Incomparable Animal

Jan 08 2014

John will casually admire the long approach of eternity on the infinite beach through the window wall. It will be one of many such beaches in the future he will inhabit, where virtual worlds will have been seamlessly integrated with reality, only this will be his own private beach. Whether any other, less pleasant reality might simultaneously exist in that time is outside of the scope of what will remain important to John, when he can open a door in the wall and stroll out onto that beach, and when he will be able to do it for ever and ever. And when the beach will be his own personal beach for always, with raindrops that he will have expected, and sunsets of his own artistry, that he will casually adore.

Right then it will be a beautiful morning on that beach, and John will be treading his Exercycle Unlimita with all of the incomparable beauty of his flawless endurance. He will be thrilling with the blissful sensations of his animal youth. And these things will be exactly what he will be reflecting on. I am an incomparably beautiful young animal, he will say to himself. When he clicks a remote, the windows will go black, and he will admire his reflection briefly in the glass before Creataloop Newsfeeds appears before him.

As he treads and reads, his feet strapped securely into the pedals, a gentle perspiration will spring from his brow. He will notice this due to the inconvenience required to wipe it away. This is not his leisurely but beneficial aerobic pace, he will think; this means that his body components are overheating. He will look at the console on the Exercycle, which will read the same pace that he always sets it to. He will wonder whether there is a manufacturer problem with his new circuitry, a possibility which he will vacillate on but finally will reject, partly due to all of his parts right down to the cellular level having been engineered to his own specifications by Ultrahuman Inc., the leading provider of cyborg technologies.

But the main reason for his rejection of this possibility will be that the speed of the Exercycle will have increased even further. Although the perfidious console will continue to display the same leisurely but beneficial digits, the real change in speed will be experienced in the increased respiration of John’s cybernetic organs. However, John will refuse to submit to such an inferior machine as the Exercycle Unlimita. He is the ideal machine, refined by evolution and perfected by genius, he will think – the genius of others, but most importantly his own. He is not to be beaten by this slave machine, this thing that is an abomination next to him, a mechanism without a consciousness. John will experience a little relief at this point. He will know that finally his awesome capacities may meet a challenge worthy of them.

John will switch off the Creataloop and return to gazing out over his beach. Sunrise will be over by now and the sun will have risen into the sky. The sky will have long trails of cottony clouds here and there closer to the beach but further out to sea behind them in the distance the blue will be unbroken. The sun will seem large and it will seem to possess a realism of ferocity in its brightness that will pierce John’s retinas like hot knives. He will gasp a little for air and feel as though this his favourite room in his beautiful home with its sandy coloured plush carpet is in fact a desert and everything beautiful in his life is a mirage. He will stab his fingers at the console of the Exercycle but it will not stop cycling and he will command his home systems to cut the power to it but they will be powerless to help. The wheels of the Exercycle will be spinning faster and faster, and he will be working his legs harder than ever to keep up, but John will reassure himself that his body is built for any endurance according to its proposed range of movements and within the limits of his concentration. He will feel a little pang of panic when he realises that there is no longer any way that he can disengage himself from the machine, and he will wonder how long it will be before anyone will find him. He will question the ability of his circuits to cool themselves without the replenishment of fluids for perspiration.

As he begins to wonder what he might do next, the spinning spokes will purr “Remember me?” John will not know what he is hearing, but it will be there, whirring and purring. “Remember me?” it will ask again. And John will lose his concentration. His muscular tension will falter and his body will be at the mercy of the simple mechanics of the bike, every piece of equipment in his legs snapping in a hundred different ways under the pressure and turning to jelly under him, and he will know he is defeated. And the Exercycle will explode in a tremendous burst of energy that will melt them together, and they will have to be thrown in the trash, where they will finally achieve freedom from his arrogance. He’s doomed.

One response so far

  1. this kinda sucks, but if i dont produce an idea it goes septic in my mind, and i might as well keep it as part of a record of how my writing has developed over time. and to remind me that yes, im ugly.

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