blood spilled from him. He saw them desperately try to save him. In his madness, he shouted randomly, his dialect ignored for having no purpose. This time, he could not be saved. This time, he would not return to his bed.
A teenage girl watched the computer screen turn black. She had done everything she could to save the computer, but this was useless. She pounded it, tried to bring it back to life, but failed. She beckoned to her father, who tried the same primitive methods. They were not successful. They decided to get rid of the computer; it had caused them too much trouble. Little id they know, they had permanently ended the life of the man who had been performing all of their menial tasks on the computer, they had destroyed the electric man.
What do you think? I wrote it up today.
People live their normal lives. They are born, they work random jobs wherever they are needed, and sometimes get sick. When that happens, they faint suddenly and wake up much later, not remembering anything. WHat is the truth behind these strange mysteries? Is there a sinister force manipulating their very lives? You'll have to read to find out....
What do you think? And if i get postive response i will try to get this written..it'll be short though.
Im not getting any response..so here it is anyway.
The sun shone through the window, its brightness bringing him to full consciousness. He jumped of bed, and, like an unseen hand guided him, he performed his daily routine of getting ready. It was all second nature to him now; he had been working for so long. He lived alone; no one greeted him in the morning. No one welcomed him home at night. He ate a small meal for breakfast, and then began to walk to one of his jobs. He had many of these, many menial tasks to support himself. Today, he started out at an office, and he began to type something.
When he left the typewriter, he had just created a business letter of some kind. He didn’t pay attention to its contents, just scanned over it to see the mistakes. There were a few, so he corrected them, but after that it was ready. He carried it to the post office and mailed it. He knew that it would be immediately sent to the address. He was done with this job today. Now, what must he do next? He was guided to the nearby video store. It was right next to the library. He took a short movie from them, and watched it on his home television. It was a scene of perfect serenity, the ocean waves rolling in and out, gently lapping at someone’s feet, and then…
Instantly a figure popped up and screamed at you. He felt no surprise, no emotions at all. He the returned the clip to the store and began another task. This time, he headed to the library. The library’s dimensions were incredible, and its confines held information about every subject imaginable. Its information stores grew by the thousands everyday. He found an interest today in. He wasn’t sure why, it was just instinctive. It was as if he had never had an interest for anything else. He learned that, “A particle accelerator is a device that uses electric fields to propel electrically charged particles to high speeds and magnetic fields to contain them. There are two basic types: linear (i.e., straight-line) accelerators and circular accelerators.”
He was no longer interested in this subject, yet he was still at the library. He was looking for a place to discuss things. He needed to voice his opinion, see how others felt. He searched for this, and found, in the very back, hundreds of glass boxes, each containing large and small amounts of people, from just 1 to over 300. They were all shouting at each other, some agreeing, and some contradicting. Each box was labeled a different subject, and many had creative names. He went over to one box. It said, “Natural Discussion.” He opened the door, and, like a wave of sound, voices briefly drenched the whole library.
He stayed in the box for a long time. After he had nothing left to say, he went out of the box. Most of the other people had gone as well. He left the library too, and began to feel very tired. Everything began to disappear. The library was gone. The video store was gone. The office was gone. He was back at his house, in his bed, his eyes slowly closing. After a few seconds in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he finally fell asleep. He dreamed nothing. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. It was as if he had died. But he knew that death was not taking him yet. This happened nearly every night.
He woke up later, much later, but felt his purpose was changed. His very reason for living was different. He walked through the same town, but instead of working, he went to a clothing store. A female one, though. He looked at countless articles, one after another, aimlessly sifting through the multitudes of items, without actually intending to buy one. He was doing this for many hours. Finally, he left, and then went to a large facility that looked like a warehouse. There was a teller at the front, and you had to give your name and password to him. He did this, and came into a large warehouse, thousands of people filling the room with their senseless rambling. Some of them were dressed in yellow shirts, some in red, some in blue, and others in many different colors. Each color group was separated by a partition. I went to the green group and began to talk with them, with words fed to me. I was just a medium, through which an unknown voice conversed. All of the rest were like me.
