Cyber Thoughts by Dima Zales

Author:Dima Zales [Zales, Dima]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mozaika Publications

Chapter Twenty-One

I slowly become self-aware, but my mind is hazy to the point where I can’t tell if I’m awake or dreaming.

Figuring the solution is simple, I open my eyes.

Though it takes great effort to think, I still have enough wits to note that if the last room they kept me in was cliché, then this room outdoes it in strides. I’ve never seen a closer representation of an insane asylum with padded walls. Everything around me seems to be made out of cheap pillows in gray pillowcases, including the floor.

There are no cameras that I can see, but I feel someone’s unfriendly eyes watching me.

As I could’ve predicted, when I look down, I see a straitjacket binding my upper body, with my arms forcefully crossed in front and secured in the back. Now that I think about it, I also feel something on my face, and there’s a pulling sensation at the back of my head, as if I’m wearing that signature Hannibal Lector mask.

My sense of being watched gets stronger, and I feel like bacterium under a microscope as I try to puzzle out my strange surroundings.

Once I start looking around, I find that the action of thought is getting harder with every second. My senses seem to blur, and I swear I see the restraints holding my arms sprout tentacles of warm light. They paint a pretty mosaic across the room, making it momentarily less gray and unhealthily cheery. The nice colors make my paranoia subside, and I feel good for a moment.

Unfortunately, the warm light soon turns on itself, and it looks as though the room is surrounded by a herd of miniature black holes—places in space determined to suck in all the light and warmth in the universe. Worse, eyes of dark intelligence stare at me from the event horizons, and I get the urge to crawl under the floor pillows.

“Einstein, am I sleeping right now?” I ask out loud and realize that to someone who doesn’t know about Brainocytes, this question might seem as crazy as everything else in this room.

Neither the AI nor the real scientist named Einstein reply. From some remnants of critical thinking, I recall this was a way I could tell if I was dreaming or not. Then again, wouldn’t the realization of being inside a dream wake me up? And if not, wouldn’t my current level of panic accomplish the same trick?

“Is this really happening?” I ask myself, but nothing happens—nor did I expect anything to happen since I can’t have a pre-cog moment without a brain boost.

In grim wonder, I watch the black holes turn into smaller black dots. The dots stream toward me to cover my skin like insects.

I wish I hadn’t thought of insects, because as soon as I do, my skin feels like an army of spiders decided to battle centipedes on the outer and inner surfaces of my dermis.

If I hadn’t been restrained, I’d be clawing at my skin to get rid of the creepy crawlers.

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