She'd have preferred the electric chair. She'd always been a fan of electricity. She recalled the first time her mother had given her a knife and set her down in front of the light socket. "Go on...Stick it in there good now honey" her mother had told her. And the jolt. Wow. Margaret knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life from that very first light socket. Electricity would be her calling. And boy did she answer that call.
As a young girl she would put on shows for the kids on the block by hopping in the...
She was a girl, he was a guy. She was beautiful and he praised the ground that she walked on. He couldn't stop thinking about her. The only way he would be able to fall asleep at night is with thoughts of her laying beside him whispering in his ear "everything will be alright".
She does not exist.
Instead he lays awake, not thinking of anyone. He thinks of death and of not-existing anymore. He cannot sleep because only in sleep does death occur. He doesn't want to die, but he has no reason to live.
Motivation to live has...
Never before had he witnessed such decadence. In every direction he sees strangers from a planet he has not lived on. They do not share his world. Humongous flashing screens paint the slopes of this urban valley with a grotesque LCD glow, electrifying the smoggy night and blotting out constellations he was accustomed to observing. A foreign land indeed.
They had told him about these men, and their women and children, of their social clubs and religious events and twenty-four-hours-a-day informational overload. He had watched the training videos explaining how to communicate in their language, how to mimic their gestures...