He was tired of this, and left. Most of the other people in the room had as well. He went outside again, and was direct to the music store. He had no idea why, he was not in control of his interests, nor his motions. He was led to a CD that I did not know. Regardless, he picked it up, and brought it to the clerk. He asked to purchase it. He handed it to him, and the clerk froze for a few seconds, and then put the CD through a slit in the counter, and gave it to him. It was now his, though he did not listen to it. He had no idea why had even purchased it.
After departing from the music store, he walked down the sidewalk. He watched an ambulance drive down the street, siren’s blazing. Someone was sick. Surely the health department would visit their homes soon, for disease was very contagious in this city. They would try and find the cause, and eliminate before it spread. Immediately following the ambulance, a squad car came flying down the street, its sirens blazing as well, headed the other way. There must have been theft or vandalism somewhere. They had to find who had done that, and it would be a long, tedious process. The thief could be anywhere now.
After this long day, he felt tired, very tired. It was not time yet, he thought. He couldn’t be asleep now. It was not time. Why was he tired? He could not find out why. His eyes slowly closed, yet no bed materialized around him. He fell down, not aware as of then the horrible truth of his sudden sleepiness. He was sick. Sick like the man in the ambulance. That man, or woman, he had no idea their fate. He would soon know.
It felt like years later when had lifted from his slumber. It was not though. The doctors had been working on him for many days. The doctors told him he had been delirious, shouting out random words, waking up and falling asleep at random intervals, shouting out lists of all he had done in the past few days. It had taken great skill, but he had finally been healed. He would have to stay in bed rest for a while and would need constant checkups, but he would be all right.
He left the hospital today, and, once he got home, fell asleep immediately. He saw nothing during his dreams. He felt nothing, saw nor heard nothing. He carried this rest on for several days, making visits to the hospital every once in a while. They gave him new blood, replacing most of the old, to keep him fresh. He remembered nothing from the days before, memory of those events had been erased. After continuing several more days like this, he emerged from this rest and carried on normal activities. Most of them were repetitive cycles of visiting the library, the music store, the typewriter office, the post office, and the warehouse.
Occasionally, he would go to the post office not to send mail, but to read it. He received a lot of mail, but most of it he ignored; he disposed of it with a spasm, not even performing it with the help of his mind. Whatever he didn’t ignore he stuffed in a bag he carried to post office. He did not read any of the mail. He felt like his eyes were being looked through by someone else. They read the mail. They threw it away, not he.
After visiting the post office, he walked to the park. Sitting there at a table was a set of cards, and another man. He played solitaire against the man. It was not entertaining, yet I could carry on with this for hours. Suddenly, my game ended. The man disappeared. My room appeared around me, and I slept. When I woke up, I continued typical routine for many, many days. It was not monotonous, it was not delightful, it just was. He felt no emotion pertaining to his routine, and that is how it should be. He carried on with this for a long time, until he got sick again.
This time, he was in the library when it happened. He opened a book on the subject “wallpaper” and immediately a large piece of cardboard popped up from its pages. It launched a cloud of dust at him. He coughed once, and then fell on the ground. Surely they had to come for him, to bring him to the hospital. In his viral-induced haze, he saw the men take him into the ambulance. He saw them unload me from it. He saw them take his very body apart, disconnect his veins and arteries. No blood spilled from him. He saw them desperately try to save him. In his madness, he shouted randomly, his dialect ignored for having no purpose. This time, he could not be saved. This time, he would not return to his bed.
A teenage girl watched the computer screen turn black. She had done everything she could to save the computer, but this was useless. She pounded it, tried to bring it back to life, but failed. She beckoned to her father, who tried the same primitive methods. They were not successful. They decided to get rid of the computer; it had caused them too much trouble. Little id they know, they had permanently ended the life of the man who had been performing all of their menial tasks on the computer, they had destroyed the electric man.
What do you think? I wrote it up today.