Human Memory Art Logs: Rusty Gas Clouds of Zimpydoo
Hovering atop a pleasant stream of air within a cozy, well-furnished cavern, a rust-colored gas cloud eeeks orange-brown puffs.
A therapist, also a rust-colored gas cloud, floats nearby on their own air stream.
“In my Dream, I’m (eeek) following my Path.” The client cloud eeeks,
“That sounds (eeek) fine.” The analyzing cloud eeeks back.
“But the Path in my Dream (eeek) leads over a cliff.” The puff billows.
The critical vapor looks serious and responds, “How can that (eeek) help you?”
The fitful fog pleads, “I know that I know (eeek) another Path is possible, but…I don’t know if I know (eeek) how to change.”
The counselor condenses, considers their patient, and asks, “Have you ever tried not Dreaming of a (eeek) cliff?”
The session is interrupted when they collectively detect incoming human memory art.
They hear… Sorry You’re Sick by Ted Hawkins
Their minds see…
Two humans chatting at a cafe table on a stage in front of an audience.
“Someone bombed the hospital?”
“Yeah…it’s more common than you’d think.”
“That’s terrible! Who’s responsible?”
“I was too young to recognize the company logo.”
“Surely it must’ve been a mistake!”
“No mistake. Official computer models predict the birth of disruptive elements and sanitize targets when their variables cross a tolerance threshold, changing their designation from CU to BGE.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve read BGE has a target value twenty times greater than CU, so the cost of a strike is Officially justified.”
“Are you upset about what happened to you?”
“The bombs were dropped by automated drones.”
“So what?”
“So my parents were killed by an algorithm.”
“BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
An expensive shoe thrown by an excited audience member bounces off the forehead of the orphaned speaker.
The performer, after they recover, admires the ammunition.
Holding up the fine footwear, they declare, “This shoe’s a real knockout!”
The audience cheers.
The gas beings disengage their minds from the memory waves and wiggle at one another.
“I’ll maintain.” Eeeks the convalescent.
The doctor mist takes their final notes of the session.
An Aesthetic Acquisition Drone gathering data from orbit notes the notes.
- Human Memory Art, 2121 C.E.
- Aesthetic Data Gathering Patrol, 12,420,069 C.E
Your Chapter One.One
It is 12,420,076 C.E., and you are monitored by an Automated System.
It Logs:
You, standing in front of a closed window.
You, selecting an alternate setting.
Carbon, becoming transparent.
You, seeing nothing.
A buzzer vibrates within your brain.
Your investments trend down.
Implants flood your body with chemicals inducing fear.
You return your window to its default opacity.
You take an Eterna Sensitivity Enhancement Pill.
You move to your Life Corp Comfort Chair and Weta Dreams Entertainment Device.
Your body falls backwards and vanishes into the Chair’s pillowy mass of fathomless snuggles.
Waves sync neurons with Entertainment.
You perceive yourself in a lush forest.
The simulated lavender smell of your Living Environment is replaced by faux moss, wood, stone, and mud.
Wind rustles a canopy, filtering dancing dappled patches of warm purple sunlight onto where your head virtually exists.
Birch grows next to kapok, mangrove, and laurel.
Around you, the undergrowth is thick.
Bright blue orchids and purple mountain saxifrage dominate.
Ruby-throated hummingbirds, great horned owls, Barbary lions, white-tailed deer, Javan tigers, duck-billed platypuses, ring-tailed lemurs, fennec foxes, and birds of paradise meander about.
Nothing eats anything.
The cuteness of everything is maximized, with some features, such as eyes, greatly exaggerated.
Fully immersed, you desire a hug from a large-eyed ring-tailed lemur.
Simultaneously, an unexplained urge to see purple and blue Bengal tigers shimmers through your limbic system.
Purple and blue Bengal tigers walk into view as the cutest ring-tailed lemur of the nearest conspiracy approaches your simulated body and hugs your legs.
Your implants note the pressure of the lemur’s arms wrapped around your limbs and release chemicals associated with receiving a hug.
Lemur hug achieved, you want food in your mouth.
You thank God for your impulse and implants.
The Entertainment Device’s waves detach from your mind.
The mimicry of lavender returns to your olfactory receptors.
The dark gray composite carbon Life Corp Floor, ceilings, and walls of your Life Corp Living Environment are restored to you.
You slither down your Comfort Chair, and think your Floor should bring you to your Chewing Chamber.
The Floor responds by moving gently in the right direction.
Twinkling lights embedded in the molding grow brighter as you pass, but never so focused as to sharpen your shadow.
Throughout the Living Environment, primary-colored shapes are pasted in prominent locations.
When you enter your Chewing Chamber, you see a SoftApplet Advertisement projected over your purple and blue retro 23rd-century art deco-pentagonist Gemini Ninety-Niner-Zimpydoo fusion Blender.
The Advertisement contains a timer.
It currently reads 9 minutes 10 seconds.
A buzzer rattles your brain.
Your investments trend down.
The chemicals tickling your body post-lemur hug are replaced with chemicals of fear and dread.
Your Floor increases its speed as you pray to God to see you through this hardship.
Your body is delivered to the anachronous Blender moments later.
The admonitory Advertisement auto-detects your preferences.
You confirm the auto-selected upgrade, and spend a monthly credit to purchase a new device.
The SoftApplet logo is replaced by a Cute Smile, which makes a Happy Noise before disappearing.
A bell chimes in your brain; your investments trend up.
Fear is supplanted by chemicals associated with upgraded appliances and successful investments.
But in your heart you know you’re experiencing mitigated pleasure.
You upbraid yourself for missing out on a Maximum Satisfaction Achievement and a Bonus Upgrade by failing to purchase before the Warning Advertisement appeared.
You thank God for their assistance, then make a mental inventory of the oldest items in your Living Environment.
As soon as you finish consuming food you’ll upgrade your month-old Weta Dreams Entertainment Device.
“You can never have enough, ever.” You think to yourself.
You take an Eterna Sensitivity Enhancement Pill.
The Automated System logs your activities.
Modern Issue 