ENTRY 12_58 - HUMAN SUBJECT CHARLES SNIPPY - PERSONAL ID 04477645.
Bloody tentacles, hard and sharp as steel, pierced my spine and lifted me in the air... and then I died.
I opened my eyes and saw the light. I reached towards it.
My eyes focused on the scene.
My arms were oddly... naked?
There was a gray ceiling present.
"...What the? Light? Air? I am Alive?" I whispered.
"...NING CITIZEN! YOU HAVE SLEPT 4.2 HOURS!" my alarm clock boomed.
It was merely a dream. Just another lovely nightmare courtesy of the iDream composer and the Broadcasting signal pounding on my unconscious mind.
"20'000 CREDITS HAVE BEEN DEDUCTED. YOUR DREAMS WERE BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE GOOD DIRECTORATE INC."
The clock droned on.
"Thanks for that. It was wonderful to get eaten by a fleshy monster" I replied.
"I AM SORRY... CHARLES. DID YOU HAVE ANOTHER NIGHTMARE?"
My personal digital psychiatrist inquired from my alarm clock.
"Yes, mother." I grumbled, scratching my chest, still afraid that tentacles will explode out of it.
"I'M AFRAID THERE WILL BE NO REFUND.
DID YOU FORGET TO THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS BEFORE YOU WENT TO SLEEP?"
"WELL DON'T DESPAIR! TODAY YOU WILL BE CURED OF YOUR INCOMPATIBILITY WITH ANNET, CHARLES. TODAY YOU WILL THROW OFF THE SHACKLES OF YOUR MENTAL DISABILITY AND JOIN THE REST OF HUMANITY IN DIGITAL HAPPINESS AND CONTINUITY!"
The clock chimed.
"Do I have to?" I asked, readying myself for a headache.
"BUT OF COURSE!" The clock beeped "WELCOME..."
"Arghhh" I grinded my teeth. My head felt like it was about to crack open.
"NEURAL CONNECTION, TEST 304938 ... FAILED!" The alarm clock's excitement levels have gone down.
"Bwaaargh." I massaged my head, getting out of bed.
Stupid clock, always trying to connect my mind to the internet. I'd break it, but then Directorate would simply install another one and charge me for it too. After all, all unconnectables must attempt connection once a day, in case their brain pattern somehow magically changed or in case ANNET finally figured out how to dig into your head.
I know that it's not going to happen with me- my case is hopeless. The problem is something genetic and while those goons in the genetics department would love to get their machines into my brain, I prefer the lack of sleep and headaches to lobotomy.
I seen the reports on their test subjects: "total neural shut-down", "subject resists integration with the net, increasing the signal strength dramatically lead to damage to the 85% of the frontal lobe."
Call me old fashioned, but I like my brain the way it is.
I shambled to the kitchen to pour myself some Coffee.
"HOW WOULD YOU RATE YOUR DREAM?" The kitchen clock inquired.
"Terrible. That nightmare felt it lasted like a lifetime..." I answered it, spilling Coffee all over the table, barely able to keep my head upright.
In my dream, I died and it was somehow Captain's fault...
...wait. Who is this ...Captain?
I can't remember.
"THE I-DREAM COMPOSER WORKED VERY HARD TO GET INTO YOUR BRAIN, YOU KNOW." The bathroom mirror spoke.
"...Your Shtupid iDream composer went overboard again!" I mumbled to the mirror brushing my teeth.
The mirror silently displayed a massive magnification of my teeth.
"Apocalypse... aliens... monsters... Pff... What's next?" I mumbled putting my jacket on.
Once again, I was late for work.
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