Archelon Ranch by Garrett Cook

Author:Garrett Cook
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Fantasy, General, Visionary & Metaphysical, Science Fiction, Fiction
ISBN: 9780980593822
Publisher: LegumeMan Books
Published: 2009-09-30T07:00:00+00:00

VII

Bernard pushed himself harder than he had before. The deluge of bodies walking and the universe of possibilities made the Objectivity quiver with excitement, twitch in him and torment him. It screamed out vehemently for experiences, aching for new selves, but none of those selves at all was a self worth being. For example, there was the eyeless prostitute who had found some takers working the line. The Objectivity wanted to be another one of those takers in a much more meaningful and disgusting way. It wanted to not only savor the pleasure of the Harvester she was giving a blowjob to, but also the degradation of the disgusting eyeless cow giving the chitinous, insectoid member more respect than it looked like it deserved, and as the Harvester came after a lot of sucking and stroking the Objectivity insisted that Bernard had to be a sperm and that Bernard in fact was a sperm all along.

It moved onto processing the feelings of the comprachicos with their chain gangs of feral West Side street kids and then insisted that Bernard had to know what it was to be a feral West Side street kid inside out. Too many selves gathered in one place, chattering in their inane, grotesque, oppressed minds. Come on, it’s not so great being you. You’re not you. How could you be you? I am Bernard, I am Bernard. He had to focus on the image of his hands; make them clear. The Objectivity was blurring his connection with his body, spinning through elements of others like a slot machine. I am Bernard, I am Bernard, I am Bernard. Another hat. A strange influx of French. Je ne suis pas un chapeau, je suis un homme. Je suis Bernard. The Objectivity gave up, though it clearly did not wish to. The desire to remain Bernard was far too strong to beat as Chuck Calloway bought him an ice cream cone, which he ate with gusto and appreciation.

“Thanks,” said Bernard, “it’s awfully hot.”

The fan platform above them kicked on and soon afterward the mallgoing scum enjoyed a few minutes of relief from the extraordinary heat they lived under. It did not stop them from beating the children they had up for sale or from pleasuring Johns but their appreciation could be felt. The line began to move as one of the more monstrously fat and sweaty of the patrons of the line cooled down enough to take the three steps he needed to make it to the entrance. It would likely be only a few more hours until Bernard could get in, since there were just another couple of thousand mallgoers who needed to be checked for contraband, which included outside food and controversial reading materials. There wasn’t anything else that could be called too shameful for the Mall. Still, the search was needlessly thorough and often ended with a bribe or someone getting shot. Bernard was excited that the line seemed to be thinning slightly, but still could do little more than continuously argue and assert his selfhood to his very insistent condition.

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