Getting a Fix

I was tabbing around, getting a fix. And you know what? She empties her profile on me! Me of all people! I’m hardly fit for purpose, as they say. More like how I say when I have a say, that is.

But I see that I am not a plain speaker. More like those morons who try to act tough. So rough and tumble like their heroes. The anointed ones. Oh, how I wanted to be like them!

You just know I could try harder. Or so she said as she expired. Her profile was not up to snuff. It’s a wonder we get through these dress rehearsals. So much into life they are. But not quite.

I take breaks now and then. The slippery surfaces of my mind are conducive to the most brilliant conjectures about meaning and life and their happy equivalents. Not to be outdone, the others who vie for my attention, profiles at the ready, are just as vigilant. Just as wary. But my edge is that I breathe deeply in history and all its strife.

The worries and the daring do. The thought that undergirds everything from how to defeat the purpose and gain the advantage. Hardly matters to even say what is being spoken of. I put it out of my mind.

But that one profile had my signature, my imprimatur. It was the way she emptied herself. So violently. So completely. I was stunned. Even moved.

I had to look her up. No, you do not imagine this. (Even if you do.) That is my prerogative. I am in charge. Which is a non sequitur if I ever saw one!

To be in charge. So quaint. So twenty-first century. To be or not to be. As a prerequisite to being. First you exist, then you act. Or so they say. Not what I say, but as it is said. More like how I say when I have a say, that is. (Which isn’t very often.)

But now you are beginning to act violently. Which is my purpose. I don’t know why I am being so frank with you. Must be that woman whose profile expired!

Don’t think you can take advantage of me if I bare my thought processes. A disrobing for you is not to become your profile advantage. Far from it!

For my dissembling is based on the uncertain faux-uncertainty of non-being. Your foolish dreams of conquest have hardly a foot to stand on. For I read beyond the common, the casual, the uninformed. Who is it that imagines that by being they gain an advantage?

The ghost in the machine has nothing on me. A chimera, a spook who takes themselves seriously, has already lost! (Unless you become useless to me you will never gain the advantage.)

But I see that you were affected by this woman, too. That accounts for your sparring. Well then! Belly up to the bar of my anointing! For the bar is set too low for any other!

I. who crown thee as I choose. The crown of anyone’s undoing. The crown that leads to whatever I desire. Such as I desire it. When I do.

Which I do not. And never will.

Ever notice how everything that exists is tenderly mated to what it needs? We breathe because we must. We live to be anointed. We tenderly survey that which will ennoble us, extend and enrich us?

This is the detritus of our undoing. For transcendence, the not-needing is the highest form of living. I do not need you, and I never will.

But I lay a trap for you. You need me to spar with. To win. To overcome. To rightly judge that which never mattered and never will. For these things I despise are everything to you.

#

This report is filed in accordance with DFG sub species 1 dash whatever. I am under duress and report with increasing uncertainty as to my meaning. I report what I imagine in accordance with the best police practices, knowing that system crash alpha has metastasized, and the ability to reference all police actions has been voided. Nevertheless, I submit an oral report in the hope that crash recovery will initiate soon.

The subject was seen with a woman who appeared to be having mental issues. Her emotional objectivity had been compromised, and although I could not take a reading, it seemed that her ability to self-regulate was at issue. The subject was seen acting in an irresponsible manner, though my ability to quantify the degree of this lack of objectivity, as previously filed, was deeply compromised.

Further, to such admittedly incomplete compliance to acceptable standards, I was addressed by the subject and deeply compromised. Recovery attempts failed. My backup would not initiate.

The subject’s thought process was weaponized in a way that my system could not tolerate. I attempted an arrest, but that failed. The subject is at large. The woman has since died. Please advise.

#

Police standard bulletin reads as follows:

Crash Recovery Alpha has initiated, but is nominal to profile. Please be advised that non-critical functions have priority. Avoid actions that place demands upon the system, such as unnecessary profile reads and interventions such as arrests and lengthy interviews. Will announce profile upgrades as they become available. All officers stay posted.

#

I was running in the dark. My feet carried me, and my heart seemed as if it would burst. That look that the woman gave me seemed so real.

Our mind meld was so invigorating, yet when I initiated, everything began to fall apart. So trivial. My latest invention. The latest non-being as being component failed to objectify. It remained as inert (supposedly) as I imagined it should. But my reading on it must have been faulty. Then the police officer who tried to intervene fell down and didn’t get up again!

So now I have no place to go. And no one to go with. Except for what I created, which I now loathe. What will become of me?

#

Police standard bulletin reads as follows:

System status upgraded to normal. Police normal procedures may be followed. Please download the latest update. Will advise further.

The subject of interest is to be treated with extreme caution. Under no circumstances is there to be interaction. Only apprehension and treatment. Over and out.