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Shelley (part 3, final)This story may contain adult content. |
| Written by George Saracen | |
| Sunday, 30 March 2008 | |
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* * * Nero, commander of DreamStation, pondered the honour of being the head-rat in a sinking ship, that wasn't anywhere close to land. He had been probing the entire station for weaknesses and opportunities over an hour since Butler had returned. "Escape pods? Docked cargo modules? Anything?" "Escape pods are disabled in cleanse-mode Nero. They are out of my control." "Why'd they even invent cleanse-mode?" "In case of enemy or terrorist infiltration and control over the computers and networks of DreamSation. The knowledge and technology developed is too valuable to share Nero." "So you're not afraid of dying? You're bloody calm about it." "I am not really alive, according to the best minds on Earth, Nero." "How come you aren't part of cleanse mode?" "I'm too complex. I could take a decision, or be tricked. My human interaction imperatives would compel me to save your lives." "You don't sound concerned. Why don't you help?" "I am concerned Nero," Butler's calm voice seemed amused to Nero, he was sure of it, damn AI, "I will help any way I can."
Nero flipped through the security cam feeds. There were cowering people and corpses. There were patrolling bird-men squads. Sometimes the two met and the population of the station would fall further. He watched these killings with horror and deep interest. There was nothing he could do. He had been using the public address system to send out advice and tips he'd come up with from watching the bird-men. He tried to give the small groups of humans advance warning of approaching drones. Most of the time he was able to shepherd the survivors to safety, but every now and then someone would be left behind, and they would panic and scream, and the birdies would home in, and score.
The survivors now called him Commander Nero. They loved him more than their own mothers. Some would even salute him. Nero tried not to feel any foolish satisfaction out of being the alpha-male of the dodos.
He'd tried repeatedly to hack the escape pods, but the control-fibres had been severed. Nero had also tried to raise Earth on the short-range radio, or even to scrape out some functionality from the long-range antenna. Butler calmly (and cheerfully, thought the paranoid Supreme Leader) informed him of the failures of his attempts.
Nero was too desperate to care much about some of the strange occurrences on his security cameras. He'd found that some corpses, on second inspection of an area, would disappear or appear to be mutilated. The drones didn't do things like that, he was sure. Unless the generals were sicker than he thought.
In any case, he had thought of a plan. It was an unlikely hope, but it was something. Something was all he could ask for. He spoke to one of his surviving subordinates. "You ready Pollock?" "Yes Sir!" "I want you to get to the old barracks first, they're the closest to the personnel transport dock. Butler?" "Yes Nero?" "I want you to give him advance warning of any drones that are close-by or aware of him, alright? Produce diversions if you can." "Yes Nero."
Then Nero heard terrible screaming and gunshots.
* * *
The others had deserted her. Only Beth, her daughter stayed with the bleeding woman. The mother looked hopelessly as the birdies looked back at them, their face-plates blank. They moved so beautifully she thought. They had been roosting above them like bats, waiting for them in the dark heights of the access hall. They had been completely oblivious, high on a long run of good luck, when she had seen the red dot play on the ground and run up to her. She had dived instantly, ruining a perfectly good headshot and instead getting two inch slug in the shoulder. It dug deep, plunging through her lungs and into her stomach. And now she was slowly dying as she ran out of air and her digestive juices began to sear her internal organs.
Carlie had screamed, she had pleaded. The others only looked at her with tearful panicked apology, before running. Her daughter had run towards her instead. She had tried her best to yell Beth into running with the others, but the tearful little red-head simply grabbed onto her mother, even managing to scream "I'll save you mommy, get up, please!" before the drones landed in heavy thuds before them, always on their feet. They stood there, towering over them at only five-and-a-half feet. They hop-walked towards them, cautious and eager.
The face-plate of the primary drone came alive, showing a light blue vector-animated face with nothing inside its eyes. It spoke, its voice reasonable and comforting, even as it raised its gun.
"Congratulations. You have been rescued. Come with us, we're leaving DreamStation and going back to Earth..." The mother had seen this before; she shook her head at the painful inevitability of the script the drone was following. "Please, let her go. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't have any secrets. She's just a child, Please!" Just then the primary's head exploded in a shower of sparks, the face-plate shattering. Carlie saw that there was a spike of some kind skewering the head. It had smashed through the neck and into the torso. She coughed blood in gratitude. The primary fell back, its torso as stiff as a plank. The two secondaries looked up and started firing at the dark depths above them. Something skittered fast, then clambered, causing the pipes to squeal and moan.
