If you knew me, you would understand. I live in a bubble. Literally. I live in a plastic bubble. Air is fed to me through pumps and vacuums. What do I do all day? I live a teenager's dream. I watch TV 24-7. Life is good. I'm never hungry, because my IV provides me with an infinite amount of food. Yes, I live an entire life made of letters, and for some sick reason, it always ends in a V. Why of all things a V? Jesus Christ, you could have picked any letter to end my life, and you chose V.
Why did you choose V? Does it stand for something? Maybe vacuum; maybe one of my tubes will clog up, and I'll suffocate to death in my bubble. Perhaps it stands for venereal disease (I don't know how I might contract one in my position, but I almost want to find out.)Maybe it stands for variable; the whole facility could get bombed and I could be found under a pile of rubble, limp and lifeless after eating my own hands to survive. No.
V...
What could it mean?
Maybe I'll asphyxiate in a woman's...
Never mind.
In my masochistic world of letters and bubbles, death was the least I had to worry about. The future held a far worse fate than death, or even the letter V.
Why are we in a constant rate of change? Which one of Newton's Laws says that we have to change anything? And why does change always have to be bad? I want something good to happen to me, like being given my very own remote control, or getting the power to hold my breath for ten minutes... or taco Tuesday.
I was never really interested in solid food anyway. All the chewing and swallowing; It just seemed like a lot of work to me.
I just realized that I never introduced myself. I'm Ruben Doon;
Age: 45 (for real)
Weight: 241 pounds
Eye Color: Brown
Status: Isolated
So yeah, that's me. Drawn up in letters and numbers; charts and graphs; diagnostics and theories; blocks and bubbles; remediation and asphyxiation.