They don't let me sleep with their children's cries under my windows. In the song, I hear her thin female voice: "Help me ...". On the screen, unsanitary conditions and her adult body. The dog people, cat people are around. I'm sorry. I need to be proud on the right and strong on the left side in my mind. My goal is the death of the enemies. I'm Russian. This is my idea. Everything I see here is mine. The enemy is closer than I want and so far away. I realize now - this is a matrix. Social matrix. I'm an engineer. I want money, and more than that, I want my dream. If I die, it's my own fault. But, I hope my enemy dies first. Billions of people and only hundreds of faces at all. I understand, this is a collective behavioral matrix. I'll take it for myself now. I'll be afraid nothing. This can move our topic.
5, 5, 35 and 70. These are the statistics of space-timing. And to the politics. But if it gets worse, then I'm done. My eyes are full of grief, despair and envy. My heart tightens, my hands are dropping. But my soul - it resists. I'll take it, I will steal this social matrix. This wonderful language of color, shadow and light, and extraordinary sounds and a deathly silent. I'm Russian and I'm better than owner of matrix. I'll put him on his knees. It will be easy. That was the plan at first. When I first woke up in tears. I see a vague dream: my childhood, toys and mirrors, when I first recognized myself in it.
Suddenly, that clicks and the channel is switched. I have a headache. Russian children stand at the door with machine guns. I'm terrified and in a cold sweat... I'm waking up. Here's a dawn. Dog's bark. There is the rumble of the bus from which my windows are buzzing and the gray walls, transparent green windows. The sun casts a shadow on the bedspreads. I'm alone here with the pink sheet on the blue metal bed. Nobody came to kill me. What should I do? Gotta rewind the tape further. And everything works out for me.
The heavy metal door. I'm going into his dungeon. He is tied to a chair. I shout: "When will you stop watching me and biting me? He is silent. His naked body is trembling. He touched the most intimate - the soul. I hear the inner voice, he says: "That's the sound of inevitability Mr. Anderson". My fists are clenched. He's coward! Like his friends. I was scared. But now "I'm fine". I'm switching the tape back again: there's a big city, - Downtown. The frame flickers. It looks like I'm in the frame. I'm coming closer and recognize myself. I need help. I'm scary again. I'm praying. The crowd is tearing me apart. I shout: "Help me!". I pause the dream or the matrix.
There is me again. I'm surrounded by people. Here's howl. It is a social rebellion, controlled chaos. I manage them. Like a car at speed. He follows me and spoils my space. My social matrix. This is a big mistake to steal these songs, words, photos. I will steal this matrix. This super-intelligence is mine. I ignore all those who resist. I'll bring them down even harder until they will screaming. I believe in the Lord God Jesus Christ. He will save me. Whoever watches me is jealous and afraid of me. He knows that I'm better than him. He won't be able to save himself. I stole it. I already stole his matrix. Now it is mine.
I'm back in the dungeon. I'm not afraid of instincts. I'm surrounded by people again. I have nothing to fear. Finally, I won't be alone, I'll delighted. He's condemned, but growls at me. And I do not like it. I'm nervous. And my fists are clenching. I rewind the tape again. I look at small myself. I play with toys. The shadow is following me. I break cubes. I look at myself in the mirror, crying. My own shadow terrifies me. The light hits my eyes.
The ringing in the ears and bright white light. I'm ahead again. I know what I'm doing and why. I already convinced him. He doesn't resist. With the last drop of his blood... I'm packing in. I'm an astronaut. I'm flying to Mars. There in my dreams I see my own orange eyes.
I'm remembering Daniel Keyes, which is gave to the girl. Ray Bradbury, Brodsky, Pushkin and Dostoevsky which I read myself. I'm so far away now. I'm alone in my capsule in its purple anti-radiation walls. Mother-of-pearl bed with a military-colored back. These are the black sheets and white curtains on plastic windows. Blue light so that my eyes don't hurt. Walking up and back on the capsule, I quote Saint Simon’s "Catechism of the Industrialists". I'm no longer alone. Nobody can get me.
by Artem Miachin
29 December 2022
Artem.Miachin 