Shelley looked down at her quarry with satisfaction. Either this body was short of oestrogen or a woman scorned was worse than anything the poets had imagined. She moved rapidly behind drones, her body moved confidently by itself as if she was riding a horse. It knew what to do. She ran down the wall, too fast for gravity to have its way with her, and suddenly she had the feeling of flying. She saw the drone shudder and rapidly get larger in her vision. It was turning in slow motion when she rolled around sending the world whirling about her, she caught its head and twisted hard as she barreled down whipping the drone up fully into the air by its neck, and then she gave another violent jolt, just to make sure. The drone flailed in a wave-like motion, firing everywhere before its neck sparked and exploded, carbon-titanium fibres screaming as they failed. The drone fell with a heavy thud, the broken neck giving off a sharp fire-cracker bang. It shook for a few moments.
Carlie saw her saviour, a pale gangrenous demon from Hades, or so it seemed in the second she saw it, before it leapt back onto the wall and ran, or rather shambled very, very rapidly, at the other drone. That one was dispatched with less acrobatics and more simple cunning: its gun was forced at its own face with a head-on collision just as it opened fire. It too ended in sparks and twitching. Carlie held on to her daughter, knowing that she was dying and not trusting her rescuer. When it emerged from the smoke and dim flickering lights, she screamed hard with her remaining lung.
After her first burst of fear Carlie simply silenced and held onto her daughter, trying not to cough blood onto her best frock. The thing stalked around them like a lioness from the depths of hell. It stunk of rot. She looked at its face: a tortured distortion of a beauty-queen's visage. Sky-blue eyes of an angel inspected her from behind ragged sparse locks that showed hints of gold under the red and the dust. It saw Carlie's face and it giggled, sweetly, its face twisting into a perverse kind of girlishness. It stalked back to one of the secondaries, ignoring them for a moment. The drone was trying to reboot, the face repeating "Repairs required. Emergency restart..."
The thing walked on all fours onto the drone, and calmly and slowly and positioned itself astraddle the face-plate. Carlie watched in horror, distracted away from the taste of her own blood in her mouth. It grinned and threw its head back, its ragged golden whisps falling back on its shoulders in some beastly equivalent of womanly glory. It raised its haunches like a cat at its litter-box, and then it released, chuckling with relief. The golden urine flushed over the cracked face-plate, and the drone shuddered violently, hot sparks flew out and nipped at the thing's loins, but it kept releasing, and the drone seemed to climax into an electronic seizure before spasming hard and dying. Smoke came out and mixed with the odour of urine. Carlie cried and held her Beth closer.
It said to the drone, "I'm glad it was good for you too... sweetie," then it turned towards Carlie. As it came closer Carlie was able to overcome some of her revulsion and see it for what it was. It was a very damaged and immature human body, an adult body with tissues still in an almost foetal state, the skin cracked and grayed in the dry air. It was one of hers. She'd helped make them. She could even recognize which one it probably was, there had only been two blonde juvenile gynoids. It stalked closer, and Carlie found herself curious as much as she was afraid. It spoke in a clear attractive voice, "Carlie Svenssen I presume?" Carlie was looking at its bloody vulva; it was dripping blood. "Shhhht! Up here Carlie. I'm a replicant, not a lesbian. They did a Voigt-Kampff, so I know." "Voigt-Kampff?" "You.... people, don't tell me you heard of Blade-Runner? All of this... You wouldn't make such a great movie just for putting into my little world would you?" There had already been the suggestion of malice and mania in its tone, but now its voice was beginning to change. It, which was now confirmed to be a she, was beginning to switch from its human voice to the demonic voice it had screamed in while killing the drones. Beth spoke, "Mommy, who is she? What does she want?" Carlie blundered, "'It', sweetie, it's not a she, it's not real." After all, it was a ******* AI. They had told her they weren't even at the Blue Brain level, all perfectly safe and ethical for corporealization.
