Impossible Possibilities

6. The Revolution

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A thousand little me’s.  No, ten-thousand. They were everywhere, I called them my children—the children of dreams.  I was like a bug.   I spawned many me’s.  They were everywhere the same person every time—the same little me. 

All of them had the same mind.  All of them had the same ideas, the same likes, the same dislikes—it was easy to say that there were no pea’s and lots of chocolate in my house.  It was overwhelming.  All we ever saw were the thousands of negatives in me, the greed, the anger, the stubbornness.  It was never anything good. 

Try living with yourself ten-thousand times and you’ll know what I mean, it was a disaster.  I should have never partaken in the cloning program.  I didn’t know they were going to see how fast they could go, spawn me ten-thousand times, say the research was done and dump the thousands of me’s on my front porch with a “good luck” note, what the fuck.

Those fucking researchers.  I couldn’t believe it.  It was a nightmare, ten-thousand me’s you know what that means?  Fifty grand a day just to maintain my self-consuming stature, it was absurd.  I was going under, all of me’s. And the worst part was I was unable to escape the nightmare that researching corporation thrust onto me.  I had no other choice.  So I grabbed a gun, pointed it at my head, and pulled the trigger.

Clouds. Square, there was no slow awaking—my eyes shot open, well as far as I could tell they were open, looking at the square fabric that covered them.  For once, I was glad to be awake; the dream wasn’t very… pleasant.  I tried to move, my hands were free from whatever binding they were in before and I was no longer hanging on some sort of death machine of unsavory breeding.

“I hit the two-hour off button, it only lasted forty-five minutes,” the leader spoke.  I had an off button and it was set to various intervals.  Wonderful, “They should fix that.  You’re right though.  Cut a finger off, nothing happened.  Must be some sort of disease that makes you sterile.”

I quickly felt my fingers, yep—one was missing.  I was down to three-and-a-half fingers on my left hand.  I looked in the direction of the voice, a gray zombie-like creature stood in front of me.  Wait.  How was that possible? I’m blind.  But there it was.  I looked closer at it. Its flesh clung to its body like gum clung to a pole.  The zombie smiled at me and continued to watch with its devilish brown eyes.  I tried to blink it away; I wanted my white squares back.  But my eyes refused to give me the clouds.  The beast turned and moved away, it went off into the shadows of my vision.  It was official, I’m going crazy.

“Follow me,” a voice spoke where the zombie was a moment ago.  I couldn’t see who it came from, but at the same time I couldn’t see my favorite white squares either.  I followed, he continued talking, “You being sterile makes you a lucky man,” for some reason I knew where I was going, I walked as normally as I could while following him and without anyone holding my hand to guide me through the maze.

I was no longer afraid of being blind.  I felt the walls and the corridors moving around me even if I couldn’t see them, “We don’t do anything without a point, without a choice, so therefore I’ll give you a choice.  You can become one of us, join the GaFlanza—or you can die,” his pace picked up, and so did mine, “I see you have taken the oath of blindness, that’s a start.  We can surly trust you with our secret locations for you’d never be able to tell our enemies where they are.”  Yes, oath of blindness, let’s go with that.

I continued to blink, I was determined to get my white clouds back, but to no avail—several months without seeing the world around me has got me going crazy.  Color rushed over the darkness.  I turned to my thoughts to try and ignore it.  I was running down a rainbow, a lush forest was below me.  A white flash.  I looked down, fire—death, months passed and the forest below me had burned down, how had it changed?  It was so peaceful before, now it was a wasteland.