Monday, July 10, 2006

I dreamt that I was at my house, it was night, and I was outside. I was bringing water to my father in the shed. There were terrible noises coming out of the shed, it sounded like someone was frantically searching for something. I came around back to the door, it was slightly ajar and the light spilling out the cracks looked like it was trying to get as far away from the shed as possible. I heard someone grunting. I wasn't scared. I didn't have any feelings. I moved like a robot. Robots have this fluid, singleminded movement--an efficient, wasteless purpose. They move like time, nothing bothers them, nothing will stop them, and whatever they are doing will be accomplished.

I opened the door and stepped inside. There were overturned tables with bolts and wrenches and scrap metal strewn across the floor. My father was hunched over in one corner, holding something close to his chest with one hand while fanning his other hand in circles along the dirty floor, scrabbling and picking at anything that was within reach. He was grunting words. He kept repeating, where is it. And it was a statement, not a question. Dad, I brought you water from the house. Where is it. I have it right here. Where is it. Are you looking for something? Where is it. I don't know.

He straightened and stood up. His free hand went still. He turned and looked at me and mouthed the words. Where is it. I looked at what he had clenched in his hand. It was a bleeding, pulsing heart. Where is it.

Where is it. Where is it. My father was no longer moving his mouth. Where is it. The words were coming out of mine. I reached out my hand to give him the water. He grabbed my hand. It shuddered like an old engine. I dropped the glass. I looked down, there were glittering shards everywhere. My father tugged violently at my arm. I nearly fell over. That's when I noticed.

There was a gaping hole in my chest. Where is it. My father grabbed my chin, and looked me in the eyes. Where is it. His other hand was raised. There was a beating, spitting heart in it. A siren was tearing through the shed. It was coming from inside of me. Rushing out of the hole like a newly dug well. Shattering the glass pieces into sand. Blowing the hair off my fathers head. Tearing down the walls. Where is it.

I opened my eyes and screamed into an iridescent light above me. I was uncomfortable and I couldn't move my head.
"Do you feel anything?" A man wearing a white mouth mask appeared in front of my face.
"No. I heard a noise."
"Good. Congratulations." I stared at his face. Two more masked faces appeared beside and across from his.
"Aaron Aadi, you have a new arm." I didn't believe them. I couldn't move my head anyway. And I really couldn't feel anything.
"Where is it?" I shuddered.
"Have a look." The doctor took off the head strap holding me down and lifted me up.

There was what looked like a shiny, jointed rocket launcher attached to my shoulder. It was the same size as my arm, it had no hand, it ended in a nozzle. There were overlapping pieces in odd symmetry, like ancient armor covering the length of it. It all looked on the verge of flying into pieces. It looked like it was moving--it looked like it wanted to move.
"What is it?"
"Your new arm. Pretty, isn't it?"
"Not really."
"You'll get used to it. Plus you can do much, much more with it. Just wait until you see what you can do. If only I were your age." The man in the mask shook his head. His eyes were wrinkled in a smile.
"Come on, get up. We'll help to the next room. Someone will be there to take care of you and get you ready. Don't worry, its deactived right now. Just try to get used to the way it feels."
The helped me up. I didn't think I'd be able to stand with that much metal on me. It looked impossibly heavy. They let go and I didn't fall over.
"Light, isn't it? It gives a little tug, sure. But you'll get used to it. Nothing your body won't be able to compensate for. Especially with the shape you'll be in and the extensive work we've done with your kinetic neurons. Oh, of course, nevermind, I'm sure I'm only scaring you. Your helper will be able to explain it all so you can understand. Let's go, Aaron Aadi."
"I don't know who that is."
"Of course not, Aaron. Come along" The man winked at me.

3 comments:

Heartichoke said...

it's thursday now. more.

Ryan said...

There was what looked like a shiny, jointed rocket launcher attached to my shoulder.

What's a shiny jointed rocket launcher look like?

I don't know. If someone had replaced my arm with a shiny-jointed-rocket-launcher I wouldn't know it launched rockets.

Specially after coming out from under drugs.

It would be more of a base description. Before declaring it shot projectiles. is would just be jointed tubes or something.

Brother Matt said...

excellent comment. It looks like your face. Just kidding. Great comment, I appreciate it.