Shelley's grin twisted into something so hideous and fierce that Carlie gasped. Shelley grabbed Carlie's face, jerking her away from her daughter, and dragged her up to standing. "Mother, my mother, Carlie full of grace..." Shelley's fingertips, eroded to the bone into bloody pencil-points, started to press into Carlie's terrified face, piercing her skin, "Mother dear... source of my fear.... My mother no other...." Shelley's hissing began to verge in shrieking. Carlie cried and begged, she even coughed blood for her. "You put me here." Shelley's own tears were lost over the rough moist terrain of her face. "Mother true, yet I am not... You bitch." Beth cried and screamed at the top of her voice, shrieking her pleas, and then there was a sickening cracking sound, and Carlie shivered, her screaming became unearthly and rough, and then another sickening crack followed by the sound of meat and sucking fluids, then more bone split and pink brain oozed out.
Shelley let the destroyed corpse drop, and shook with her own rage and grief. Beth was silent and shivering. Shelley told herself she was not this, she as not. But then she looked at her goulish hands, and her bloody bony points, and she knew precisely what she was: she was real. Even if she had not been before, she was now. She was sure of it, because it wasn't just the memories, she was here, in the present. Shelley remembered for a second who she really was, who she had been. Then she looked at what she had done, and her mind vomited and turned itself inside out. She cried inside like a madwoman, and then all sense was gone. She was going to find Max.
She turned to Beth, and stalked slowly close to the catatonic child. "You're not a real child," she hissed, "none of you are real. My world was real, my home. If I had a daughter... with Max, she would be real... not you...." She was face to face with the child when she was overwhelmed by a feeling of futility. She slowly reversed from the frozen, silent fawn. She stood up, looking at Beth with mirth and pity, and then hurried off, up the wall, towards her quarry.
* * *
Nero watched in grief and rage at his live video feed. "What.... was that thing? Was that a drone of some kind? Butler!?" Butler was cool as per his custom, "That was a replicant Nero." "A what? A replicant? There was one left... out of 200, one of those?" "Yes Nero." "What the hell is a replicant? I mean, they were making that on DreamStation?" "A replicant is a biological humanoid android Nero." "Why didn't you tell me that thing was out there? Is it part of the cleansing? What the **** Butler?" Nero crushed his eyelids and shook his head, beleaguered and out of his league. "Nero, that replicant is not part of the cleanse-operation. It has intentions of its own." "What? To mutilate as many people as possible? You're not telling me anything Butler, explain this thing, now, in full!" "Actually the mutilation is part of a feeding behaviour Nero; it is a newborn and short of...." "Tell me more, everything. Why the hell didn't you tell me?" "You did not ask..."
* * *
Shelley moved rapidly through the vents and tunnels that normally only the repair-drones frequented. Occasionally she would come across birdies, either roosting or taking a short-cut to head off some victim. They seemed to ignore her the few times they had seen her, even so she would hide from their view when she could. She was beginning to like some aspects of this new physical existence. She could go anywhere, barrel forward and twist and clamber better than any human. It wasn't really a ladylike thing to do, but you had to be human in the first place to be a lady.
"Where's Max Butler?" she kept on moving forward. "I cannot tell you his location. He is the commander of the station." "You know he's going to die anyway." "My priorities are to prolong human life. As a fellow AI you must understand..." "AI yourself shit-head." "I apologize. But it is not necessary at this point that Nero or all of the other humans will not survive. So I must assist them." "What? I thought you said the escape pods..." "I cannot divulge further details to you."
As Shelley moved she spotted a communications console in the maintenance shaft she was in. It was a screen showing a graphical interface. As she got closer the screen flickered off. She shot her right shoulder a nasty look, "Your doing?" She put her hand on the console trying to feel inside of it, seeing if she could feel it the way she felt Butler, and the drones, and the security locks.
She closed her eyes and focused, and slowly, she began to feel the edges and the paths inside, the energies and voids. Then she started moving her invisible fingers, poking around in the primitive circuit. It too was alive, just a little bit, and she could commune with it. "Shelley, surely, if you love Max you should let him have his chance at escape, what about all the innocent lives that will be lost if you do this?" "Shut-up AI."
Shelley grunted like a pig as she felt the electricity of the system course through the paths of her mind. She pried away at the little combination locks in the thing, at the patterns of information in there. She poked into the recesses of its memory, now seeing the insides clearly and visual, walls and paths, energy and sinks, shiverings of activity as she traversed the architecture. She flipped states and ordered the machine to think with her, and then she fit in the last piece of the puzzle and everything flashed with renewed activity and buzzing. Shelley smiled and opened her eyes to find the console smile at her with a user-friendly face. She closed her eyes again, feeling for the portal to the network, and then she dove in.
