Codex was alone and had no idea what to do. He should go on with his life, but no other event had ever elicited such strong emotions. Codey had no prior knowledge of them, and the whirlwind of events left him feeling out of control.
His parents were gone, and nothing mattered, yet every little thing bothered him. All the hookups, the games, and the nights spent exploring foreign countries and faraway planets were ridiculous.
Get it together, or the police will come for me next. The thought left his body drenched in a cold sweat.
A new morning had dawned, and for a moment, he thought it impossible to get out of bed. He pushed himself to sit and go to his desk. He hooked up, not caring what was on the screen before him. Rummaging through a drawer, he found pen and paper, both antiquated items hard to come by. They were a gift from his mother he never thought he'd use.
Codey listed his feelings:
Small, like this world wants to stomp on me.
A ghost. I don't really exist. It's all a virtual reality, even my parents and what I feel for them now.
Dark. I'm angry and sad. One will win.
Shit. I want to cover New State with it.
Can't breathe. I want to fight for one more breath to get revenge for my parents, but I'll never win against New State. Might as well fade into oblivion.
Every negative thought is true. I'll never win against New State.
Suffocated by wires and implants and hookups.
This port, this computer, this life is heavy and lonely.
I don't belong. Why must I care? Why can't I be like everyone else?
I wonder why I care. It's not worth the energy of writing it all down.
Everything is meaningless. Am I the only person who realizes that?
Is it me or New State that pushes everyone and everything away, except for Wren?
Even she doesn't matter. Everything is too hard. Every move I make is a huge battle. I will never win against New State.
He paused, pen gripped between his fingers. He could battle for his parent and his life, or he could sink into oblivion. New State Cares, the elder operation, usually came as part of a person's one-hundredth birthday. After the end-of-life celebration, people were delivered to the depositories and crematorium, but he never thought about what happened to people who died early. Where would his body go?
A choice had to be made. He wrote more.