Evolved Into Paradis

Evolved Into Paradise

He didn't care about his name, He couldn't even remember the whole thing, it was a messy jumble of letters and numbers that took up twenty pages. The whole society, everything to do with existence was like that for him and his people. Wasteland by bureaucracy. Everyone's name was a log of coded jumble. It's easier to be identified that way by computers, normal phonetic names were deemed inefficient once earth hit two hundred billion people, everyone had a code made of market history, so why not use that instead of having a hundred thousand Stan Smith's for a computer to sift through? They had deemed individuality unusable.

He looked at himself in the mirror, just now did he see how disgusting he was, a wraith of a figure, a pale, bald being bone thin and at least nine feet tall, he had wires sticking out from seemingly random points on his torso, only to re enter his body in six inches, his left eye was a camera, an all black orb designed to make sure that everything he saw could be collected, a vestigial security system from when "Humans" were Human. When a human could think, when humans had the freedom to do anything.

He looked around his apartment. All he saw was a sleeping pod, a sink, a cupboard full of bland paste in bland containers, a mirror, and no design anywhere. Everything a glossy white, everything a basic geometrical shape, and everything so mind splittingly bland that it might as well have not existed in the first place.

For the first time in ever, something broke inside of him. He had a thought, a free thought that he himself had thought, and his first thought was to scream. A scream of pure animalistic pain and illness permeated his ears, as this alien sound continued he felt a strange feeling in the depths of his ears, he had never felt it before and he loved it.

He had another beautiful thought, to punch the mirror. As soon as his fist hit the mirror, reflective shards shot in all directions, cutting his hand, creating the beloved feeling.

He grabbed a portion of the now broken mirror, a reflective blade, and thrust it into his camera eye, wiggling and thrashing his hand until the vestigial lens popped out. His whole head was overcome with that amazing feeling, so much so that it was impossible to stand.

As he lay on the ground, only then did he see the blood. He admired the captivating crimson liquid around him. He painted random lines and curves on the floor with it, it was art, the best thing he had ever seen.

He made sure to admire his work as his vision faded and he grew tired. He smiled as he ascended.