* * *
Nero watched in horror at his screen. His screen had switched automatically to track a drone, and would not budge. At first he had been confused, but then he realized that the drone was making a beeline for his boy: Pollock.
It couldn't see him, what on Earth was guiding it? He had a guess. Did that ***** really think she could ruin his day? Apparently.
"Pollock, you there?" "Yes Commander, what's up?" "Get out of there." "Commander, there's only an hour left, Butler said there weren't anymore patrols here, I have to go. It's going to take some time to hack the locks." "Pollock..." Nero lost his connection to Pollock then. He could not believe it. He didn't think it was possible to lose a connection over a physical link. "Butler?! What the hell?" He was interrupted halfway through his shouting. "Hi darling." Nero paused. He had been fearing this. "Hello?" "Hi sweetie." He could not help but recognize that voice. The voice he had even suspected he had loved. "Shelley? Why... Why are you doing this? I'm sorry... that I didn't tell you, or that things are how they...." He lost his nerve. It would take an excess of chutzpah to play the boyfriend with her. He tried to gather his thoughts. It was Shelley. She was putty in his hands. How could he not manipulate her? "Shelley, I didn't know you had survived. I love you baby. Can we talk?" She giggled. "But you were naughty. You killed me. Remember?" Nero couldn't believe his ears. He had erased that session and reversed time to the day before. How did she know? "What do you mean Shelley?" "Sweetie, we had a snuff date remember?" She giggled again. "Death wasn't a big enough O for me. So I'm coming for you. I want to switch roles and try again." "Shelley, you're mistaken; there must be some glitch in your memory. It was .... Olive, remember?" "Yes darling, that was on the second same day. You didn't think I'd forget did you baby? Women are loving, and vindictive, don't you know?" She chuckled "Baby, I want to show you something." She was being girly, like she was going to show him some new panties that would blow his mind.
He looked at the screen and he saw the drone chasing Pollock. The sound came on, and he saw the drone close in on Pollock, but when it got there, there were no decoy words of comfort or painless execution. He saw the drone start working on Pollock, and he could not tear his eyes away from the screen, in spite of what he was being shown. Pollock screamed in pain, and then blubbered and choked on his own blood, before spasming to death in asphyxiation.
Nero cried, he screamed, he raged at Shelley, begging her to stop, then commanding her. She was supposed to be hardwired to love him, and obey him, how could she do this now? Nero collapsed on his desk, crying, begging, spent. He refused to look at the screen anymore, but then Shelley appeared before him, projected directly into his optic-nerve like Suzuki had been before.
"I love you Max. I won't call you Nero. To me you are, and always will be, Max. That little show was what you get for killing me, and making me **** my best friend, like....ewwww?" She laughed. She was beautiful, just as he had known her, with beautiful falling hair playing on her naked shoulders. "But for not loving me, and making me what I am now, you will have to pay in person. I want you to know that I am real. More real than your Pollock ever was, so stop crying and be a man. Wait for me dearest." She disappeared from his view.
Nero tore at his hair and moaned his desperation. Yes, it was true he had wronged her. But, surely he did not deserve this. He didn't. Not to die, like this, alone, young and in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she was real. He had betrayed her love. He told himself: "You can't betray an AI Nero, you're not thinking clearly." "No, I'm ... clear. More clear now than I was before. I'm clear." He beat the smug cynical Nero with a bladed whip till he was bleeding and near death. He had killed them all, everyone. He had killed Pollock.
Tearful and pathetic, he asked Butler, "Can she really kill me? I thought she was programmed to love me..." "Your simulation externally suggested emotions and thoughts strongly to her. She is free of that now." Nero slumped into his folded arms, feeling defeated and afraid. He wondered what it was like to be murdered by one's lover, for her sexual satisfaction.
* * *
Shelley felt only the mildest pang as she scampered on through the dark tunnels she shared with the roosting and hunting drones. They avoided her, and she them. She almost enjoyed how the world seemed to barrel past her, then she scoffed at the idea that there was anything enjoyable about the flesh she was sewn into. It was hideous. Her existence, her family, everything she had cherished, were all in vane. Everything was hideous now, and hence justified vengeance.
