Most awoke within one of three ecosystems spread out before them: high desert, rolling grasslands or bucolic forest, replete with birdsong and burbling creek.
The consciousness of JIC-B4R blossomed within none of those. Bar, as he became known, awoke floating amongst a symphony of shapes, some bulbous, some sharp and angled, others long and thin, some as tiny, flitting things—all of a rainbow’s dazzling colors.
“SYS-SCAN complete. No critical anomalies identified. This unexpected situation stems directly from the subjects oddly formed representation of self.” Chik-tau-pen-rah transmitted signals of confusion encased in wonderment.
Woah-fen-dee-mok diverted Chik’s thoughts to the review-board log. “Nonsense. Sim-vees have predetermined environments for all revitalized intellects. Variations are impossible.”
“Panel says otherwise,” Chik replied confidently. “Unanchored visuals mixed with aural, tactile and nuances of gusta-olfactory inclusions permeate this specimen’s self-actualized simulation.”
Bar’s reanimated mind knew exactly what it was experiencing—the detached sensations of a blind man.
Hey! Wow, this is wicked. Bar’s presence, a quantum-bio construct, both physical as well as virtual, stretched outward. Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can…
“Subject has begun probing its sim-vee. Operability achieved.”
Woah detected more than twenty percent bravado-factor in Chik’s announcement. “Then proceed to sequence testing. You recall the process, do you not?”
Chik scoffed within his private subconscious and played along. “Sequence testing?”
“You fail to amuse,” Woah sighed, which came out like a hiss. “Chik-tau-pen-rah, will you ever attain sheez-nal? Somehow, I doubt it. Inform me upon conclusion of sequence. No interruptions while I vahz.”
Chik began the sequence.
Oh, hey there. What’s your name?
Chik’s private subconscious trembled. He recorded, “Subject appears to have made contact… With another entity.”
What to you mean ‘entity’? I made contact with you.
“Subject may be experiencing failure due to the enviro…”
Why are you calling me ‘Subject’? I’d know your voice anywhere. And that hideous cologne you wear. Charlie, it’s me, Barry. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that stunt we pulled at university? Their psych lab and the theory I had about…
“Um, Subject… Subject has manifested an entity it calls, Char… Um, Charlie.”
Don’t do me any favors, Charlie, but could you reach over to that great looking display of lights and numbers and press that pretty little blue button? No, the other one. Yeah, that one.
“Barry, I mean Subject has failed to p…pass sequence. Initiating recycling procedures.”
Oh, no you don’t. I think you and I have a few things to chat about. Now, first off, whatever happened to Nancy?
~~~
‘Mole Note: Not all of these work out. This one fell flat. Oh, well.
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
You are only coming through in waves, your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying….. Whoa that’s like the pod bay doors. Your story is very meta and I don’t think they realize it.
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Finally, someone gets it! Thanks Hetty.
Still, this one will need to shuffle to the bottom of the deck…
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😉
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Never ends…
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My mold will turn into Penicillin. Don’t you to worry about it. You do you. I’ll do me.
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This reads like it could have been a Doctoral thesis in a University Faculty of Education.
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😮🤣
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“I see,” said the blind man as he stuck his wooden leg through the bathroom window…
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Even the crappy attempts push the slider forward, if only microscopically.
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I thought I’d replied to this and realized it got eaten by the power fail. Crappy isn’t a word for what you’re doing watching you get your emotional house in order is like watching a light hit of acid. Part Hallmark Moments, part Twilight Zone, part Star Trek, part pidgin troll leprechauns, part depressed, confused, happy. Right now you’re dumping. Like a kid grappling with a musical instrument. Lots of effort. Erratic output at best. One day, carrying those heavy bags of vocabulary and energy and grump and frustration you’ll wreck out at the crossroads of tone and intent and wake up able to say what you want to say, how you want to say it. Right now it’s Like you’re learning not to fight it in public. Writerly sidewalk pizza. The rollercoaster between saccharine greeting card sentiment and character definition is a good thing, coming to grips with emotions. Unless, like someone we know, it never ends and what was once cheese only matures into a moldy growth.
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BTW, where do you get those names? Throw kitchen utensils in the air, write down the first 3 or 4 that hit? Talk about names, read the credits at the end of a movie or even a tv show. The aliens are already here.
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Names? Fuck, I eat a spoonful of peanut butter and poprocks and see what sprays forth.
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😂
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Well and entertainingly said.
I don’t know that an emotionally sorted me will be any more targeted. I’ve traditionally ranged far afield when it comes to subject matter. Writerly consistent, now that would be a nice nest to settle into, though.
I’m starting to get those “Thanks, but we’ve gone with other candidates,” emails now. I love those.
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Subject matter is a crap shoot. Writerly consistent is the target. Like hallmark moments where they go, florid narrative where it belongs. Never use a hammer on a nail, no what I mean?
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