kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"Hypo.0"

words

http://www.stwa.net/scrawl/viewtopic.php?t=21781

Bastard son, taking pills--has to slow down, slow down or he'll burn, crash and burn, and only stars get to do that; he's two degrees left of stardom. Micronova.

Dayjob, nightjob, keeping busy. Fingers tap a medley, but it's lifeless. He's far, further, farther--too much, and he's laying drugs on the drugs, striving for hanoi but babel's screaming in his ears. Can he hear, can he hear?

On his breaks he sups information, active always active, hemispheres clocking over to digest the constant data, digest and thread, rethread, retread the paths of knowledge.

Normal, anti-normal, it's all the same--so slow, so simple. He dreams in doppler, symbols fighting, ripping, streaming.

Has to slow down, or his flesh will strip, crease, cease to flex--living life in a fifth the time, no peers to keep it with; a half-man band, genetic freak, doctors say the drugs should work. The drugs should work, control the stars. It's chemical, all chemical, genetical, heretical.

He sees the stars, so bright, so sharp--they're loved, not understood; mortals yearn to feel the burn, but he knows the pain, just pain.

Off-days he shoves the pain, shovels pain, hypojects it straight, CNS, and slows.