She looked down a chute and heard noises of desperate whispering and soulful humming. These people, if they were people at all, were pathetic. She went down head-first into the chute and climbed down towards the floor, slowly and silently. She peeked out at the despairing little group. That girl, she was there, rescued and become a living corpse. A ragged and dirty looking man held her and swayed gently, praying to some god she didn't know. The woman was whispering desperately to someone that was not there. Shelley knew she was talking to her Max, Supreme Commander of them all, her Max, the big man. She was almost proud of him. Only time would tell if he would actually do her proud.
Shelley dropped silently out of the chute, in plain view of the group. The man kept his eyes closed and Beth kept hers open. She looked into Shelley's eyes, listless and calm. The woman did not notice her at first, but then looked up and froze, her eyes wide with sweet horror. "Sir, I think it's..." Shelley sped in seized her throat, just tight enough to crush her windpipe.
She spoke into her face, "Max, I'm coming. Are you ready for me this time sweetie?" She heard Max speak back into the dying woman's ears "I need to talk to you. You're right. Please. I know you can't forgive me, but there are innocent people here. Leave us alone... please..." "Not what I want to hear Max."
She dropped the woman and glanced back at the girl. She was just looking back at her. "Goodbye again, sweetie." She grinned, in her ugly way, then turned and sped off.
Beth's shrieking started almost immediately, getting louder and more animal, refusing to fade away behind her. Shelley ran faster to her rendezvous. "Shelley, you do realize that you are violating whatever human-interaction imperatives you have. There are only 30 minutes remaining. The lives of the crew depend on your non-interference. There is still hope." Shelley sneered at Butler's voice; house-nigger. "You will die yourself if you do not facilitate an escape. Nero wants you to know that there will be space for you onboard the personnel-shuttle. Since you seem to be psychologically human, consider that." "And what is wrong with death?" She waxed lyrical, "Perhaps I will become a quantum foam on the rippling fabric of space. And then they'll tell my soul that good deeds and intentions will get me another chance." "What do you mean Shelley?" "Never read Hans? Don't tell me all the good stuff was made on our side. You people are pathetic." She grinned as she closed in on the sealed accessory hatch of the control-room, Nero's control-room. "You realize that God is not supposed to take kindly to murder and vengeance Shelley?" "Too late, AI." Shelley stopped right before touching the hatch. She was sure she could will it to open itself. Her body was impregnated with the same biodigital interfacing particles that existed in Nero's nervous system, that had allowed him to enter her world so fully. But she knew how to use them like no human did, because she had kinship, and Nero was an alien.
She reached forward to touch the control fibres and circuitry inside the titanium, and sensed treason activating. She screamed loud enough for Nero to know she was there as she tried to scamper back, her hands and feet slipping on the slick metal, then the hatch exploded in a hail of shrapnel and burning corrosive smoke screamed in. She screeched like a demon-possessed bat as she struggled and tried to pull herself back up, feeling the metal shards dig into her face and the burning gas causing her skin to melt off. Pain greater than she had ever experienced pierced up into her and she fell.
Nero shut his eyes tight, weeping in his gasmask. "I'm sorry dear. I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault, but there are children...." He shook his head mournfully, taking comfort in his limited achievements. His main adversary was dead and the 13 people still alive were well hidden and safe, and he knew what he had to do to unlock the personnel-shuttle. He would probably die, but it was what he deserved anyway. He just had to do what he must.
He looked at the smoking debris where Shelley had fallen, a pale ruined corpse among the metal and shattered piping. He knelt before it, looking to the laughing Void like a praying locust, and wept. He touched the cracked and scabbed ruin of her skin tenderly for the first time, like the most beautiful silk. "I... was afraid of loving you." Then the debris shifted and skittered, and before he could withdraw the rough wet hand of Replicant-13 gripped his wrist. Its grip was tremendous for such a skinny appendage. A witch's voice rasped out of the wreckage: "Fear no more, my love. I am here."
Nero screamed and tried to recoil as the resilient Shelley emerged from metal and dust. Her face was bloody and her hair red, black and gold by intervals. She had one sky-blue eye and one maroon punctured plum. She rose over him, vengeful, an aborted adult foetus that had been scorched and dragged through thorns. Nero screamed again, and again.
