Today Mercedes learned that the future is now. She and fellow model friend, Anna visit a new interactive installation where, as participants walk each floor, an ear-mounted brain controlled interface (BCI) stimulates the discomforts that long term smoking have on the body.
The simulations triggered Mercedes’s memory of her setting a school ablaze after tossing a cigarette instead of putting it out. 2 died. Her memory activated a certain pattern in the BCI which was then detected by a main computer. Instantly, Mercedes receives a text message saying, “Got you.”
Spooked, she looked around, preoccupied by the cryptic text.
Being connected to a brain machine device while remembering past actions was the perfect trap for a wanted criminal. Who needs confessions when you have thought detectors?
Words are the source of misunderstandings.
She briefly escaped the bridal shower festivities; the private
restroom became her retreat. Gazing into the mirror, she
noticed behind her sat an old dictionary with six keys placed
atop the open pages. Above the dictionary, tiny writings on
the wall read:
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“Pick correctly, and you’ll choose memories.”
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Intrigued, she chose the key near the word Kinematics
because it reminded her of the custom body scanning she
underwent yesterday for her 4D printed wedding dress. She
unlocked the door and stepped outside, amazed to see her
childhood garden and first love.
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“Are memories the key to the future, or the past?”
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Married now, she never trusts memories.
A nice girl played my heart like a harp from hell.
Friendship is what she preferred: trust, someone to share secrets and fears, to support each other when in need, enjoy fun times with. To most people, a close friend is an awesome thing - a chosen family member if you will. Treat a woman as a real person instead of an obstacle course that leads to regular sex? Nah. The levitation of this situation is more my speed.
How was I to know my willingness to fake friendship in hopes of finding the back door to her front door wouldn't work?
"I don't want to be just friends," is what I could have had the courage to say. But that would require actual honest and integrity. Plus, it sounds too damn harsh. Turns out silence is the sharper sword.
I'm a nice guy - a cleverly executed deception.
I can't
escape them, my thoughts.
Processed Foods, a Sonnet
Sugar is sweet but aspartame is sweeter.
Yellow #6 giveth my juice a beautiful neon glow.
Magically thee mask'd the fish smell in my instant Pad Thai. Thou a real one.
Bleach disinfects food too? How nice!
Thy preservative doesn't forsake me as this six month old cupcake touches mine own lips.
Thou dost giveth me pleasure, fruits simply cannot compare.
For we, which soon behold these future days,
Must beguile the world, and end this fresh food craze.
I rush home after work to wind down and contemplate my next vacation. While sipping chamomile tea, a quote floats in my mind:
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The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
Tomorrow, I'd use my eyes as a camera lens to view my everyday world. Highlights and shadows casting off the park staircase created an illuminating scene for a proposal, or an equally dark setting for a breakup. I widened the landscape of 5th Avenue to notice several people resting in the shadows of building facades, seemingly longing for human interaction. Zooming in on the way hanging window crystals reflected sunlight into hundreds of dancing iridescent designs, I was reminded of something beautiful reflecting itself on others.
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
A long time ago, we learned that a person’s subconscious is actually what determines their reality. Our subconscious mind is a secret galaxy where the constellation of our memories live.
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In our hair braiding culture, my sisters share their experiences – in great detail – of past joys, pains, bad decisions, good decisions, and excitements while popular music spins in the background.
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Now whenever I hear those songs, my subconscious thoughts automatically become servants of the galaxy that make my behavior fit a pattern consistent with the constellation of emotionalized thoughts, hopes, and desires I felt while my sisters told their stories.
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We aim for perfection from continual growth & learning.
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Why?
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Because 99 isn’t 100.
Last night during Homecoming, I met a brother & sister. I think they got me high on peyote. When I ate a piece of grapefruit, it was more delicious than usual. I didn't eat it properly & mechanically, but sucked, chewed & played with it in a way that, on the streets of common civilians, would have gotten me into trouble. My vision became almost microscopic as I saw the life of the fruit more clearly, and experienced synesthesia – able to hear the colors. I looked up from inspecting the grapefruit & saw a kid bouncing melting basketballs on the court.
I touched my new friend’s hand and felt thousands of sensory receptors travel from my left hand to my right foot.
I became fast friends with the two until I realized that they’d been lying to me the whole time. They were pretending to be siblings as a means of building up sexual tension to spice up their romance life.
Fun for them, afterglow for me.