by matt ronquillo
My friends wanted to go out dancing but I was like, “Flux you,” because I was tired from traveling, but they showed up at my apartment at the downtown high rise anyway. We all went out and it was OK at first, but then my reality broke down.
I was pulsing all alone in a nice dark corner of the floor when a sinister looking replica of myself bounced over and shook her hips at me on the outskirts of the purple lights and rambled, “An age will end tragically by an illusion spiral woven into reality’s path by psychotic engineers who say the pace of technology reflects physical existence and that shelter can be taken by running constantly within the eye of it. Everyone will spin out so fast by the notion that people considered old are becoming perpetually younger and therefore have to upgrade progressively faster for their youth, and the transportation of their consciousnesses into machines of their likenesses will be welcomed with open arms and the concept of time will be gone gone gone like the virtue of structuring it, thrown aside into pits of mass flesh and disappearing at the pace of pick-a-power and counting.”
Had to burst for the door and Dessica called at me where the hell I was going but I just dropped a big wheeze laugh and “Whatever” on her and then said, “Gonna take a nap in my fort!”
Dessica probably figured out by then I was going through really bad inter dimensional travel-lag, but I still got about a million calls from her and the other girls as I stumbled home. I didn’t answer them. I went to my apartment and made a fort out of the couch and strung blue lights above it because I needed peace and quiet for the rest of the night.
I decided to break out my projector and the accompanying white brain band you use to make your own movies with, and I brought them into the fort, figuring I’d think up a movie and project it on the pillow with my mind. If it was any good, I’d make a hard copy and try to sell it to the movie store down the street. Not that they ever buy my damn movies.
I might as well keep selling drugs inter dimensionally like I’m good at, because people think I’m harmless, but I’ve got the nerve to do crazy shit and this makes for a perfect dealer people in other dimensions want to go to when they want to get fluxed up. It’s illegal, but I’m such a worthless bitch that I might as well keep doing it because I suck at everything else, and that’s not self-deprecation, more like a recurring fact I keep rediscovering.
I put the white brain band over my head in the fort and it tickled my nerves and levitated like a halo over my black hair when it reacted to my brain waves. I don’t even remember passing out in the fort but when I woke up the next day, the projector was still on and the brain band was underneath my head and it was projecting an upside down image of my friend Dessica going down on me. “For flux sake!” I yelled and yanked the brain band out from underneath me and threw it against the fort’s pillow wall.
I don’t know why I was so surprised. Nothing I think about is appropriate. Yawn. I felt rejuvenated, so I busted out, sending cushions everywhere. It felt like a good day to go hard on everyones ass. I grabbed my multi-com and sent Dessica a message that I got home OK and she sent me one back that said, “Gwendolyn you were so fluxed up don’t run off like that again.” I’ve been getting messages like that from my friends for so long I figure it might be a good idea to just start calling myself Gwendolyn Fluxed and never even try to change.