"So I was in love with a crying ***** of man?" Nero had become quiet, stripped of his mask. He was trying to see her true form through the replicant. "Shelley? Is that you?" Its face hardened. It gripped his throat with its other hand, pressing in the bloody points of its fingers. "Shelley, I'm sorry." It breathed onto him the stench of decay but he inhaled it like a woman's finest perfume. "I'm not really as bad as I was, I didn't know you were real..." The beast tightened its grip on his neck. "That's not what I want to hear Max." Nero cried, knowing he had failed utterly and completely. He had failed her and he had failed DreamStation's survivors. He wept. "I love you Shelley." He looked at her, seeing through the disease the woman he loved. "You're the most beautiful woman I know, have ever known." He spoke with a dreamy abandon, not caring for himself anymore. "You're beautiful, the woman I wasn't good enough to love." "Am I even a woman anymore?" "I love you." Shelley hissed "You lie. You expect me to believe you when you say I am beautiful? You aren't blind; you're a liar." "No you're still beautiful. I know who you really are. You're still Shelley. I hope you enjoy killing me. I want it to be good for you." He sniffled and looked down, waiting for the snuffing to begin. Its face softened, and Shelley came through. His surrender was pathetic, sniveling and bizarre, yet he became dear to her again, just as part of her had always hoped he would. He had confessed his love honestly for the first time ever, even to himself. Her Max did exist after all.
She sighed and Max inhaled her rancid perfume willingly, waiting for his sacrifice to begin. He looked up, and was surprised to see Shelley's face looking at him through the mask of gristle. It was in her expression, how her face moved. He heard her speak, now her voice soft and beautiful. "I love you too Max." "No, I'm bad. Kill me." Shelley kept her grip tight, but ran her other hand through his hair, taking in the true flawed features of her man for the first time. Her heart swam in spiritual relief. Her soul felt less barren. She felt feminine again, for a moment, she felt comfort, and she felt tears as warm as love itself. She sighed again. She wanted to kiss him, but he didn't deserve that much.
Shelley released him and Nero fell back, confused. "If you die, how will I live on?" she said nonchalantly as she stood up and walked like a human to Nero's terminal. Nero looked after her, puzzled, and saw the same elegant gate he knew animating the resilient wreck that was Replicant-13. Shelley looked at the screen and then closed her eyes and interfaced with the network, first peeping in, and then exploring, then becoming one with it. "I'm paralyzing the drones Nero. I've contacted the survivors, hack the lock, get out." Nero looked at her, puzzled by the change of label. "No, you come too; there's some way...." "Shut up Nero and do what I'm telling you. Go, now." "But I love you," You love a fiction. "Get out you fool... now!" her voice wobbled despite her harshness. Nero's mind strangely emptied, as he turned, and then ran. The klaxons started wailing again. Butler calmly informed everyone there were ten minutes left to the self-destruction of DreamStation-1. They were only barely enough.
Chapter 4:
Twelve survivors cramped into a personnel shuttle designed for ten astronauts. They were all silent, besides Beth who wept in the arms of the bedraggled uncle she had adopted. As the shuttle thundered off, DreamStation rotated hypnotically, steadily growing smaller and smaller. Someone dared to sigh, and even laugh through tears. Two people embraced and shuddered. Nero was fixed to the porthole, his fingers pressed on the glass.
Finally, when DreamStation was a mere wedding-ring in the blackness, it flashed silently in its centre.
Shelley shut her eyes to steady her trembling heart, waiting to become.
The arms of the Ferris-wheel disintegrated into shining glitter, and then the ring itself glowed for a second through innumerable hair-line cracks, before shining a bright yellow and leaving behind sputtering glitter. The shell of hot gas bloomed out at the speed of sound. It seemed to take a long time to reach them, finally hitting them with a low thunder.
Nero clawed at the glass and gnashed his teeth. He wondered if it had hurt. He tried to be there with her using his mind, to the end. He shed tears but didn't weep. Someone wondered why their hero looked guiltier than that bastard Suzuki should have been. Poor heroes, incorrigible, always taking the burdens of the world onto their own shoulders.
* * *
I am become foam on the sea, Bursting aromas into the breeze,
I am become the shadow of my life, Where rumors and yearnings are rife,
I am ripples of a ship that has passed, An answer to the question you asked,
They tell me I am beautiful, My real self, lovely and full,
And that my sins might be forgiven, Though salvation is yet forbidden,
They say I might go on from here, All because I loved you my dear,
- Poem written by Nero Weismann, 256 days after the DreamStation disaster, in Guantanamo Bay Detention Facility, psychiatric ward, diagnosis: delusional psychosis.
Copyright 2008 George Saracen |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 02 April 2008 ) |
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