The Technologies of God- A Serial Micro-Fiction 10/24

in Writing Club3 years ago (edited)

You don’t get kidnapped by an android, blasted into space (where she pumps you full of mind-altering drugs), and think that you can come back to a normal life on Earth. Still, I go through the motions. Gainful employment designing software, a place near the bay shore, and a beautiful girl to share it with. We've been living together as husband and wife for about a year. It has been a whirlwind. Trips abroad, new cars, and all the goodies money can buy. Domestic bliss and social stability. Best of all, we have our youth. Not that we're worried about getting old. We're young and healthy. From time to time, I try to talk to her about it, but she will have none of it. Why ruin a perfectly nice day by talking about something so morbid and depressing?

I can't let it go. Everything I see is tinted with the kaleidoscopic lens of my experience at the station. In a way, that's where I died. At least my sense of self did. It's as if the veil of reality was permanently lifted, the windshield wiped clean. Around me, I see the is-ness of every thing, the frozen thought-forms of my senses and cognition, the thread of illusion woven into the fabric of my existence. This is an experience, a way of seeing the world, that is impossible to convey, especially to those without direct experience of the chaotic realities swirling in our minds.

“How much longer are you going to be out here with that telescope?" She puts her arms around me as I fiddle with the lens. "Frankly, I'm beginning to get jealous of that android.”

Elena has grounded me, tethered me to the realities of Earthly life.

“It’s been cloudy all week," I say defensively, "so...”

"So... you thought it would be a good idea to ditch me on a Saturday night and go look for a space station with a sexy android in it?"

I stop looking through the telescope and stand up straight, then I throw my arms around her.

“You’re much more sexier than any android I know," I say and snuggle up to her.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re ever so romantic. A real Don Juan.”

“I tell you what," I say.

"What?"

"Why don’t you put on something nice, and we’ll go out to dinner.”

Her eyes brighten. “I knew you’d see it my way. What should I wear? And don't say something nice.”

"Hm. Surprise me."

She blows me a kiss and disappears inside.

Above the cityscape, the moon is rising. A lonely satellite blinks across the sky.


In the ebb and flow of traffic, the city lights seem brighter than normal. After coming back to Earth, I began to see details that weren't there before. Sharp edges, moving trails, as if I'm seeing everything in maximum visual definition. It's somewhat unsettling yet exhilarating. The free flow of consciousness streaming in the river of sensations and perceptions.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to go to Greece?” Elena says. “The breeze off the sea. The white little houses along the rugged coast. We could rent a boat and sail out to sea. I've always wanted to swim in the Mediterranean.”

“We should look into it," I say.

"Really?"

"Sure. I have some vacation time coming up.”

My enthusiasm for Greece is not without its secondary motives. The Mediterranean climate is dry with clear skies, and I'd be able to see a different part of the star-map. I’ll need to buy a portable telescope though… and be discrete about it.


Greece_0001.jpg

In Greece, the nights flicker with burning torches along the shore. Whitewashed walls and rounded corners. We follow the narrow streets to a restaurant overlooking the cliffs- The Elysian Secret. Spectacular view with the evening stars glittering above the horizon.

We order some wine and light dishes. As we wait, Elena excuses herself to go to the washroom inside the restaurant.

I sit back and look out at the sea. Above the horizon, a few clouds are gathering. It'll probably rain overnight. Just my luck.

“It’s you!”

I'm mesmerized by the clouds in the horizon and barely register the voice.

“It’s you. I saw you.”

At last, I realize that the words are directed at me. I turn and see a young woman with bright red hair leaning on the table. She shoves a phone in front of my eyes, and I squint at the light. On the screen, I see a picture of myself floating in the sensory deprivation chamber of the station.

“Where did you get that?”

“I took it,” she says. “I was there too. In the station. I tried to escape, and that’s when I saw you. We were both there and others too. We need to talk.”

“Talk?” I say casting a glance back at the building.

“About what happened up there," she says slapping me on the shoulder. "About what’s going to happen next?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I'm with my wife on vacation."

"Puh-lease. After getting all twisted inside and out, you think you can just return to normal and become a square?"

I wave my hand. "I don't know who you are, and well, that’s all behind me now. Sorry, I have nothing more to say.”

She laughs, a girlish laugh that betrays her young age.

“You have no choice in the matter, buster. Wouldn't want your lovely wife to find out you have a thing for young girls, would you?."

"Are you nuts?"

"I'm bumping you my number. Don't forget to call me before you go home.”

She leaves just as Elena is on her way back to the table.

“Oh, I just love the Greek decor in there," Elena says, "classic without being tacky. Reminds me of an ancient temple.”

She sips her wine. Then her gaze falls on mine.

"Who was that girl you were talking to?”

“What girl? Oh, yes. Just a lost tourist.”

“For a moment I thought she was propositioning you.”

“I wish.”

“Oh Van, stop it! Don’t be rude. Didn't your mother teach you how to treat women? I want you to behave tonight, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.”

Elena’s face glows with the flickering light. The wine flushes her cheeks and accentuates her lovely green eyes. Her skin is smooth. At 28, she’s still young, but as she talks, I see the natural lines of her skin. In a flash, I see her face covered in wrinkles. Her eyes looking sunken, and her eyelashes, which once fluttered with energy, look brittle like dried petals.

The spell quickly passes.

“Maybe we could buy a house in this place," she says, "and we’ll use it for family vacations.”

“Don’t we need a family first?” I say.

“Exactly,” she replies. "Someone has to take care of us in our old age, right? We won't live forever."

She’s a dream girl. A jewel among women. Elegant and sophisticated. She's also right. We won't live forever, so we need someone to take care of us in our old age.

I remain silent, absentmindedly playing with my wine glass.

My heart sinks with bittersweet sadness. I can't bear to look her in the eyes. Guiltily, my gaze drifts towards the horizon, where a string of satellites crosses the starry heavens.


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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
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